Current mood:	not ok
Entry tags:	blood, death, don

Disturbing words warning
I'm going to put most of this behind a cut. For those who want the really short version: I'm at the Inn my mother runs, we took care of business in Miami and I'm flying back tomorrow night.


I arrived at the airport after my 6:20 AM flight at about noon yesterday. My mother and I climbed into her car and we headed off through Alligator Alley into Miami. For those not aware, Alligator Alley is around 75 miles through the Everglades. Nothing on either side of the highway as far as the eye can see but swamp. It goes clear through the Everglades. Had it been another time I would have been interested. At least until I got bored.

We got lost in the barrios surrounding Miami as I discovered my mother didn't actually know where we were going, just taking one highway that went to Miami. After close to 2 hours of being lost we pulled into the first hotel we found downtown and checked in.

My mother failed to pack anything but toiletries (no clothing) in her confusion, so we set off to find a Target. The internet connection failed to work at the hotel as well, so we needed to find a place to get online since the crematorium was emailing her paperwork. The detective said we'd meet him at the M.E.'s office in the morning and we went off to Target, Kinko's then dinner.

Day 2
We got up a little after 7, had breakfast at the hotel and mom called the Medical Examiner's office from the table at the hotel restaurant. There is nothing a surreal as being asked if you want more coffee while your mother sits across the table and discusses the caliber of bullet that her husband used to kill himself with the Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner.

We called the Detective and drove down to headquarters to meet him. There were no regular conference rooms available, so we used an interrogation room (the Detective called it "the Box"). He asked about the past and the recent conversations, and it turns out he killed himself at some point after he called my mom drunk and angry. The detective let us know that he had killed himself in his truck in a parking lot for the beach, and someone noticed him slumped over in the car and called 911 when they noticed him bleeding. He had put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The ambulance came shortly thereafter and when they found no pulse and a gun, they closed everything off as a crime scene.

We were given what little of his possessions the detective had taken, 2 credit cards and a license, the rest was still in the truck. We were then given directions to the impound lot to pick the truck up.

I will say I am still uncomfortable about what happened. We had to clear off the massage pad that he had on the chair since it was blood-soaked. Despite that there was a puddle of congealed blood on the seat. We covered it with a shirt and I had to drive the truck, sitting in that seat, the 4 hours back to Sanibel Island. I am still not OK with this, but I couldn't very well have my mother driving that. There is Evidence tape all over the truck still.

I'm with her now at the Inn. I'm not sure what else to say.