“Dude! You want to watch these vids, you gotta watch ‘em right!”
He purposely chose a corner-basement unit to minimize noise complaints, but it wound up being a non-issue. He could have put a moto-cross track in his living room, and no one would have complained. All of his neighbors (like everyone else) loved him.
He’d divided his only bedroom in half using some lead piping and a heavy, black curtain he purchased at cost from a local community theater. He ushered the two detectives into the room, halting them just inside the doorway for full effect. All smiles, the drummer backed up to the curtain and whipped it aside…
“Pa-dow!”
…exposing his bitchin’ array of AV gear. To the left was a seventy-eight-inch curved-screen UHD TV mounted four feet off the floor. To the right was Chaz’s work station, complete with a captain’s chair and the latest Mac Book Pro. Five JBL speakers of varying size and purpose were positioned strategically around the room. Sound proofing concealed the only window.
Chaz made a sweeping gesture toward a duct tape ‘X’ on the carpet.
“Stand on the mighty X for the optimal sound experience gentlemen. I worked it out specifically for the room. I can drag a La-Z Boy in from the living room if you want. There’s room for two in it if you squeeze…”
“We’re good, Chaz, thanks.”
Lynch, out of both courtesy and curiosity, planted himself on the mighty X. Gomez followed Chaz behind the console. Seconds later, the signature Apple “chime” came forth permeating three of Lynch’s five senses.
“Whoah! Optimal sound…you weren’t kidding.”
“I know, right?”
Ugh!
Chaz held up two remote controls and finished the ritual.
Right hand – “Pyooow!” – the TV went on.
Left hand – “Pyooow!” – the lights went off.
“What would you like to see, gentlemen?”
Lynch answered.
“Any extra footage you took. Anything you shot other than the performances.”
“Okay, I don’t have that stuff memorized. Here, watch this while I find it.”
Before Lynch could protest, Generation Us’s opening number from the BOB appeared before him…with optimal sound.
Jesus is just alright with me…Jesus is just alright oh yeah…
By the light of a Mac Book Pro, Gomez was watching a man in his element. Chaz was bouncing around well-organized folders of raw footage taking breaks to play air guitar and comment on the music.
“You don’t need to change the lyrics to this one!”
Get past the chintz, the boy knew what he was doing.
The tune ended…
“Sorry guys, had to let it finish.”
…and he brought up the first of twenty-three crowd clips he’d saved from the show. Most of the clip was filled with young(ish) women showing support for their respective praise teams by revealing copious amounts of leg and cleavage.
Gomez asked the obvious.
“This is a church thing, right?”
“Hey man, rock ‘n roll is rock ‘n roll.”
The drummer held up a fist for Gomez to punch. The detective didn’t leave him hanging. Lynch didn’t see it, but he sensed it.
Tool.
“Is this enough, gentlemen? Or do you need to see more?”
Lynch answered.
“What do you have from the We’re All Lazarus performance?”
“The question is what don’t I have from the We’re All Lazarus performance.”
With a click of the mouse, the shot changed, and We’re All Lazarus appeared on stage getting ready to call up their first number.
“No no Chaz. Off stage, off stage!”
“Oh, right. My bad.”
There were a few moments of silence while Chaz found the right clip. Lynch took advantage.
“So, you had two cameras there.”
“I had a camera set on a tripod that I used to shoot the show, and I had my phone which I kept mobile…ha!…mobile phone…funny!”
The next clip started. It was a long one. We’re All Lazarus was blurry in the background playing to an adoring crowd. People walked into and out frame bobbing their heads to the music and drinking their non-alcoholic beverages.
Lynch hollered to be heard.
“You’re outside at this point loading the van, correct?!”
“Yes! A guy named Rudy has my phone. I didn’t want to miss anything.”
“Any particular reason you chose that moment to load?”
“We drew the short straw! With that many bands, the event has to stick to a pretty tight load schedule! More than one heavy vehicle back there, and the walkway tumbles into the Schuylkill!”
Lynch went back to the clip. Not much was audible above Rudy’s whistles and cheers. When the video hit ten minutes and twenty-one seconds, Lynch spotted what he’d hoped.
“There we go. Chaz, pause it!”
“Paused!”
It was Brother Devlin walking to the back of the hall, and he was on his cell phone. Lynch rubbed his chin.
“Eddie Williams has you guys at gunpoint right now.”
“I would say so.”
“In a few seconds the gun will go off. Let it run a bit.”
They watched the clip to the end. It ran another eight minutes, and as far as Lynch could tell, no one in the church had a clue anything was happening on the walkway. It was consistent with We’re All Lazarus’s story, but the clip was too shaky and dark to tell for sure.
“Back it up to Devlin again.”
“Done.”
They watched Devlin cross the screen, yelling into his cell phone.
“What song is this?”
“It’s one of their originals. It’s called Pity Party.”
“Can I see the stage footage of the song?”
“Easier done than said.”
Another paused image of the BOB champs appeared.
“Ernie, come up here and give me a second set of eyes.”
“What are we looking for?”
“No idea.”
Lynch was reminded of an old joke:
A guy is walking around at night and sees another guy looking for something under a streetlamp. The first guy asks, “what are you looking for?” The second guy replies, “I lost my watch over by that fence.” The first guy then says, “If you lost it by the fence, why are you looking for it under the streetlamp?” The second guy answers, “Because I can’t see a fuckin’
