Dr. Abe Allerton Character Analysis

Hopefully, it happened through a police investigation that led to an arrest that resulted in a successful trial by jury and a murder conviction. However, the justice system was imperfect. Many crimes remained unsolved, especially violence against Natives. Plus, Trevor’s death was so strange, magic might have been involved. That was a potential death blow against justice. Magic, as energy from another realm, corrupted and altered the fabric of reality. The defense for Abe Allerton could argue that any trace of magic at the crime scene negated his chance for a fair trial, since there was no way to trust the evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. Nine times out of ten, that argument worked for people with million-dollar lawyers. Strangely, it rarely worked for anyone else.

The lawn was speckled by white polka-dots, the heads of round mushrooms. Didn’t mushrooms usually sprout in moist environments? Exactly how much water did Dr. Allerton waste on his grass every day?

“Here,” Lenore said, handing Ellie a velvet-wrapped parcel. “He wanted you to have this.”

Gingerly, Ellie unwrapped Trevor’s Swiss Army knife. “He used to carry this during hikes,” she said. “Every hike. Even little ones in Grandma’s yard. Just in case.” She held it carefully. “I’ll always carry it, too.”

“That’s Trevor,” Lenore said. “Prepared for just about anything. It didn’t help him in the end.”

“The two made off with four hundred dollars, Marlboros, and ten bags of dried meat. I remember a news reporter saying, ‘They killed a man for just four hundred dollars.’ And I thought that the word ‘just’ was completely unnecessary. No amount of money would make the crime less heinous. I don’t care if there was four billion dollars in that register, Ellie.”

Despite all of the warnings Ellie had heard her whole life, the fact remained: waking up a human ghost was like getting struck by lightning. Extremely unlikely but dangerous enough that precautions had to be respected. When it came to attracting electricity during a thunderstorm, there were ways to improve the odds. Fly an aluminum kite. Stand under a tall tree. Wave a metal pole at the tumultuous clouds. Likewise, if somebody wanted to wake up a ghost, they could repeat the deceased’s name, disturb their burial ground, or otherwise meddle with the dead person’s body, possessions, home, or family.

“Nathaniel Grace learned a lesson from the fire. He made friends with other Pilgrims by hurting the people who frightened them more than he did.”

Page five continued, with a picture of a boxy building, “Nathaniel Grace made a hospital with the money he earned. He saved many lives.”

[...]

The final page displayed an anatomically accurate drawing of a leech. It belonged in a biology textbook, not a historical biography. Brett concluded: “Nathaniel Grace is a great American because he saved the lives of many people like presidents and war heroes. Without him, the country would not be the same and there would be no Willowbee. He founded the town to be a good home.”

“Be patient. Have faith.” Vivian put her arms around Lenore and Ellie and pulled them into a hug.

“Faith in what?” Lenore asked, and she sounded genuinely curious and a little bit spiteful. “Justice?”

“Family,” Vivian said. “It’s all we’ve ever had.”

“He’s just one man.” Trevor leaned forward, rooted to the grave. “There are millions more who will continue to treat our family and land like garbage. Think of them like pests.”

“Pests...”

“Termites in your house. Locusts in your field. It doesn’t make any difference if you crush just one insect. The swarm will devour your home.”

Ellie always reasoned that Six-Great lived in a more violent era, one that transformed pacifists into warriors. Six-Great didn’t fight because she enjoyed it; she had to protect her family and friends from genocide.

There were still people to protect. That, Ellie now realized, would never change.

“Everything I do tonight will be for him. For justice.” The exorcist corpse’s head flopped to one side, as if trying to study Ellie with its cloudy eyes. “He loved you,” the emissary said. “He loved all his family.”

“I love Trevor,” she said. “Always will.”

“Someday, you’ll be reunited,” the emissary promised. “If you want that day to come sooner rather than later, interfere with my vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” she wondered. “Didn’t you say ‘justice’ a moment ago?”

“In this case, they’re the same.”

“I am a neutral force,” Dr. Allerton said. “My healing balances my harm. Ellie, I tried to help you and your family. Did you know that I collected scholarship money for Trevor’s child? Well? Enough to pay for college! For grad school! You just wouldn’t let it go. Everything is a mess now.”

“Shut it,” Ellie said. “All the scholarships in the world can’t be a father to Gregory.”

How long would it take for the earth to heal? When would the sap on the metal-scarred tree harden into amber? It seemed odd that an act so violent and cruel could leave gemstones in its wake.

