Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Ida called the Mayor and asked for two patrol cars to be parked in front of their house. There had been some traffic, a few knocks on the door, and they were in no mood to deal with reporters or anyone else. The television had been turned off. Jordan was flying in from Houston where she was spending the summer clerking for a law firm. Brady was headed home from Boston.

And Murray was at the resort waiting for the authorities. It wasn’t clear who would make the next few decisions, but “the Governor” had been mentioned a couple of times by the police.

As they killed time, Murray, Arnie, and Reynard agreed to stick together and not point fingers. Sooley had wanted to attend the festival. He wanted to celebrate and have some serious fun. It was his idea to join forces with Whitley and ask for the jet; his idea to invite the girls; his idea to stop by the last party. At some point the night before, he got some Mollies and took them. No one forced him to. That, for Murray, was still hard to believe. Sooley was not a drug user, Murray said over and over. They had lived together for almost a year and Murray knew him inside and out. The guy did not use drugs! He was proud of his body, his stamina, his talent, and he was determined to become a star.

Murray went along with the plan to deflect blame while not beating up on Sooley, but he knew what was waiting for him at home. He knew that his parents would always feel that he had led Sooley astray. He did not look forward to facing them alone.

Murray called them every other hour. He called the funeral home in Durham. He found a funeral home director in Nassau and hired him. He called the airline to arrange the transfer of the body — $4,000 to ship it out, $2,000 to receive it at home. Arnie was covering all expenses. Murray worked the phones with a purpose and he made calls out of boredom.

Arnie was impressed.

Late Sunday night, the police called to say the autopsy would take place in an expedited manner, at nine o’clock in the morning, in Nassau. In the opinion of the chief detective, the autopsy was not that significant. The cause of death was obvious. He no longer believed foul play was involved, though his investigation would proceed until terminated.

He said, “Looks like the young man had too much fun.”

On Monday afternoon, Arnie and Reynard jetted back to Miami. They offered Murray a ride but he politely said no. He needed to take his friend home.

On Tuesday morning, he left Nassau on a Delta flight, his seat by the window. Somewhere below him in cargo, there was another passenger, his beloved friend, in a coffin. Sooley loved to tell the stories of his trip from Juba to Orlando the summer before, how it was the first flight for every kid on the team, how they had been so excited they couldn’t sleep the night before, how the trip took thirty hours and by the time it was over they were no longer infatuated with air travel.

That was his first flight. This was his last.

Murray began wiping his eyes before takeoff, and he put his sunglasses back on and wept.

Regardless of how tough he acted in front of Arnie, he was blaming himself and he knew he always would. And so would others. And there was nothing he could do to convince himself or anyone else that he had not failed Sooley.

He bit his lip to keep from sobbing, and he had never ached, physically and emotionally, so much in his life.

On Wednesday, Ida and Ernie made the decision to hold the memorial service at The Nest. Central’s President lobbied for this and finally convinced Ida that the school, and especially its students, wanted to pay their respects in a grand way.

Ernie wanted a private ceremony at Sacred Heart Church with a quick burial afterward. At first Ida seemed to lean that way, but Murray agreed with the President because he knew the students wanted to take part in the farewell. Murray was functioning well and taking care of the details. Ida was not.

He posted a statement online announcing the service would be held at 3 p.m. Saturday afternoon at the gym, open to all. A private funeral Mass would be held the following day at the church.

Then he dealt with the press. Would it have access? Could the service be televised? Who would be speaking? Would there be music, and by whom? Murray battled away and had several conversations with Campus Security.

The autopsy report contained no surprises. The illegal drug MDMA, an acronym for its chemical name 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine, and commonly known as Ecstasy or Molly or any one of a dozen other street names, was present in the body. The one pill found in Sooley’s shorts was a tablet containing 120 milligrams of MDMA. At least two and perhaps three were taken in the five hours before death. The lab that made that tablet also added caffeine, ephedrine, and cocaine. His blood alcohol level was.20. The deceased was quite intoxicated. Marijuana was also present in the blood. His body temperature increased to a dangerous level and resulted in total kidney failure, the cause of death.

Arnie’s lawyers in Nassau succeeded in preventing the autopsy report from being released.

The backboards were raised. The court was covered by rows of perfectly matched folding chairs, all filled. The gym was packed — the floor, the movable bleachers, the permanent seats, the aisles. The mourners sat still and somberly as a ladies’ choir sang a soft funeral hymn. When they finished, there was a noise in the rear and a door opened. A priest in a white robe appeared and the casket was behind him. All 4,000 stood and turned to watch the procession. Eight Eagles walked beside the casket, each with one hand on it. Behind, two by two were the rest of the team, then the coaches, led by Lonnie Britt, who held his wife’s hand. Behind the coaches was the family — all of the Walkers, Ida and Ernie first, Murray and Jordan, then Brady.

The procession moved slowly down the center aisle as a string quartet played “Amazing Grace.” They parked Sooley at the foot of a makeshift stage and below a pulpit borrowed from a church. The priest motioned for all to sit and by the time the crowd settled in, women were sobbing. Another mournful hymn from the choir only rattled the emotions even more.

Murray, out of frustration, had finally banned all cameras, except for ESPN. They had agreed to broadcast it live and share footage with other outlets. When Lonnie Britt walked to the podium he knew he was facing a wide audience.

He began with “Sooley. Sooley. By the time you said his name, and saw that smile, you knew that you loved him.” With the composure, cadence, and preparation of a seasoned preacher, he talked about the kid from South Sudan. No one fought to hold back tears, including his coach.

After another hymn, Murray stepped forward to struggle through a eulogy he still could not believe he was being called upon to give. He choked up, battled on, got a few laughs, and finally quit when he was overcome. He returned to his seat beside Ida, who patted his knee and whispered, “Nice job. I love you.”

On big screens, they ran a collage of Sooley bantering with reporters, of him soaring through the air with unforgettable dunks, of him bombing away from mid-court. He never missed, and the crowd managed to cheer and cry at the same time.

Two days after the burial, and with the Walkers still sleepwalking through the aftermath, Murray finally forced himself down to the basement to go through Sooley’s things. His laptop and cell phone were on the ping-pong table, untouched. Murray didn’t have the heart to try and access them, and he didn’t know the passcodes anyway. He didn’t want to know what secrets, if any, they held. He did know that Sooley had been spending more time on social media. After the first-round upset of Duke, back on March 17, Sooley’s fame spread like crazy and he was the talk of the sports world. His Facebook followers went from 20,000 to 400,000 in a matter of days. He posted more photos, chatted with his fans, and shared insights into the tournament. As Central advanced and became the epicenter of March Madness, his numbers skyrocketed. By the time the team traveled to Phoenix for the Final Four, and Sooleymania was raging, over five million fans liked his page. They followed the draft closely and he played to his audience. His shocking death left everyone clamoring for more and the number doubled.