Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

Lois paused.

Sniffles and coughs went around the group. Keller’shead was bowed, his eyes were shut tight, his hands clasped. Praying? Reedwaited for Martin’s reaction. She wasn’t watching Keller.

“For about a year after that I went through themotions of living. Bill and I retreated into ourselves. He didn’t want to talk.I wanted counseling together. He didn’t. And I couldn’t go alone. I feltbitter, angry for being punished unfairly, I felt abandoned, helpless,worthless. I contemplated suicide, divorce. That’s when I saw Kate’s notice inthe Chronicle about her research. I decided to volunteer and told Bill Ihad enrolled in a hobby course at the university. He thinks my ‘course’ hasdone a world of good, It has. Tonight I’ll tell him what I’ve been doing.”

Reed knew the case. Bobby Ray Walker, a truck mechanicwith a history of mental problems, was the sniper who shoot Lois’s son. Walkerwas serving a life sentence in Folsom for the murder.

Reed asked Lois how Martin’s research group had helpedher.

“It’s helped me come to terms with losing my child.I’m able to function now. I’m able laugh at a good joke, eat a hearty meal,sleep through the night. I certainly don’t tell every person I meet the detailsI’ve told you, but I can deal with talking about it without falling to pieces.I still feel uneasy seeing a funeral procession. I’ll never fully recover fromlosing Allan. No parent is ever, ever the same after losing a child because apiece of you dies, too. This group has helped me survive my loss. We’ve allhelped each other and Kate has been our guide. Some people cannot endure such ablow alone. The feeling of guilt, rage, blame, loss, futility are overwhelming,almost fatal. At times I thought I was losing my mind. Hearing my son’s voiceat night, smelling his scent, seeing him in malls, in my dreams, feeling hiskiss on my cheek.”

“How is this group different from others?”

“Some are politically motivated. Some seek vengeance.Eye for an eye. There’s nothing wrong with that, if that’s what you feel inyour heart. I was a member of such a group during Walker’s trial. At the time Iwas embittered. I believed Walker should be executed. I no longer feelvengeance in my heart. Feeling that way won’t bring Allan back. This group isdifferent because it is not a public auction agency. It is research. Theobjective is to study our bereavement, our pain and anguish with the aim ofunderstanding it, healing. We’ve been helped tremendously.”

The others followed with their stories, each accountas heart wrenching as the previous one. Reed’s eyes burned as he listened andtook notes. What was happening here? As a hardened crime reporter he had seenenough tragedy for twenty lifetimes. This was getting to him. Why? Because he’dresearched most of these cases, or that he’d actually covered some? He didn’tknow. He questioned himself, what he did for a living. Fear of the pain he mayhave wrongly caused Franklin Wallace’s wife and daughter gnawed at him. Hethought of Ann and Zach and what he had almost lost in his own life.Self-loathing, self-doubt, and confusion haunted him in the eyes of thesegrieving parents.

Sitting there, Reed felt sadden. Alone. Utterly alone.

He noticed Keller staring at him as he heard Martinsuggesting the group take a break.

“I think it’s going well, Tom. Don’t you?” Martinsmiled. He agreed, then excused himself to go to the washroom.

Relieved that the washroom was empty, Reed positioned himself at the urinal.Keller swung through the door and took the one next to him.

“Do you believe in God, Mr. Reed?”

Reed laughed. Given the circumstances, the questionwas absurd. He shook his head.

“Is that your answer?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you believe in God, Mr. Reed?”

“Look, I know it may be awkward having me here. Butyou should know that I appreciate the opportunity.” Reed washed his hands.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“What I believe is irrelevant.”

“Lois Jensen believes. Some of the others are on theirway.” Keller bent over the adjacent sink, opening the faucets. “We try to helpeach other in our assemblage.’

Assemblage? Was he going to break into Scripture now?

“I’m helping them spiritually through the pain. ‘Throughthe valley of the dark sun.’”

The valley of the dark sun. Reed knew the old poem: “Awatery Death” by Ledel I. Zoran.

Keller splashed his face. “I believe you are here totest me.”

“Test you? I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

Keller continued splashing his face. His voice had aneerie resonance as he recited: “Between the dream and the day comes thespecter.” Tiny water rivulets slithered down his face. “Are you the specter,sent to destroy my work?”

“Your work?” Reed was puzzled, somewhat uneasy. “No.I’m not the specter. I’m afraid I can’t help you there. Excuse me.” Reed tosseda crumpled paper towel into the trash.

Angela Donner spoke with a little voice, a child’svoice.

“I gave birth to Tanita in the back of a bus in SanMateo. I was seventeen, living by myself. But I was going to keep my baby. Mybaby and me were going to make a better life for us together. I was going tofinish school, be a good mother.”

Angela pondered her clasped fingers and sniffled.

“When Tanita Marie was stolen from me and killed, thatwas the day I stopped dreaming. Everything went dark. Everything. I wanted todie.” Martin passed Angela a tissue. “I bought a big bottle of sleeping pillsthe day before Dr. Martin came to visit. I planned to kill myself. Dr. Martinsaved me. I am glad she came.”

Martin smiled encouragingly at her.

“She helped me hang on, helped me think that maybesomething good would come from Tanita Marie’s murder. That’s when this researchgot started and it made me feel that Tanita Marie didn’t die in vain.”

Angela dabbed her eyes. “But some of the bad feelingscame back when Danny Becker got kidnapped in Balboa. It woke up my pain.Someone’s out there stealing children. I pray every night for Danny Becker’smother and father. I saw them on TV. I pray their son will be returned safe,that the police find the person who took him and the person that murdered mybaby.”

Reed paused a moment before asking her a few softquestions about the group. Afterward, she agreed to be interviewed later at herhome, then Reed turned to a fresh page in his notebook.

Keller wanted to go next. “I think it’s appropriate, Igive my testimony now,” He said.

“Certainly Edward,” Martin said

Keller looked at Reed. “I remind you, I do not wish tobe identified in any way in your newspaper, but I believe what I have to say iscrucial.”

“That’s not a problem,” Reed said.

Keller studied Reed for several moments beforebeginning with a recitation: “’All that he was, all that he had been, looked backfrom the still water.’”

Keller allowed the words to be absorbed. Martin put ahand to her temple as if anticipating disaster.

“You know those lines, Mr. Reed?”

Zoran again. Reed nodded. “’A Watery Death,’ I think”

“My children drowned.”

Reed hadn’t found any clippings in the newspaper’slibrary about Keller’s case. “I understand,” he said.

“You understand.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever lost a child?”

“No”

“you have children?”

“A son, Zach. He’s nine.”

Keller pondered this information. “My eldest boy wasnine when he died. It was a boating accident.” Keller’s eyes were cold, dry.

Reed prompted him. “You lost all your children?”

“Yes. All three of my children. Pierce was nine,Alisha six, and Joshua was three. I was with them. Just the four of us. Irented a boat to the Farallons. A storm hit as we neared the islands.”