Elvis exhumedlvis exhume
TIL Following an attempt to steal Elvis Presley's body, the remains of both he and his mother were exhumed and reburied at his former home, Graceland.
2023.07.06 20:02 happytree23 TIL Following an attempt to steal Elvis Presley's body, the remains of both he and his mother were exhumed and reburied at his former home, Graceland.
 | submitted by happytree23 to todayilearned [link] [comments] |
2021.10.15 19:55 Battersea4576 My friends & I wrecked our car in this small town and now they won’t let us leave. [Part 3]
I-II-III-IV
With that, we pulled off our blindfolds and…BAMM!
Fireworks erupted in the air. A kaleidoscope of colors danced over the treetops, illuminating hand painted banners welcoming us. A makeshift stage anchored the setting like a theater in the round. And, as I looked around, taking it in, all I could think was -- Well, at least I’m not dead.
From behind the trees emerged what seemed to be the entire citizenry of Seapointe. They inched towards us with excitement as a string quartet began to play like we were being awarded some kind of medal of honor.
The crowd of forty or so parted to reveal Margaret, ethereally waving us closer. She led Emma, Rachel and I to the stage. As she did, it dawned on me that this felt nothing like a party at all. It was more like a ceremony or an induction. A chill ran through me as I wondered - an induction to what?
Margaret stood tall, taking the stage while the partygoers eagerly waited in front of folding chairs. Her hair blew wildly in the wind as she gestured for us to sit on three pillows arranged at the front of the stage.
We stole glances at one another and hesitantly eased ourselves down to the pillows. Nick appeared, offering us a hot, bitter drink which smelled of tree bark. Glancing to see Rachel and Emma drink without hesitation, I feigned a sip.
Margaret proudly called for ‘the avowals’ to begin, prompting a line to form at the foot of the stage. One by one, each person in attendance gave us a strange, heartfelt affirmation about our arrival. They carried with them a gift wrapped meticulously in fabric. After welcoming us, they set the gifts down on a nearby table.
“Are those all for us?” Emma whispered between greeters. Rachel shrugged, “I hope so.”
“You all know this is totally insane, right?” I shout whispered, growing more anxious by the minute. I tried to focus on my breathing like I had learned in a meditation class, but instead it just sounded like I was hyperventilating.
“Relax, Claire. I saw way crazier shit on my cousin’s commune in Colorado,” Rachel insisted. “It’ll be fine. It’s just gifts. You can always get rid of them- just like I know you’ll get rid of us.” She said, causing me to momentarily swap my panic for anger.
As the receiving line came to an end, the music stopped and Margaret urged everyone to take their seats. She stepped behind the microphone, her voice reverberating through the woods.
“Every few years, fate is kind enough to bring us new arrivals. This time, it was another bountiful gift from our sacred waters.”
Oh, so NOW is the part when they kill us!
“Our sea has long been generous to us, as it has delivered many of you here. And, now we gather together to honor our newest treasures of the ocean- Claire, Rachel and Emma.” The town's residents beamed.
You could hear nothing but the sound of Margaret’s voice and the soft rustling of the leaves. “In my wildest dreams,” Margaret ruminated, “did I ever think we would be lucky to receive souls as precious as these three.”
As I watched Margaret speak, I had a nagging feeling of something familiar. And then it dawned on me - Margaret was wearing the same dress she wore in the newspaper photo from the day she was rescued. What an odd thing to keep and even stranger to wear for a special occasion.
Eyes clenched, she raised her arms, emitting a throaty chant. It was a similar incantation to the one from my aura healing. The guttural sounds repeated and the entire town joined along with her. I have to confess, there was something hypnotic about it all.
The group swayed back and forth in unison. When the chanting reached a crescendo, Margaret emphatically cast her arms down as the last glimpse of orange sun fell behind the treeline. Instantly, torches blazed to life on stage, illuminating the forest in gold.
A small choir stood, their voices rising in a harmonic, operatic boom. The three of us rocked back in perplexed awe as the string quartet began to play once more, fervently joining the choir.
Margaret spoke over the music, commanding the crowd with her pastoral magnetism, “The goodness of this town is truly unfailing.” She motioned to the table of gifts. “And even with this copious display, we still have yet one more consideration for our arrivals,” Margaret declared proudly.
“Rachel, Emma, Claire -would you please accept this final offering as a symbol of the sacred bond now forged between you and the people of Seapointe.”
