Post by Rob on Sept 8, 2016 13:40:01 GMT -6
Detective Bob Krutz flipped through the file sitting on his desk, trying to wrap his head around the details it contained. Two weeks ago, a woman, married with two children, had been found dead by her nine-year-old daughter, the woman's head inside of the oven. It wasn't the determination of the death being accidental, nor the autopsy report that revealed that the woman had been overcome by a combination of fumes from the cleaning agent and from the model glue that had been stuck on the bottom of the oven, causing her to fall unconscious, her head landing on the bottom of the oven where it literally cooked and stuck to the metal there, half of her face literally coming off when the father had pulled her out to try and resuscitate her. The report detailed all three surviving members' confirmed stories about how the father had placed his son's art project model inside of the oven on low heat to try and hurry the drying of the glue. Some of the glue had run off of the project and stuck to the bottom. The mother, annoyed, had sprayed oven cleaner on the mess and began to try and scrub it off while the rest of the family retired to the living room.
She had evidently left the oven on. Even at the lowest setting of 200 degrees Fahrenheit, it was still more than sufficient to cause evaporation of the glue and cleaner. Apparently, she had been so preoccupied with her annoyance, and the family preoccupied with their last-minute preparations of the project, that she didn't notice the fumes getting stronger and stronger inside the oven, her body bent over at the opening enough to trap sufficient amounts of the toxic air that she passed out within ten minutes of her family leaving her in the kitchen. The fumes weren't what had killed her. It was her face being pressed against a 200+-degree metal plate, her brain cooking to a boil inside of her skull. Though unconscious, she was still alive up to the point that fluids from her brain began to leak out from her ears, nose, and mouth. She wasn't found for three hours, not until her daughter had come into the kitchen for a drink of water. The girl, along with the rest of the family, had assumed that the victim had gone to bed after cleaning the mess, angry at her husband and son for making the mess. It seemed that this was a normal occurrence in the household, one parent or the other sleeping alone in the bed while the other took to the couch. The marriage was on the rocks, it seemed. However, Detective Krutz and the rest of the investigative team had decided that this detail was inconsequential to the death.
No, it was none of these facts and findings that was puzzling the detective. He kept turning back to the psychological reports that detailed how the family was coping. The father, a Mr. Jason Monroe, displayed the typical range of emotions one would expect: anger at himself, anger at his wife, Peggy, for not thinking, despondency when faced with the daunting task of raising their two children by himself, deepening toward a mild depression when thinking of just the amount of loss he had now in his life. He was barely 35, and already a widower. There was also the expected anger toward Deity, fate, whatever name you put on it. The destiny that had been laid on his wife to die after 32 short years of life.
Peggy Monroe's son, Thomas, aged 11, showed a similar range of emotions as his father, anger most definitely there, but less-focused, as if confused as to where to lay the blame. The family, Catholic in religion, was less devout than one might think with that designation. Still, Tommy displayed a vague sense of guilt when the psychologist tried to introduce the thought that perhaps God was to blame. One thing the psychologist noted as potentially damaging to the boy's psyche was the way Tommy seemed to be fixated upon the idea that Satan may have actually killed his mother, and how Tommy had expressed his feeling that Satan had somehow to be "appeased", otherwise the rest of the family would be next.
Bob skimmed through the addendum to the file that detailed how the family had been investigated and cleared over charges of child abuse a year before. It seemed that Tommy had been saying odd and alarming things for quite a while. Then, when the boy came to school with three cuts on his forehead that had been very obviously done with a razor blade, the school took action and filed a complaint to the local DHS office, despite Tommy's objections that he didn't know how it had happened, and that his parents hadn't even spanked him since he was still in kindergarten. The investigators had turned up zero evidence that the children had in any way been physically abused, yet even then there were indications that the only thing holding the family together was the children. Despite this, there seemed to be no ill-will or animosity being held toward the kids by the parents for keeping them stuck with each other. In fact, indications were that the parents were actually sort of grateful, especially the father, as much of the complaints the rest of the family had seemed to be directed at Peggy, with her spreading her feelings of blame more-or-less equally among the other three. They were flagged for monitoring for their dysfunctional tendencies, but were not at an alarming level yet.
"'Alarming level'," snorted the detective when he came to that entry. "This'll sure as hell will send alarms through their system."
As interesting as the reports on Tommy and Jason were, it was the report on nine-year-old Alyssa that puzzled Detective Krutz. Her report stood out among the other two. In it, the psychologist had been surprised to note that Alyssa was strangely calm and accepting of the notion that her mother was not coming home. She even seemed philosophical about the whole thing, stating that she "knew her mother had gone on to her eternal reward", as was worded on the paper. It went on to show that there was not a hint of sadness in the girl. She seemed aware that now there was this emptiness in her life, yet evinced that she was actually joyful that her mother would "now meet God and Jesus before their thrones of judgement" as she'd said. He read and reread the report. Nothing much out of the ordinary, actually, not when you don't throw in the fact that the girl was only nine and showing much more of a self-awareness and being more well-adjusted than the remaining family.
The psychologist had seemed, at first, to be concerned that the girl had just not been processing the death of her mother, refusing to face the reality of the situation, but had come to the conclusion that her emotional age was simply well-advanced for her physical one. He didn't term it as being in any way worrying, but that it was instead fascinating to find in one so young and with as spotty a spiritual upbringing.
When Bob finished reading the file again, he came to a similar conclusion as the psychologists had: the family was already facing a lot of strain, but the tragedy had actually brought them closer together in some ways, the father seemingly more grateful than ever that he had the kids, while the boy was going through a phase in his mental and emotional growth that many boys his age were going through in similar fashion, albeit in larger cities. The daughter, however, was taking on the more emotionally mature role that she sees the mother in the family assuming, seeing her father and brother as being hers to take care of now. He actually admired the girl's maturity in that way of thinking.
