Jill Jackson - 04 - Watch the World Burn by Leah Giarratano Page B
Authors: Leah Giarratano
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could have saved himself the trip if he’d kept up with how to use the bloody internet properly.
First thing this morning he’d tried a Google search on Caine. There were so many hits that he abandoned the idea quickly. He decided to search the newspaper websites for stories about women electrocuted around twelve years ago, when Mona would have been about four. On one of these sites he found a tab marked ‘Archives’, and, relatively quickly, up popped the link to an article entitled ‘Husband Urges Households to Install Safety Switches after Electrocution Death of Wife’. It was dated 14 June 1998, which seemed about right. Pleased with himself, he’d clicked the link. A box flashed up, informing him that he could view the article if he logged in or registered.
That’s when the fun had started. He could not figure out how to log in to retrieve the article, and when his outdated laptop froze for the third time, he gave up in disgust. He wrote down the details of the article, grabbed his keys and got out of there. Now, with the familiar microfiche system in front of him, he trawled quickly until he found the article.
Husband Urges Households to Install Safety Switches after Electrocution Death of Wife
Finding his wife dead in the bath was the most terrible moment of his life, says David Caine, of Fortitude Valley, QLD, and today he urged all Australians to install safety switches to prevent such a tragedy happening in their homes. Last week’s death of Louise Caine, 26, comes during a federal government drive to encourage householders to have the electrical circuit-breaker systems installed. This young mother’s death was a terrible reminder of what can happen in unprotected households.
‘We’d just put our daughter to bed,’ Mr Caine said yesterday. ‘My wife had given our daughter a bath, and then added more water for herself. When she got in, it overflowed. We always had the hairdryer on the platform of the bath – stupid, I know. It was plugged in, and the water on the platform became live, killing my wife instantly. That’s how easily someone can die. Police have told me that Louise would be alive today if we’d had a safety switch. Do a better job of protecting your family. Don’t let this happen to you.’
Troy printed the article and leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing at the stubble on his chin. What does this prove? he asked himself. Well, it showed that Caine had once lived in Queensland. And one more thing. It showed that he was right about David Caine. The guy was off.
18
Sunday, 28 November, 4.12pm
‘I don’t want to take it, Mum,’ Jill said. She sat propped against the headboard of her bed, knees tucked up to her chest.
‘It’s only a Valium, Jill,’ said Frances Jackson. ‘I spoke to Dr Raj. He said it’ll help you right now. You’ve got to get some sleep, honey.’
‘Will it stop the rain?’
Frances Jackson sighed deeply and perched carefully on her daughter’s double bed, reaching out a hand towards her. ‘It’s not raining, baby,’ she said.
‘It sounds like it,’ said Jill. It was all she could hear clearly. Her mum’s voice was muffled, distorted.
The doorbell sounded. Frances Jackson stood.
‘No!’ said Jill. ‘Don’t let anyone in here, Mum.’
‘It’s okay, Jill. It’s just Gabriel. I sent him out to pick up the script, remember?’
‘I don’t want to see him today.’
Frances paused in the doorway, her smile gentle, her eyes terrified. ‘Jill, honey. He’s only been gone ten minutes.’
‘He was here today? Why?’ I wish the goddamn rain would stop.
The doorbell sounded again. Frances spoke over her shoulder as she moved to answer it. ‘He brought you home from work, darling. After the meeting ... about Scotty.’
Images flashed into Jill’s mind: Andreessen, Lawrence Last, Elvis, Emma. The briefing. The bus. Scotty on fire. Under the desk, screaming. She scanned through the pictures quickly. She couldn’t remember
First thing this morning he’d tried a Google search on Caine. There were so many hits that he abandoned the idea quickly. He decided to search the newspaper websites for stories about women electrocuted around twelve years ago, when Mona would have been about four. On one of these sites he found a tab marked ‘Archives’, and, relatively quickly, up popped the link to an article entitled ‘Husband Urges Households to Install Safety Switches after Electrocution Death of Wife’. It was dated 14 June 1998, which seemed about right. Pleased with himself, he’d clicked the link. A box flashed up, informing him that he could view the article if he logged in or registered.
That’s when the fun had started. He could not figure out how to log in to retrieve the article, and when his outdated laptop froze for the third time, he gave up in disgust. He wrote down the details of the article, grabbed his keys and got out of there. Now, with the familiar microfiche system in front of him, he trawled quickly until he found the article.
Husband Urges Households to Install Safety Switches after Electrocution Death of Wife
Finding his wife dead in the bath was the most terrible moment of his life, says David Caine, of Fortitude Valley, QLD, and today he urged all Australians to install safety switches to prevent such a tragedy happening in their homes. Last week’s death of Louise Caine, 26, comes during a federal government drive to encourage householders to have the electrical circuit-breaker systems installed. This young mother’s death was a terrible reminder of what can happen in unprotected households.
‘We’d just put our daughter to bed,’ Mr Caine said yesterday. ‘My wife had given our daughter a bath, and then added more water for herself. When she got in, it overflowed. We always had the hairdryer on the platform of the bath – stupid, I know. It was plugged in, and the water on the platform became live, killing my wife instantly. That’s how easily someone can die. Police have told me that Louise would be alive today if we’d had a safety switch. Do a better job of protecting your family. Don’t let this happen to you.’
Troy printed the article and leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing at the stubble on his chin. What does this prove? he asked himself. Well, it showed that Caine had once lived in Queensland. And one more thing. It showed that he was right about David Caine. The guy was off.
18
Sunday, 28 November, 4.12pm
‘I don’t want to take it, Mum,’ Jill said. She sat propped against the headboard of her bed, knees tucked up to her chest.
‘It’s only a Valium, Jill,’ said Frances Jackson. ‘I spoke to Dr Raj. He said it’ll help you right now. You’ve got to get some sleep, honey.’
‘Will it stop the rain?’
Frances Jackson sighed deeply and perched carefully on her daughter’s double bed, reaching out a hand towards her. ‘It’s not raining, baby,’ she said.
‘It sounds like it,’ said Jill. It was all she could hear clearly. Her mum’s voice was muffled, distorted.
The doorbell sounded. Frances Jackson stood.
‘No!’ said Jill. ‘Don’t let anyone in here, Mum.’
‘It’s okay, Jill. It’s just Gabriel. I sent him out to pick up the script, remember?’
‘I don’t want to see him today.’
Frances paused in the doorway, her smile gentle, her eyes terrified. ‘Jill, honey. He’s only been gone ten minutes.’
‘He was here today? Why?’ I wish the goddamn rain would stop.
The doorbell sounded again. Frances spoke over her shoulder as she moved to answer it. ‘He brought you home from work, darling. After the meeting ... about Scotty.’
Images flashed into Jill’s mind: Andreessen, Lawrence Last, Elvis, Emma. The briefing. The bus. Scotty on fire. Under the desk, screaming. She scanned through the pictures quickly. She couldn’t remember
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