Homicide is Murder: Chapter 2 - The Convenience Store

Since writing "I See Dead People Part 2" I've realized that writing about my sister's murder is far too long a story and far too emotional for me to write about in one entry, so the second half of "I See Dead People Part 2" is now "Homicide is Murder: Chapter 1 - The Bodies."

As for calling these posts "Homicide is Murder", well that's just my attempt to make light of a horrible situation. I have a history of questionable humor surrounding death. My favorite example is when I was working with a group of people who were talking about the gifts they were going to get their mothers for Mother's Day. I piped up, "I'm not getting my mom anything!" Of course this made my coworkers ask why not, to which I replied, "She hasn't got me anything in 14 years." When they once again asked me why I answered with a devilish grin, "Because she's dead!" I don't know why I was surprised that such a joke wasn't very well received, but I was. I was also angry when some of the people self-righteously informed me that such humor is inappropriate and disrespectful. I didn't say it, but I thought "Fuck you, I'm the one with a dead mother!"

So in the last post I told you how my friend Trip and I found my sister Melanie and her fiance John shot dead in my house. Furthermore, we found that the phone line had been cut, so we jumped back into my car and drove to a nearby convenience store so I could call the police.

I went in and immediately asked to use the phone. The clerk, a man in his late forties or early fifties, seemed put out but must have sensed my urgency and reluctantly agreed to let me use the phone. For the first and so far only time in my life I called 911. When asked to state the nature of my emergency, I shakily said that two people had been shot, and I thought that they were dead. I was asked where the people were, and I gave my home address. I was asked if I knew who had shot them, and I answered honestly - no. The 911 operator then told me that a police officer would come to pick me up, and to please stay on the line.

I'm sorry, reader, if some of the details after that are hazy. I'm sure you'll understand that I was under a great deal of stress, and that this was long ago, but I really don't remember if the 911 operator said anything else. I'm sure they must have, because I was on the line for the next 15 to 20 minutes, but I recall none of it. What I do recall is much sooner than I expected I saw a sheriff deputy's cruiser go by faster than I'd ever seen a car go on a public street, all sirens and lights. I remember that after a few minutes people started coming into the store saying, "Did you here about those people getting shot?" I'm not sure how news spreads that fast. I know there was a trailer park across the street, and I'm guessing some people in the store overheard me on the phone, went back to the trailer park to spread the news, and that the urge to gossip drove these new people to go to the convenience store to ask the clerk if he'd heard.

Incredibly, the clerk had apparently not overheard me on the phone, as he seemed to be stunned by the news. Then I guess his urge to gossip kicked in, because he turned to me and angrily asked how long I was going to be on the phone. I explained that the 911 operator had asked me to stay on the line until a police officer arrived, and though I could see the realization that it was me who had called in the shooting spread over the clerk's face, and though I also thought I then saw some sign of embarrassment over having yelled at me in his eyes, apparently he had a stubborn need to show me he was right to be angry in the first place, as he now gruffly told me to hurry up. As if I wanted to be there on the phone! As if I had any control over the situation!

After a couple more deputies and an ambulance sped by, and after what seemed like an eternity, two more deputies stopped at the convenience store to take Trip and I to the police station in separate cars. That wait had seemed like an eternity, but I knew nothing of eternities, nor how many were still to come.