Hopefully, it happened through a police investigation that led to an arrest that resulted in a successful trial by jury and a murder conviction. However, the justice system was imperfect. Many crimes remained unsolved, especially violence against Natives. Plus, Trevor’s death was so strange, magic might have been involved. That was a potential death blow against justice. Magic, as energy from another realm, corrupted and altered the fabric of reality. The defense for Abe Allerton could argue that any trace of magic at the crime scene negated his chance for a fair trial, since there was no way to trust the evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. Nine times out of ten, that argument worked for people with million-dollar lawyers. Strangely, it rarely worked for anyone else.

The lawn was speckled by white polka-dots, the heads of round mushrooms. Didn’t mushrooms usually sprout in moist environments? Exactly how much water did Dr. Allerton waste on his grass every day?

“Here,” Lenore said, handing Ellie a velvet-wrapped parcel. “He wanted you to have this.”

Gingerly, Ellie unwrapped Trevor’s Swiss Army knife. “He used to carry this during hikes,” she said. “Every hike. Even little ones in Grandma’s yard. Just in case.” She held it carefully. “I’ll always carry it, too.”

“That’s Trevor,” Lenore said. “Prepared for just about anything. It didn’t help him in the end.”

“The two made off with four hundred dollars, Marlboros, and ten bags of dried meat. I remember a news reporter saying, ‘They killed a man for just four hundred dollars.’ And I thought that the word ‘just’ was completely unnecessary. No amount of money would make the crime less heinous. I don’t care if there was four billion dollars in that register, Ellie.”

Despite all of the warnings Ellie had heard her whole life, the fact remained: waking up a human ghost was like getting struck by lightning. Extremely unlikely but dangerous enough that precautions had to be respected. When it came to attracting electricity during a thunderstorm, there were ways to improve the odds. Fly an aluminum kite. Stand under a tall tree. Wave a metal pole at the tumultuous clouds. Likewise, if somebody wanted to wake up a ghost, they could repeat the deceased’s name, disturb their burial ground, or otherwise meddle with the dead person’s body, possessions, home, or family.

“Nathaniel Grace learned a lesson from the fire. He made friends with other Pilgrims by hurting the people who frightened them more than he did.”

Page five continued, with a picture of a boxy building, “Nathaniel Grace made a hospital with the money he earned. He saved many lives.”

[...]

The final page displayed an anatomically accurate drawing of a leech. It belonged in a biology textbook, not a historical biography. Brett concluded: “Nathaniel Grace is a great American because he saved the lives of many people like presidents and war heroes. Without him, the country would not be the same and there would be no Willowbee. He founded the town to be a good home.”

“Be patient. Have faith.” Vivian put her arms around Lenore and Ellie and pulled them into a hug.

“Faith in what?” Lenore asked, and she sounded genuinely curious and a little bit spiteful. “Justice?”

“Family,” Vivian said. “It’s all we’ve ever had.”

“He’s just one man.” Trevor leaned forward, rooted to the grave. “There are millions more who will continue to treat our family and land like garbage. Think of them like pests.”

“Pests...”

“Termites in your house. Locusts in your field. It doesn’t make any difference if you crush just one insect. The swarm will devour your home.”

Ellie always reasoned that Six-Great lived in a more violent era, one that transformed pacifists into warriors. Six-Great didn’t fight because she enjoyed it; she had to protect her family and friends from genocide.

There were still people to protect. That, Ellie now realized, would never change.

“Everything I do tonight will be for him. For justice.” The exorcist corpse’s head flopped to one side, as if trying to study Ellie with its cloudy eyes. “He loved you,” the emissary said. “He loved all his family.”

“I love Trevor,” she said. “Always will.”

“Someday, you’ll be reunited,” the emissary promised. “If you want that day to come sooner rather than later, interfere with my vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” she wondered. “Didn’t you say ‘justice’ a moment ago?”

“In this case, they’re the same.”

“I am a neutral force,” Dr. Allerton said. “My healing balances my harm. Ellie, I tried to help you and your family. Did you know that I collected scholarship money for Trevor’s child? Well? Enough to pay for college! For grad school! You just wouldn’t let it go. Everything is a mess now.”

“Shut it,” Ellie said. “All the scholarships in the world can’t be a father to Gregory.”

How long would it take for the earth to heal? When would the sap on the metal-scarred tree harden into amber? It seemed odd that an act so violent and cruel could leave gemstones in its wake.