after witnessing something traumatic. Rich could empathize, but sought the bigger picture. He’d never admit it, but he felt his partner in crime got too emotionally wrapped up over their stories. After his conversation with Ted Burke, Rich consciously strived to remain detached and not let his emotions hijack his reasoning and interfere with his objectivity. So far, his newfound perspective allowed him to see both sides of an issue with more clarity.
The twenty-minute drive to Mitchell Hospital proved mostly uneventful. Halfway there, Rich’s cell rang and vibrated, indicating a text message. He pulled it out and read the text message from Officer Andy Porter:
Mitchell Trauma Center
Deon Taylor 19 Deceased
Labron Smith 18 Deceased
Jadyn 16 GSW, ICU
Jamal 16 GSW, ICU
Dan Monroe 18 GSW, white kid
Tyler Cogan 16 unharmed
Remember, you NEVER saw me, nor read this message
Every bump rattled the van, producing stomach-churning bounces. Gabe was borderline nauseous as they parked outside the hospital’s front entrance. They each grabbed their gear, raised the antennas, and headed toward the two police officers guarding the double set of doors.
Before Rich had a chance to ask, the officer said, “Guys, we’re in lockdown, no one in or out. You know how it works.”
The blow-off caught him off guard. Rich didn’t recognize either cop, and they needed to get in. His choices were to either bullshit them or find another way in. “Captain Tomke knows we’re here and gave us permission to be on these premises. Go ahead and ask him. We were at the school shooting right along with him. We shot all the live coverage you saw on the TV today. Do you want to undermine a direct order from your boss?” He knew it would look bad if the officer ignored the captain’s order.
Reluctantly, the officer let them in. “Personally, I think you’re full of shit, but I got a kid that goes to school there,” he said as Rich and Gabe passed by.
They walked into the elevator, and Gabe pressed the ‘Lobby’ button. Then they waited a good fifteen seconds before the doors slid close. “Geezus. They must think we’re a busload of senior citizens or something.”
They progressed through the maze of hallways and followed the signs directing them to the information desk. “Wouldn’t you think they would have the info desk right as you get off the elevator rather than needing to form an expedition?” asked Gabe. “We hardly look like Lewis and Clark.”
A tall, older gentleman smiled from behind the desk as they approached the visitor check-in. “Are you TV people?” he asked feebly. He narrowed his eyes and peered though his bifocals, “Is that a camera?”
Rich and Gabe exchanged awkward looks. Rich spoke first. “Yes, sir, we’re here to see Tyler Cogan and Dan Monroe, the kids brought in from Loring High School. We’re from—”
“ You’re not black. The only kids I saw were black. You can’t come in unless you’re family. Hospital rules.”
“ Well I’m—”
“ I’m black. My boy Tyler is up there, and he needs to see his daddy. I’m his father. Get us signed in, and we’ll be on our way,” Gabe said forcefully. That shut the geezer up.
Rich did everything in his power not to bust up laughing. Conning a senile old bastard. We’re a classy bunch.
The man looked at the computer screen and said, “You say you’re Tyler’s dad? Well, the screen says he’s undergoing evaluation and cannot be seen until further notice. For Dan, it says, uh, room 1519. Take the elevator to the top, that’s floor fifteen. Elevator is just right there.” He pointed behind him.
The two rode the elevator up the fifteenth floor and got off. A sign on the wall pointed to their left for Monroe’s room. The room appeared on their right, and at first glance looked vacant, except for the patient information posted on the outside of the door. Two police officers—one average-sized black male and a stocky
The twenty-minute drive to Mitchell Hospital proved mostly uneventful. Halfway there, Rich’s cell rang and vibrated, indicating a text message. He pulled it out and read the text message from Officer Andy Porter:
Mitchell Trauma Center
Deon Taylor 19 Deceased
Labron Smith 18 Deceased
Jadyn 16 GSW, ICU
Jamal 16 GSW, ICU
Dan Monroe 18 GSW, white kid
Tyler Cogan 16 unharmed
Remember, you NEVER saw me, nor read this message
Every bump rattled the van, producing stomach-churning bounces. Gabe was borderline nauseous as they parked outside the hospital’s front entrance. They each grabbed their gear, raised the antennas, and headed toward the two police officers guarding the double set of doors.
Before Rich had a chance to ask, the officer said, “Guys, we’re in lockdown, no one in or out. You know how it works.”
The blow-off caught him off guard. Rich didn’t recognize either cop, and they needed to get in. His choices were to either bullshit them or find another way in. “Captain Tomke knows we’re here and gave us permission to be on these premises. Go ahead and ask him. We were at the school shooting right along with him. We shot all the live coverage you saw on the TV today. Do you want to undermine a direct order from your boss?” He knew it would look bad if the officer ignored the captain’s order.
Reluctantly, the officer let them in. “Personally, I think you’re full of shit, but I got a kid that goes to school there,” he said as Rich and Gabe passed by.
They walked into the elevator, and Gabe pressed the ‘Lobby’ button. Then they waited a good fifteen seconds before the doors slid close. “Geezus. They must think we’re a busload of senior citizens or something.”
They progressed through the maze of hallways and followed the signs directing them to the information desk. “Wouldn’t you think they would have the info desk right as you get off the elevator rather than needing to form an expedition?” asked Gabe. “We hardly look like Lewis and Clark.”
A tall, older gentleman smiled from behind the desk as they approached the visitor check-in. “Are you TV people?” he asked feebly. He narrowed his eyes and peered though his bifocals, “Is that a camera?”
Rich and Gabe exchanged awkward looks. Rich spoke first. “Yes, sir, we’re here to see Tyler Cogan and Dan Monroe, the kids brought in from Loring High School. We’re from—”
“ You’re not black. The only kids I saw were black. You can’t come in unless you’re family. Hospital rules.”
“ Well I’m—”
“ I’m black. My boy Tyler is up there, and he needs to see his daddy. I’m his father. Get us signed in, and we’ll be on our way,” Gabe said forcefully. That shut the geezer up.
Rich did everything in his power not to bust up laughing. Conning a senile old bastard. We’re a classy bunch.
The man looked at the computer screen and said, “You say you’re Tyler’s dad? Well, the screen says he’s undergoing evaluation and cannot be seen until further notice. For Dan, it says, uh, room 1519. Take the elevator to the top, that’s floor fifteen. Elevator is just right there.” He pointed behind him.
The two rode the elevator up the fifteenth floor and got off. A sign on the wall pointed to their left for Monroe’s room. The room appeared on their right, and at first glance looked vacant, except for the patient information posted on the outside of the door. Two police officers—one average-sized black male and a stocky
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