Chapter 11
The Hunter
T wo days later and the atmosphere in the classroom is electric, a buzzing energy that crackles through the air. I stand at the front, my gaze sweeping over the students who are all on edge with anticipation, eager to dive into the intense role-playing exercise that awaits them.
I sense Ruby’s apprehension even before I lock eyes with her. She’s sitting a bit stiffly, her hands fidgeting in her lap, betraying the calm exterior she tries to project.
“Today,” I announce, my voice steady and commanding, “we’ll explore the psychology of criminal behavior through role-play. Each of you will be assigned a character, and it’s your job to embody their motivations, fears, and justifications. The detective will aim to extract a confession, while the criminal will evade, manipulate, or justify their actions.”
My eyes lock onto Ruby’s, her emerald orbs widening with sudden comprehension as I distribute the character assignments.
Most of the class completes theirs before lunch, leaving me with a sense of mediocrity. Their performances are subpar at best, and if I were to grade them, they would be lucky to scrape by with an F.
When I look back at Ruby, I see a fire in her eyes. She is determined to exc el, no matter what it takes. That makes my curiosity grow, and even though I’m tempted to cancel lunch to get to it, I force myself to remain patient.
When it’s Ruby’s turn and I call her name, I see her jaw clench, but she quickly masks her discomfort with a determined nod. “Mrs. Simmons, you’ll be playing the role of the criminal,” I say, deliberately emphasizing her character. “Miss Latrell will be your detective. Let’s see how well you can justify your actions.”
Ruby stands slowly, her posture rigid. Miss Latrell glances nervously at her partner, her own character—a timid detective—clearly weighing the challenge ahead. Tension builds as they set up in front of the class, the other students leaning forward in their seats, eager for the performance.
Miss Latrell clears her throat, her voice shaky. “Um, alright. Let’s get started.”
Ruby raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, detective.”
Miss Latrell’s eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers, her resolve hardening. “Okay, let’s start with the basics. Did you commit these crimes?”
Ruby leans against the desk, crossing her arms, her stance relaxed yet defiant. “Yes.” I smother a chuckle at her obvious disregard of the assignment when she admits to the alleged crimes straight away. “I had to.”
“Umm… you had to?” Miss Latrell asks, clearly thrown off guard.
“Yes, had to,” Ruby repeats. “Sometimes, the world doesn’t give you a choice…” She fixes her eyes on me. “… like a gazelle kicking a lion—it’s not cruelty; it’s survival.”
Miss Latrell frowns, taken aback by Ruby’s confidence. “Are you saying you were forced into this? Isn’t that just an excuse?”
Ruby straightens, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not an excuse; a reason. You don’t know what it’s like to feel cornered, to be pushed until you have no other options. What would you do in my shoes?”
“Maybe I’d find a better way,” Miss Latrell replies, her voice gaining strength. “You could have sought help or found a way out that didn’t involv e hurting others.”
Ruby scoffs lightly, her body language shifting. “Oh please, as if that’s always an option. You think I didn’t try? Sometimes, desperation drives you to do things you never thought you would.”
Miss Latrell takes a small step forward, her confidence faltering slightly. “But you had a choice. You chose to harm others instead of finding a different path.”
Ruby leans closer, her intensity rising. “And what if the harm was already done to me? What if I was just fighting back? You’d fight, too, if you were backed into a corner like a wounded animal.”
The class watches with bated breath, the tension thick enough to cut. Miss Latrell hesitates, grappling with Ruby’s words. “But what about the people you hurt? The lives you ruined?”
Ruby shrugs, a flicker of defiance crossing her features. “Sometimes people get hurt in the crossfire. It’s unfortunate, but life isn’t black and white.”
Her opponent shifts her weight, clearly unsettled. “Don’t you think that’s a selfish way to think? To prioritize your own pain over others’?”
Ruby’s expression tightens. “Selfish? Maybe. But isn’t survival a bit selfish too? If you were fighting for your life, wouldn’t you do whatever it takes?”
The pretend detective stands taller now, her hands clenched at her sides. “Surviving doesn’t mean you have to destroy others in the process. There’s a line you don’t cross.”
Ruby leans in closer, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “And who decides where that line is? You? The system? The people who never had to face the same choices I did?”
Miss Latrell falters, her bravado wavering as Ruby’s intensity seeps into her defenses. “I… I just think there are consequences for every action. You can’t justify hurting innocent people.”
The air in the room is electric, the students on the edge of their seats. I lean forward slightly, watching the interplay with keen interest. “Mrs. Simmons, imagine yourself in this situation. Would you have made the same choices? Could you justify them?”
Ruby’s breath hitches as a flicker of vulnerability shines in her eyes. “I-I do n’t know,” she admits, her voice wavering. “But I understand why someone might feel driven to those extremes.”
The classroom goes silent, the weight of her admission hanging in the air. Miss Latrell seizes the opportunity, her voice steadier now. “So you’re saying you would understand, but not agree?”
“Understanding doesn’t mean approval,” Ruby replies quickly, her hands now gripping the desk. “It means I see the shades of gray. The world isn’t just black and white; sometimes, you have to navigate the murky waters.”
I can’t help but feel a swell of pride at her articulation. She’s echoing arguments from The Psychology of Crime and Power , my own book, and it strikes a chord deep within me. Is she trying to beat me at my own game? The thought sends a thrill through me.
I watch as Miss Latrell’s expression shifts, recognizing the validity of Ruby’s argument. The tension in the room morphs, becoming a mix of admiration and discomfort. “Okay,” she finally concedes, her voice softer. “But what happens when you lose control? When those murky waters swallow you whole?”
Ruby meets her gaze, her expression unyielding. “Then you drown. But at least you went down fighting.”
The classroom buzzes with murmurs; the discussion igniting a fire within them. I take a step back, letting the students absorb the depth of Ruby’s performance. She’s straddling the line between fiction and reality, and I sense the power she holds in this moment.
As the exercise wraps up, I watch Ruby closely, her confidence radiating despite the vulnerability beneath the surface. She’s transformed, owning the role with a fierce intensity that captivates the room.