Nick strode forward carrying an ornate wooden box. Margaret gestured for us to rise. She drew us in closely, bestowing us each a kiss on the head like a benediction. When it was my turn, I could smell the blend of frankincense and sage emanating off her long, knitted coat. I relaxed into her arms. Strange as all of this was, a part of me wanted to trust her so deeply, this woman who welcomed me unapologetically into her home.
Perhaps sensing my unease, Margaret chose to present the final gift to me, as if handing me the antidote to my distress.
I glanced to Rachel and Emma before I slowly opened the box. Inside, beneath a layer of soft lavender cloth, was an old, weathered brass key. I held it up for everyone to see. The inhabitants of Seapointe rejoiced. Overwhelmed by their exuberance, all I could muster was “What is this Margaret?”
“Girls, this is our humblest welcoming to you. A gift of permanence. The key to your very own Seapointe home.” Rachel instantly grabbed the key from me for further inspection.
My stomach dropped, Emma’s eyebrows knitted in confusion and Rachel, mouth agape, for once, didn’t have her next retort in mind.
“A home- For what?” I balked.
Margaret, brimming with excitement, enveloped me with a smile, “Why, to live here, of course.”
Live here? Did they seriously expect us to stay forever?
I scanned the crowd, searching for a hint of this all being a practical joke. But, the crowd was steadfast, some even wept - as if we had just wedded the town itself. What was going on? This wasn't a prank!?!
Seeing that neither Rachel or Emma were prepared to respond, I took a moment to collect myself, knowing one of us had to say something.
My mind raced...
Ok, this is crazy. Run away. Now.
As I faltered for words, the town waited in rapture. Whatever psychotic shit was going on here, there was not a single doubt that these people believed in whatever it was. And, the wrong response could send everything sideways -- very quickly.
Breathe. Appear calm. Pretend like the town of Seapointe is not in fact a batshit crazy cult.
Finally, I found a thread of composure. “Wow!” I said, offering a wan smile. “This is so meaningful. We couldn’t be happier. Thank you for all you have done for us.”
The tension of the moment lifted as Margaret engulfed me in a hug. Wrapped in her arms, I looked Rachel and Emma in the eyes, sharing the stark uncertainty of the moment. The cheers and applause of the crowd washed over us, and we now found ourselves drowning in a whole new set of unknown waters.
***
“Are you crazy? No, we have to get out of here.” I demanded. A day had passed since the welcoming and Rachel, Emma and I went for a walk by the water. We told Margaret we needed “air” to be out of earshot, but it still felt like the whole town was watching us. Even the ocean appeared to be hanging onto our every word.
“Hellllo, we are talking about a free house here!” Rachel begged. “And, besides, everyone in this town loves us. I mean, even you’re popular here Claire.”
What a b#!%&.
“So, what do you think Emma?” Rachel pressed,“You’ll stay, right?” I noticed that Emma had been even more quiet and slouched than usual.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Emma said, unable to look us in the eye. “My dad always says, ‘nothing in life is free’.”
“Seriously, with the quotes, Emma?” Rachel protested, throwing her hands in the air.
“You see, Rachel! Even Emma is ready to break out of here.”
“Well, I didn’t say that exactly.” Emma mumbled, ducking away towards the shoreline.
“Look, Rachel, I don’t know what spell you are under, but I’m telling Margaret I’m leaving. I know we said no hitchhiking, but at this point I’m willing to try anything.”
“C’mon guys,” Rachel begged, “Please don’t go. We can have so much fun here.” Her eyes pleading. I crossed my arms defiantly as Emma stewed.
“You can’t just leave me here. Alone!”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just not staying in a place we were never supposed to be in the first place. You want to become this town’s new shiny object. Go for it. I’m out.”
“Whatever.” Rachel crouched down onto the sand. She crossed her legs and - with the sea as her backdrop - closed her eyes as if to meditate.
“Just leave me then.”
I did. The beach, anyway, leaving behind Rachel and Emma, who remained quietly transfixed on the ocean. As I stormed off, I wondered what I would say to Margaret.
***
It was late. Emma and Rachel had already gone to bed, but light still streamed under Margaret’s door. I padded back and forth outside her room in silence, searching for words, when she called out, “Which bird is that outside my window?”
I poked my head into Margaret’s room, taking in the surroundings. I expected her bedroom to be mystically decorated like the sanctuary, but instead it was surprisingly sparse, save for an elaborate, framed homage to her husband which anchored the main wall.
“Ah, yes. That’s Richard. Wasn’t he divine?” Margaret eased back onto her bed. I noticed two tattered photo albums on her lap - one red, one blue. Clocking my gaze, she pushed away the red album and held up the blue one for me to see, “Look, these photos of you three turned out so well,” she said, showing the pictures of us all dressed up from the welcoming.
I feigned interest, not wanting to lose my focus. I had to break the news to Margaret so, I turned back to study her collection of memories on the wall, “You must miss him. I’m so sorry,” hoping empathy might soften the blow.
“Thank you, I do. Especially on nights like this. He would have just thought the world of you girls.”
I smiled uncomfortably. Perhaps detecting my unease, Margaret shook her head. “Listen to me prattle. After all, it’s been so many years since we lost Richard to the land.”
The land? Sometimes it was hard to tell if Margaret was talking in code or just crazy.
“You know, we had an argument the night of his accident. I tried to stop him but he insisted on leaving. He always did believe he was invincible.”
Having difficulty following her ramblings, I checked her nightstand for medications. “I hope you don’t blame yourself for what happened to him.”
“Please dear, there is nothing in blame but self-punishment. I always aim for my station to be one of gratitude.” She said, squeezing the photo album tightly to her chest.
“Well, we are so very grateful to you and your family, for everything you have done for us.”
“Oh please, don’t be silly. You girls are the piece that’s been missing from us for far too long.” Margaret reached her hand out to clasp mine, squeezing it tightly. She patted the bed. Reluctantly, I took a seat beside her, looking straight ahead. Oh boy. Here we go...
“It’s really meant so much- spending time here, but it’s just that,” I paused, imagining the full force of Margaret’s rage unleashing on me. “I’ve decided to leave.”
Margaret stiffened. I waited for her to respond. But, no words came. “Margaret? Did you hear what I said? I’m going tomorrow.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, defeated. She rose to rearrange the pillows behind her.
“Yes, I really do need to get back home,” I said apologetically.
“But, won’t you at least wait for your things, your father’s precious watch?”
“I can’t,” I said, backing away from her, stung that she would use my father as ammunition.
Margaret’s organizing of the pillows grew manic. It now included the blankets. “But, there is so much more of Seapointe I need to teach you!” She reached for my hand, and I awkwardly withdrew it.
“I’m leaving, Margaret.”
Creating distance between us, I could now see tears sliding down her face. She made no effort to wipe them away. Margaret began rocking back and forth, mumbling softly, “No, no, not again. Not this time.”
“Margaret?” She wasn't acknowledging me, but only staring forward, stammering, “They never stay.”
My hand now hovered over her shoulder, hesitating to offer her comfort. “Margaret, it’ll be ok. We can come back and visit, I promise.”
“Noooooo!!!!!” She grabbed me tightly, eyes ablaze, she shrieked, “You can’t go! It isn’t safe! You’ll end up just like Richard!”
I tried to break free from her grasp when Tom flew into the room. He gently pried Margaret’s fingers from my shoulders and settled her down to the bed. “Ssshhh, mom, sshh, it’s ok.”
Tom’s eyes bore into mine. Taking me by my hand, he pulled me out of the room. My hand burned where he clenched me, still stung by our last encounter.
Now, back in the hallway, I stopped short, unwilling to be pulled - by anyone - anymore.
“What is going on? Is she ok?”
“I don’t know. What exactly happened in there?”
“We were just talking and then she lost it.” I looked back to see Margaret still distraught, smudged mascara staining her pillow black.
“So you have no idea what set her off?”
“I told her I was going. That’s all.”
“Going, as in leaving?
“Yes?”
Tom inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as if containing fury. Fury for what?
“Please... don’t do that.” His voice was brittle, like he could snap at any moment.
“Do what? Leave?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand? Yesterday, you pushed me away and now you are asking me to stay!”
“I just don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
“Is that some kind of threat?” Any shred of excitement Tom had given me was now replaced by absolute fear.
“That’s seriously what you think of me?” He knocked his fist lightly against the wall in frustration. “That I want to hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to think of any of this. Nothing in this house, in this town, is close to normal. All I know is that I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Tom squeezed his hands together, clearly holding something back, until the words fell out of his mouth, as if against his will. “It’s not safe.”
“Why?” I resisted. “Your mom said the same thing. Is this about your dad or that girl who died in the woods? Is that it? Because I’m truly sorry for your loss but as far as I can tell, their deaths have nothing to do with me leaving… Does it?”
Tom remained silent, like a dam desperately holding back a lifetime of secrets.
“Ok, then, if you’ve got nothing left to say, I’d like to go to my room now. Or, is that not safe either?”
Reluctantly, Tom moved aside and I stormed up the stairs. I found the girls already asleep, oblivious to the events below. I wondered if I should wake them, but I could predict their dismissive reactions.
Instead, I lay awake obsessing about how or- fucking hell- if I would be able to get home.
******
When I woke, the first thing I felt was the cold. My eyes seared from the chilling ocean waters crushing me once again. How did I get here? I tried to fight my way to the surface, but the vegetation twisted at my ankles, keeping me in place. I was running out of air and the faint sunlight flickering down from the surface was too far to reach.
I kicked wildly and finally the branches loosened. I catapulted towards the surface, desperate to take a breath. Suddenly, a lifeless body floated up beside me. Who was it? Rachel? The body rotated in the water, turning just enough so that I could see a face I recognized. It was the girl from the picture in the woods. A deafened moan escaped from her mouth, without any further signs of life.
I pushed away, when more bodies began to rise, surrounding me on all sides. Their mouths opened, somehow uttering the chant - Margaret’s chant - in a horrifying underwater chorus. My heart pounded, unable to hold my breath any longer. I inhaled - surrendering to the water - once and for all. I plunged deeper and then...
I bolted upright, gasping for air in my attic bed. It was just a dream.
Trying to calm myself, I laid back down. If ever there was a sign that this place was tearing at my sanity, it was this head trip of a nightmare. Determined to leave, I urged myself back to sleep. I knew I needed rest to be ready for whatever awaited me tomorrow.
***
“It’s tiiiiiiiiime!!” My eyes snapped open to find Nick hovering over me. He stood behind my bed, causing him to appear upside down. His usual shit eating grin now inverted like a demonic frown.
I catapulted away from him, as far as my bed would allow. “Nick! What are you doing?” Realizing the skies were still black, I squeezed my eyes to see the clock. “It’s 6am.”
“Claire! Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for.”
“What are you talking about??” I said wanting to rip the sheepish grin off of his dumb face. I looked to see that both Rachel and Emma’s bed were empty. “Where are the girls?”
As if choreographed, Rachel entered, toweling dry her hair. “Claire, why are you still in bed? They’re about to start the dive.”
“The dive?”
Nick happily joined in, “Yes, silly, to get your stuff out of the water. Mom had Joe call the divers last night and tell them they better get there B-U-T-T-S down here A - S - A - P. But seeing how quick they came I bet it was more like A - S - A - F - P.” He made a flourishing wave with an imaginary wand, accentuating each letter. “Somebody woke up the dragon!” He mock shivered in fear.
I heard the beeps of a reversing truck and hurried to the window. A massive crane maneuvered over the pier.
Nick peered out with anticipation, “Now, this is exciting. I’m going to get a good spot before it gets too crowded.” Nick shot out of the room like a dime store firecracker.
As I turned back from the window, I could see Emma’s empty bed was already made.
“Rachel, where is Emma?”
“You seem to be the expert on everything, why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m serious, Rachel. You have no idea how badly Margaret and Tom freaked out on me last night. Where is she?”
“So dramatic.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where Emma is. I’m sure she’ll catch up with us.” Rachel finished dressing in the mirror. “Ugh, I can not wait to have my wardrobe back.”
With zero desire to be dredging up my past - literally, I readied myself for the pier. I had planned on leaving everything behind -- Rachel, this town, my stuff, all of it at once. Nothing from my old life, except maybe my dad’s watch, felt like it fit anymore.
Reluctantly, I threw on a loaner sweatshirt, hopefully for the last time. As I went through the door, I took one last look at Emma’s bed. I’m sure she’s already down at the pier.
As Rachel and I exited the house, it appeared the entire town of Seapointe was heading towards the pier. They moved slowly and uniformly as though they were in a funeral procession.
Crossing the asphalt from the house to the port, I considered the losses: the car, a future plan, the friendships, my college self. It felt surprisingly freeing.
Shouts directing the crane rang past us as we moved to the pier’s edge. People respectfully made room for Rachel and I to pass, as if we were the family members of the body being exhumed. I couldn’t help but wonder exactly why everyone was so excited to see a bunch of teenagers’ water ravaged crap.