He closed the file folder and returned it to a drawer in a nearby cabinet. Picking up his jacket, he headed toward the door, his shift long over. He paused, hand on the light switch, glancing over his shoulder at the cabinet. Doubt and uneasiness vied for space in his eyes for a moment, then he shut the lights off and closed the door behind him, leaving behind his questions for tomorrow.
She had evidently left the oven on. Even at the lowest setting of 200 degrees Fahrenheit, it was still more than sufficient to cause evaporation of the glue and cleaner. Apparently, she had been so preoccupied with her annoyance, and the family preoccupied with their last-minute preparations of the project, that she didn't notice the fumes getting stronger and stronger inside the oven, her body bent over at the opening enough to trap sufficient amounts of the toxic air that she passed out within ten minutes of her family leaving her in the kitchen. The fumes weren't what had killed her. It was her face being pressed against a 200+-degree metal plate, her brain cooking to a boil inside of her skull. Though unconscious, she was still alive up to the point that fluids from her brain began to leak out from her ears, nose, and mouth. She wasn't found for three hours, not until her daughter had come into the kitchen for a drink of water. The girl, along with the rest of the family, had assumed that the victim had gone to bed after cleaning the mess, angry at her husband and son for making the mess. It seemed that this was a normal occurrence in the household, one parent or the other sleeping alone in the bed while the other took to the couch. The marriage was on the rocks, it seemed. However, Detective Krutz and the rest of the investigative team had decided that this detail was inconsequential to the death.
No, it was none of these facts and findings that was puzzling the detective. He kept turning back to the psychological reports that detailed how the family was coping. The father, a Mr. Jason Monroe, displayed the typical range of emotions one would expect: anger at himself, anger at his wife, Peggy, for not thinking, despondency when faced with the daunting task of raising their two children by himself, deepening toward a mild depression when thinking of just the amount of loss he had now in his life. He was barely 35, and already a widower. There was also the expected anger toward Deity, fate, whatever name you put on it. The destiny that had been laid on his wife to die after 32 short years of life.
Peggy Monroe's son, Thomas, aged 11, showed a similar range of emotions as his father, anger most definitely there, but less-focused, as if confused as to where to lay the blame. The family, Catholic in religion, was less devout than one might think with that designation. Still, Tommy displayed a vague sense of guilt when the psychologist tried to introduce the thought that perhaps God was to blame. One thing the psychologist noted as potentially damaging to the boy's psyche was the way Tommy seemed to be fixated upon the idea that Satan may have actually killed his mother, and how Tommy had expressed his feeling that Satan had somehow to be "appeased", otherwise the rest of the family would be next.
Bob skimmed through the addendum to the file that detailed how the family had been investigated and cleared over charges of child abuse a year before. It seemed that Tommy had been saying odd and alarming things for quite a while. Then, when the boy came to school with three cuts on his forehead that had been very obviously done with a razor blade, the school took action and filed a complaint to the local DHS office, despite Tommy's objections that he didn't know how it had happened, and that his parents hadn't even spanked him since he was still in kindergarten. The investigators had turned up zero evidence that the children had in any way been physically abused, yet even then there were indications that the only thing holding the family together was the children. Despite this, there seemed to be no ill-will or animosity being held toward the kids by the parents for keeping them stuck with each other. In fact, indications were that the parents were actually sort of grateful, especially the father, as much of the complaints the rest of the family had seemed to be directed at Peggy, with her spreading her feelings of blame more-or-less equally among the other three. They were flagged for monitoring for their dysfunctional tendencies, but were not at an alarming level yet.
"'Alarming level'," snorted the detective when he came to that entry. "This'll sure as hell will send alarms through their system."
As interesting as the reports on Tommy and Jason were, it was the report on nine-year-old Alyssa that puzzled Detective Krutz. Her report stood out among the other two. In it, the psychologist had been surprised to note that Alyssa was strangely calm and accepting of the notion that her mother was not coming home. She even seemed philosophical about the whole thing, stating that she "knew her mother had gone on to her eternal reward", as was worded on the paper. It went on to show that there was not a hint of sadness in the girl. She seemed aware that now there was this emptiness in her life, yet evinced that she was actually joyful that her mother would "now meet God and Jesus before their thrones of judgement" as she'd said. He read and reread the report. Nothing much out of the ordinary, actually, not when you don't throw in the fact that the girl was only nine and showing much more of a self-awareness and being more well-adjusted than the remaining family.
The psychologist had seemed, at first, to be concerned that the girl had just not been processing the death of her mother, refusing to face the reality of the situation, but had come to the conclusion that her emotional age was simply well-advanced for her physical one. He didn't term it as being in any way worrying, but that it was instead fascinating to find in one so young and with as spotty a spiritual upbringing.
When Bob finished reading the file again, he came to a similar conclusion as the psychologists had: the family was already facing a lot of strain, but the tragedy had actually brought them closer together in some ways, the father seemingly more grateful than ever that he had the kids, while the boy was going through a phase in his mental and emotional growth that many boys his age were going through in similar fashion, albeit in larger cities. The daughter, however, was taking on the more emotionally mature role that she sees the mother in the family assuming, seeing her father and brother as being hers to take care of now. He actually admired the girl's maturity in that way of thinking.
He closed the file folder and returned it to a drawer in a nearby cabinet. Picking up his jacket, he headed toward the door, his shift long over. He paused, hand on the light switch, glancing over his shoulder at the cabinet. Doubt and uneasiness vied for space in his eyes for a moment, then he shut the lights off and closed the door behind him, leaving behind his questions for tomorrow.
