I did it because I was bored of the Murder Box. I know every scrap of paper in it. I know how many counseling sessions Victims Services paid for; I know exactly how much the mortuary wrote off the bill as "professional courtesy;" I know the three causes of death stated on the certificate, and I know the time of death, to the minute (which actually has nothing to do with the time she died, but the time when a living witness confirmed it, which was three days later. Never mind that for three days, she was as metabolic as a spinach salad.)
And because I'm an animal and animals will sniff around places of interest until they exhaust themselves or get driven off, I ordered the coroner's autopsy report from my home state.
And because I'm impulsive, impatient, and twitchy, I opened it right away.
And because I'm a selfish ass who's afraid of having a single private moment, I read the first page out loud to my fiance.
And because I did that, I undid the perfect, shiny veneer of polyurethane that my self-protective brain sprayed over the top of everything after the trial two years ago. I chiseled it off in short curls that fell off the sides of that horrible moment that I saw her, and I scraped and sanded until the rawness of those following days was restored to its original beauty.
Two years ago, I chose not to look at the photographs they presented as evidence in the trial - it was the one thing I didn't want to know - I gave myself that in a gesture of loving compassion. And then I undid it by reading the very thorough and unsugared prose of the coroners report of the scene as he found it. Of the body as he found it.
I put the 12-page report back in my purse without going further. I was shaking. I snapped at my fiance when he made a sound - a sound like he'd just discovered me poking holes in myself with a rusty pair of scissors. And I snapped at him and told him not to say a word and not to tell me I couldn't and shouldn't do this, because I had to do it. I will not only read, but illustrate, tattoo on myself, and eat each page of that report - crumple, chew, chew, and swallow every single page regardless of the risk of bowel obstruction.
Because I am an animal. A dumb, sniffing animal, hoping to lift my nose at last and turn to the pack and say, This - This is what it is.
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I love this analogy. It is true, we do revert to our most animal core when faced with trauma. Not being able to turn away from a car crash. I think it's because we need to know on the most basic level, what can we learn from this? Will this happen again in the future? Will it look like this when it happens to me?
ReplyDeleteI saw the pictures, I will say WHEN for you now. Don't do it. I'm sure I am too late, but I tried to say DON'T DO IT when I sat in that courtroom with you and had enough morbid curiosity to look. This is your mother we're talking about it, it's not some gory accident on the side of the road. Does looking at these pictures contribute to your healing in some original way? Ask yourself that before going forward.
ReplyDeleteBad, terrible, unimaginable things happen to GOOD people every single day. The world can be just as cruel and punishing as it can be miraculous and glorious. These pics need not prove to you that what happened to her was horrific. You already know that. You wanted to tell YOUR version of the story now, not to hear more of someone eles's.
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ReplyDeleteJamie and I already had this talk on the phone since she commented here, but as this blog is meant to illuminate my course of writing this book and preparing to write certain parts of it, I'll answer it here:
ReplyDeleteI will not look at the pictures. I promised myself that on the plane to California for the trial. Why I drew the line there - well, maybe so that I could draw a line *somewhere*. An act of loving kindness.
But I ordered the coroner's report, yes, and I read the description. I did it because I'm a seeker. And because it isn't all about me - it's about us. We will all die, some in terrible ways. We will do terrible things to one another, or it will happen around us. Who are we in the face of these things? Where is grace?
I found grace everywhere - I found it in places and moments you would never guess, and that's why I'm doing this. To light up a part of the realm we shut out, whose geography we know only from the grotesque, heartless, and vapid, extremist depictions of it in crime shows, blockbusters, and via Nancy Grace.
I have found something beautiful to do with the coroner's report. Trust me.
I didn't want to tell just my version, but our version.
Will you believe me when I say that I have found the miraculous and glorious in the midst of the cruel and punishing? That's my task. And with friends like you to protect me, I will be reminded to draw a line somewhere. Thank you for that.