in view.
“But I need to know what happened.” Jacquie reached both her hands in my direction as if I she was going under and I was a flotation device. “I was so stupid. Something was going on with Joey and I didn’t know and if I knew I could have stopped it, or done something differently. But there’s something I don’t know. Mothers sense these things. Maybe you can find it.” She seemed to hold her breath waiting for my answer.
Tim was holding his, too, and something about that pissed me off a little, so I said, “Here’s what I can do. I know people and I know what questions to ask. Sometimes I can get answers that regular people can’t. I’ll find out if there’s anything at all you haven’t been told. Maybe there’s nothing else to know. Maybe then I can refer you to a support group. Maybe then you can begin to heal.”
Jacquie wasn’t willing to let it rest. “There was never a blood test done. You know, to see if he was poisoned.”
“I spoke with the ME, the medical examiner. He said he took blood and sent it to the lab, but he doesn’t have a report back.”
“See what I mean? It’s been six months! Don’t you think there’s something suspicious about that?”
“I know this sounds awful, but it happens that way sometimes. There’s no conspiracy.” I didn’t mention that Manriquez told me Tim asked him not to do an autopsy, that it would disturb his wife. It didn’t sound right now like that would have been the actual case. Jacquie sounded like she might have demanded one if she’d been given the chance. So I gave her some of the truth now.
“Whether or not there was any controlled substance in your son’s blood, the medical examiner would still have ruled it an accidental death. They might have kept the blood samples, but if the tests haven’t been done by now, the blood would have metabolized any foreign substance, eaten it, if you will. There wouldn’t be anything to find.”
Jacquie said, “What about exhuming his body and running more tests?”
I explained a little about how only certain poisons, such as arsenic, gravitated to the tissues, bones, and hair, that in the course of embalming all the blood is removed so for something like prescription, street drugs, or alcohol, there wouldn’t be any evidence left even without the metabolism.
“Well, what about arsenic?” Jacquie said, nodding so vigorously she appeared to want to influence my head to do the same.
As she spoke I glanced at Tim to see how he was reacting to all this. He stood up as tall as he could to get the most out of his average height. Jacquie stood up and got between him and me. I never had a child, but I knew that a woman who would never stand up for herself would get between a mountain lion and her kid. Tim took his car keys out of his shorts pocket. “My wife is a huge fan of those CSI shows,” he said. “But I guess this show’s over. Excuse me, I’ve got some running around to do.” Then he left.
He was right about the show. You could tell it was a script they had rehearsed before, probably often. They used to ask me how I could work among the criminal element, encounter evil without being broken by it. Well, the fact is we all get broken by it. We’re the walking wounded, dealing with the trauma through drugs, alcohol, sex, or psychiatry. Lucky for me I found Carlo rather than wind up like the Neilsens. I find myself more stunned by this cruel sadness than by the most heinous serial killer. It takes you by surprise no matter how much you know it’s the human condition, just under the surface everywhere.
Seventeen
Jacquie turned to me, more spent than triumphant, yet when she spoke her voice was surprisingly steady. “I still don’t understand why they didn’t do a toxicological test. They can do those in twenty-four hours, can’t they?”
“Oh, Jacquie.” Seeing her desperation to create information where there was none, seeing how she was all alone in her need, made me
“But I need to know what happened.” Jacquie reached both her hands in my direction as if I she was going under and I was a flotation device. “I was so stupid. Something was going on with Joey and I didn’t know and if I knew I could have stopped it, or done something differently. But there’s something I don’t know. Mothers sense these things. Maybe you can find it.” She seemed to hold her breath waiting for my answer.
Tim was holding his, too, and something about that pissed me off a little, so I said, “Here’s what I can do. I know people and I know what questions to ask. Sometimes I can get answers that regular people can’t. I’ll find out if there’s anything at all you haven’t been told. Maybe there’s nothing else to know. Maybe then I can refer you to a support group. Maybe then you can begin to heal.”
Jacquie wasn’t willing to let it rest. “There was never a blood test done. You know, to see if he was poisoned.”
“I spoke with the ME, the medical examiner. He said he took blood and sent it to the lab, but he doesn’t have a report back.”
“See what I mean? It’s been six months! Don’t you think there’s something suspicious about that?”
“I know this sounds awful, but it happens that way sometimes. There’s no conspiracy.” I didn’t mention that Manriquez told me Tim asked him not to do an autopsy, that it would disturb his wife. It didn’t sound right now like that would have been the actual case. Jacquie sounded like she might have demanded one if she’d been given the chance. So I gave her some of the truth now.
“Whether or not there was any controlled substance in your son’s blood, the medical examiner would still have ruled it an accidental death. They might have kept the blood samples, but if the tests haven’t been done by now, the blood would have metabolized any foreign substance, eaten it, if you will. There wouldn’t be anything to find.”
Jacquie said, “What about exhuming his body and running more tests?”
I explained a little about how only certain poisons, such as arsenic, gravitated to the tissues, bones, and hair, that in the course of embalming all the blood is removed so for something like prescription, street drugs, or alcohol, there wouldn’t be any evidence left even without the metabolism.
“Well, what about arsenic?” Jacquie said, nodding so vigorously she appeared to want to influence my head to do the same.
As she spoke I glanced at Tim to see how he was reacting to all this. He stood up as tall as he could to get the most out of his average height. Jacquie stood up and got between him and me. I never had a child, but I knew that a woman who would never stand up for herself would get between a mountain lion and her kid. Tim took his car keys out of his shorts pocket. “My wife is a huge fan of those CSI shows,” he said. “But I guess this show’s over. Excuse me, I’ve got some running around to do.” Then he left.
He was right about the show. You could tell it was a script they had rehearsed before, probably often. They used to ask me how I could work among the criminal element, encounter evil without being broken by it. Well, the fact is we all get broken by it. We’re the walking wounded, dealing with the trauma through drugs, alcohol, sex, or psychiatry. Lucky for me I found Carlo rather than wind up like the Neilsens. I find myself more stunned by this cruel sadness than by the most heinous serial killer. It takes you by surprise no matter how much you know it’s the human condition, just under the surface everywhere.
Seventeen
Jacquie turned to me, more spent than triumphant, yet when she spoke her voice was surprisingly steady. “I still don’t understand why they didn’t do a toxicological test. They can do those in twenty-four hours, can’t they?”
“Oh, Jacquie.” Seeing her desperation to create information where there was none, seeing how she was all alone in her need, made me
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