Tonight, I lost what little innocence I’ve maintained into my late 40s. I took a rescue page for what turned out to be a murder-suicide. Spoilered for good reason, and even then I intend to be a little vague.
[spoiler]VWife and I were watching the boob tube when we heard the first call on the scanner. Someone called the sheriff, saying there was a dead body at an address that was kind of close to the lair. They hung up, and the dispatcher tried to call back for more information, and nobody answered. She sent a deputy.
In the meantime, a neighbor called in to report a gunshot from the residence. The deputy got there, and called for rescue. This was a second duty call and close to home so I went.
When I got to the house, the deputy on scene said there were two people inside, and one was obviously gone, but we needed to pronounce the other. Be careful, because not only was the house a crime scene, but it was also a biohazard.
No kidding. The guy shot himself and I won’t say how, but there was 0 chance he was alive. The woman was on the floor of the bedroom, no pulse, no breathing, and no other sign of life. The EKG confirmed this. She had classic bruises around her neck, and her arms were beat up pretty good, so she put up a fight.
Near as anyone can guess, he strangled her, waited around a bit, called 911 to say she was dead, and then shot himself.
The odd part to all this: on an intellectual level, his wound was probably the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, but it wasn’t even close to oogying me out. “Well well well. He shot himself alright. Glad I don’t have to clean up the mess…” Exactly my reaction to seeing him, and I had a lot more sympathy for her.
So I go to bed tonight a little more jaded. [/spoiler]
Anyone wanna buy me a beer or three?