Dennis Fritz was an ordinary man living an ordinary life in Ada , Oklahoma . A school teacher whose wife was brutally murdered in 1975, Dennis was raising his young daughter on his own. On the fateful evening of May 8, 1987 , Dennis was enveloped by a sudden foreboding sensation. He could not explain the eerie feeling in his gut-the sense that something is about to happen. Two hours later, he was under arrest, handcuffed and on his way to jail on charges of rape and murder. Read excerpts of the book, below.
I jumped back in surprise as I approached the doorway. There on the porch in the dark stood three men—two dressed in suits, one in casual wear—listening at the screen door. All three wore the same unpleasant, discourteous expression, an expression that didn’t change as I neared the door.
Half-dazed and confused, I turned on the porch light and uttered, “Can I do something for you gentlemen?”
There was a moment of awkwardness before the man in the polo shirt, the one closest to the screen door, broke his silence by asking in a deep baritone, “Is your name Dennis Fritz?” His question set my nerves on edge as his look penetrated my face. I didn’t recognize him. His straightforward approach puzzled me, as though he may have had some business with me before.
From behind me in the hallway I heard Mom call out, “Son, Who is…talking…late.” I could barely distinguish her words, let alone give her an answer. I stood riveted in curiosity and fear by the triple set of dagger glares from the men who were awaiting my response.
I pushed open the screen door a few inches and looked beyond the men on the porch. Something moved in the front yard. By the glow of the porch light, I was able to make out a handful of men in uniforms crouching on the lawn. I froze as I counted. There were maybe twenty officers altogether, all pointing what appeared to be automatic weapons at me. To my left, and then to my right beyond the screen, more uniformed officers slid into position as I held onto the door handle. Likewise, their weapon barrels were trained at me. I felt woozy. Courage drained from me in a flash as I stammered to answer the interrogator’s question:
“Yes, my name is Dennis.” I took a breath and blurted out “What’s the matter?”
Without acknowledging may question, one of the strangers in a suit repeated his partner’s question: “Is your full name Dennis Fritz?”
Something—I didn’t know what—was seriously wrong with this situation. In the seconds before I answered, I determined that they were making a big mistake. I didn’t even live here. Wasn’t it possible that there were two Dennis Fritzes in this city, and that they had the wrong one? I hadn’t done anything that warranted a SWAT team. My mind struggled to understand what was playing out. Every sound, every motion, every smell, every sensation came to me in slow motion, like I was watching a movie on a giant three-dimensional panoramic screen.
“Yes, my name is Dennis Fritz,” I answered. —Page 7
Dennis Fritz's Book. "Journey Toward Justice" click here
International Orders Order Here "Journey Toward Justice" by Dennis Fritz From Around The World click hereAmazon International Just type in Journey Toward Justice Author Dennis Fritz
Excerpt from "Journey Toward Justice" by Dennis Fritz
Copyright © 2006 by Seven Locks Press. Excerpted by permission of Seven Locks Press All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher