Oh My

I, like many of my contemporaries, have a fascination with forensics.  The media does not disappoint - - television offers us plenty of opportunity to sate our macabre interest with shows like Law and Order, Forensic Files, CSI, Cold Case Files, Americas Most Wanted, etc.  When we can watch it from the security of our locked homes, in the cool analytical light of the television, we call it entertainment. 

The closest I had personally gotten to grisly and shocking was in upstate New York when I lived in the same village as a fella who dismembered the remains of his mother (who died of natural causes) and placed them in the freezer so he could continue to collect her pension checks.  Dreadful all on its own.  There was little extra side kick in the neighbor, fully aware of all the goings-on, who was extorting money from the son to keep quiet.  Word was he helped put her in the freezer. 

Caused quite the stir in our quiet little village.  The police tape remained undisturbed for years.

Fast forward my life nine years.  Loudoun County, where the grass is green, the spring comes early and the rich roam free.  My continuing- to-expand suburb is lovely and affluent (except me…I’m sure my salary brings the gross national product for the county way down).  My little development is quiet and well manicured.  You just don’t expect stuff to happen.

10:00 am Wednesday, April 15, building across from mine.  Resident male contacts 911, indicating that he attempted to harm himself.  Upon responding and being taken to the hospital, the man indicates to the police officers that there was something else in the apartment, “…but you probably already knew that.”  “Yeah, we do.”

Apparently, Resident Male had strangled his girlfriend several weeks ago, wrapped her in plastic, kept her under the bed, and used her email account so that friends and family thought she was still alive. 

My cousin Starbuck had texted me that there was an incident in my complex, and of course my thoughts flew to Chick and the suspected bunker of doom.  Fortunately no.  But by the time I got home at 5:30 pm, there were 15 sheriff cars, 2 CSI vans and one videographer capturing the scene.  A uniform stood outside the entrance to ensure the crime scene remain unpolluted. 

Upon reflection, I realized who the perp was – I’d pass by his apartment when I walked Buddy.  He’d be outside early in the morning smoking a cigarette, we’d say hello, remark on the weather.  He had a big white dog who would watch us walk past from the living room picture window.  My daughter had heard the couple argue in the past.  Couple of broken windows in their apartment that never got fixed over the few months they lived there. 

Creepy.  Glad it wasn’t Chick. 

Read a little more here.