Teh Sexy Monkey Queen
- Jul 24, 2004
- The World of Icelandia.
The Helpless Victim
Based on a true story
Disclaimer: Names of people and places (not cities) have been changed. This story is based on a true story on a murder that happened back in 1964. Not all of this is of my own work. Some events have been added, as from where I have based this on, did not mention what I have written myself into the story.
“…For a vivid picture of the general public’s indifference to crime in their midst.”
Queens, New York. 1964
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK, CLICK. CLICK.
Cameras went off everywhere as newspaper interviewers kept yelling out questions at Assistant Chief Inspector, Brian Talbot.
“Why didn’t anyone call?”
“Who did this to her?”
“Have you caught the killer?”
“Why did this take so long?”
“Why are you saying this now?”
Finally, the Chief Inspector interrupted them, when he told them, “People, people, please relax. I’ll answer any questions, but first, I’ll explain what happened. When we put the pieces of this murder puzzle together, we found out that the killer had three chances to kill the woman, all within a 35-minute time period. After his first attack on her, he had returned twice later, and then finished her off. If only we had been called in time, that poor young girl would still be alive today.”
Two weeks earlier-Kingsley’s Bar
Hollis, New York.
There he sat, right there in front of the bar tender. Ben was always the one to stick around late and always asked for more than he could handle.
“One more round, Allen. Please?”
“No. I’m sorry, Ben, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to please leave.”
Ben kept nagging and nagging for more drinks, but kept getting the same answer, and was denied from drinking more. Though Ben would not get anymore drinks, he still wouldn’t leave. So then came in the manager of the bar, Abigail Cain.
“What’s going on here?” Abigail asked, as she walked up to the bar stools.
“Ms. Cain, this gentleman will not leave, and he has been cut from anymore drinks.” Allen responded to her.
Abigail told Ben, “Sir, I’m going to please ask you to leave. Do not let us call the police.”
“Bah! I’m just a simple man asking for some more drinks. What the hell is wrong with that? Stupid people. You’ll pay…”
With that, Ben finally got up, and left the bar. Before he walked out, Ben looked back and gave Abigail a crazy look, and murmured some words.
“I just don’t get how a 28-year old pretty woman like you can run and stand a place like this, Abby.” Allen said to her.
“I told you before, Allen,” she began to explain, “I can take care of myself.”
“Whatever you say, boss. Whatever you say.”
Abigail stayed late working on papers at the bar. She didn’t leave to go to her home until around three in the morning. She got into her red Fiat and drove on out. She drove down on to the tree-lined area of Austen Street in Kew Gardens. She had parked her car in a lot across the Kew Gardens Long Island Railroad Station, which faced Mowbray Place.
Abigail parked her car in the same place, day after day. She had been doing so since she moved there from Connecticut a year before. After she turned off the lights on her car, she started to walk the 100 feet it takes her from her car to the entrance of the apartment home she lived in at 82-70 Austin Street. The apartment is a Tudor a building, having stores on the first floor, and the apartments on the second floor. The entrance to the apartments lay in the back of the building, since the front entrance is for the stores.
As Abigail walked towards the back entrance, she had noticed a man at the far end of the lot. He was near an apartment house, at 82-40 Austen Street. She then stopped walking. Now, being scared, she quickly went up Austen Street towards Lefferts Boulevard. At Lefferts Boulevard was a special call box, which is connected to the 102nd Police Precinct. They were located not far away in Richmond Hill.
She walked as fast as she could. She only made it to a streetlight that was in front of a bookstore, before the man had grabbed her. The lights were out at 82-67 Austen Street, a 10-story apartment building that faced the bookstore. The windows of the building were open, and voiced could clearly be heard.
“OH MY GOD! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME! THIS MAN JUST STABBED ME! SOMEONE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELP ME!” Abigail screamed for help.
On one of the upper windows, a man screamed out, “Leave the girl alone! Go away!”. And with that, the man went back inside, and did nothing else. The attacker looked up, and just walked away after that. He walked to a white Sedan that was parked nearby, and drove away. Abigail now was struggling to her feet.
The lights were still out, and the attacker had returned. Abigail was trying to get around the building around the parking lot, trying to get to her apartment. She then got stabbed for a second time.
“SOMEONE PLESE HELP! I’M DYING!” She kept screaming at the top of her lungs. “I’M DYING!”
Now more windows were opened this time around, and the lights came on. Once again, the attacker got into his car and drove away for a second time. Abigail staggered to her feet. Suddenly, a city bus, the Q-10, passed by. It was the Lefferts Boulevard line which was heading to the Kennedy International Airport. It was now 3:35 in the morning.
Again, the attacker had returned. Abigail had made it to the back of the building by crawling there. In the back of the building were freshly painted doors, where Abigail had gone for safety. The attacker had checked the first door, but nothing. When he looked in the second door, at 82-62 Austen Street, the attacker had found Abigail on the floor. She was on the foot of the stairs. Again, he stabbed her. But this time, it was the last time he would do it. Abigail died from the third stab.
By 3:50 am was when the police had first received a call about the situation. A neighbor of Abigail had called the police. The police arrived two minutes after they received the call. The neighbor who placed the call was a 70-year-old woman was on the street with another woman. Not one other person came forward for anything.
A man then came and said that he had called the police sometime after much thought. He called a friend of his in Nassau County to get some advice on what to do. He then went across to the other building, and said he had the old woman make the call.
When he explained why he did it, he said, “I didn’t want to be a part of this. I didn’t want to be involved.”
Six days had passed, and the police had found and arrested the killer of Abigail Cain. It was Robert Decastro, a 29-year-old man who worked as a business machine operator. He was charged with Homicide. Robert was a married man, had two kids, and was the owner of the home on 133-19 Sutter Avenue in South Ozone Park, Queens. He had no previous arrest record. By the following Wednesday, the court had sentenced Robert to Kings County Hospital for psychiatric observation.
When the police had interrogated Robert, he admitted that he had murdered many other women. At the time, a housewife had mentioned that she believed it to be a ‘lovers-quarrel’, and didn’t want to bother with it. Her husband and herself had said that they were afraid of what to do, and when asked why they simply didn’t call the police, they answered, “I don’t know.” Another man said when asked the same question, “I was tired. So I just went back to bed to sleep.”
4:25 am was when the ambulance had come by to take the body of Abigail Cain. Then it drove off to its destination.
A Police Officer was quotes saying, “Then…that’s when the people actually came out.”