I spotted a chipper Deborah and a sleepy-eyed Lindsay, while an over eager Nick, scarf blowing in the wind, had climbed on top of the crane for a front row seat. Margaret stood steadfastly beside Joe who supervised the whole spectacle. To my surprise, even Tom showed. He sat on the far side of the pier, smoking a cigarette, characteristically distant. And, despite all the familiar faces, Emma was still nowhere to be found.
Rachel and I watched as two moveable cranes, perched atop towering four-foot wheels, readied to lift. A scuba diver attached ropes to the cranes and dove into the water. We all leaned forward, trying to watch him affix them to the car 30 feet below.
A silent tension descended upon the crowd as the car’s teal frame began to emerge -- water sliding off its surface like a baptism in reverse. But when the car finally reappeared, rather than feeling reborn, I felt complete emptiness. I couldn’t bear to imagine what my life ahead would now hold.
The scuba diver rose from the water and, one by one, he revealed a smattering of our belongings recovered from the seafloor. Clothes, bags, boots, jackets, backpacks, tents, Emma’s Phish tapes, my old journal, all intertwined with seaweed.
Bobbing at the surface, he placed our things on the pier like a pathetic, waterlogged, yard sale. The residents tilted their heads, studying every inch of our personal effects. This whole showcase felt unnervingly invasive as though the entire commonwealth of Seapointe was collectively looking up our skirts.
Every minute or so, the scuba diver would appear from the water with what felt like a new page in our personal diary. Only on his next return, he emerged holding empty brown beer bottles high above his head.
Beer bottles? A murmur came over the crowd. Rachel gasped. I stood silently, jaw dropped, gaping in horror. What was this?
As the diver handed off the bottles to Joe, the onlookers grew more animated. My skin crawled with a shame that we did not deserve. In an instant, we went from victims of a near-fatal, preventable (!) accident, to reckless college students out for a bender.
Joe studied the beer bottles, placing them along with some other items into plastic bags -- for evidence? His dark glasses masking his demeanor. What the actual fuck? Seriously? None of us were drinking. We didn’t even have fake IDs.
Rachel fled to a now stoic Margaret, pleading, “I promise, Margaret, we weren’t drinking. I don’t know where they found those bottles.”
“It’s in Joe’s hands, now. I’m sure he will make it right,” Margaret deflected solemnly. “Stay put so I can fetch a wagon for your belongings.”
The crowd remained full but I had never felt more isolated. I flicked my eyes to Joe, inadvertently making eye contact with him. I looked away to the far side of the pier. Of course, Tom was already gone. When I glimpsed back over to Joe, he was in full stride, heading right towards us. The throngs closed in tighter around us, I guess this is what they were staying for -- the grand finale.
“Where’s number three? Joe asked.
“Who?” Rachel piped back.
“Your friend.”
“Oh, we’re not sure, actually.” Rachel answered, looking to me to back her up, but I was finding it difficult to speak.
“Well, you better find her and tell her the three of you are not to go anywhere until I finish my investigation.”
“But, those aren’t ours!” Rachel protested.
“You’ve got a court date in ten days. We can hash it all out there.” Joe was leaving us no room for negotiation.
“Ten days...for what?”
Joe eyed a beer bottle, but then held up a plastic bag filled with multicolored squares with faded pink smiley faces, and I suddenly felt faint. It was acid. Emma had brought her illegal cargo - Elvis - on the road.
“You girls drug dealers or do you just use illicit schedule 1 substances like LSD recreationally?”
And there it is. Wow. Getting framed for a DUI and cast as a teenage drug cartel was not the obstacle I was expecting this morning.
“This is insane.” I cried out, breaking my silence. “I want a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” He let out a laugh, wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead, “I’m going easy on you. If I had my way, you’d be waiting in my jail cell until the hearing. You’re lucky Margaret thinks so highly of you. She’s persuaded me to release you into her custodianship.”
Of course, they already worked it out!
Joe studied our faces. “And, I know what you’re thinking in those pretty little heads, so let me just say it here -- don’t do it. Don’t even think about running. If you do, there will be dire consequences.”
Joe glared fixedly at us before he turned to the gathered crowd. “Alright then, show’s over. You all are trampling on my crime scene. Get back about your day.”
Margaret strode forward with an old Radio Flyer wagon. “Enough talk about jail and punishments, Joe. No need to rub their noses in it.” Her voice was recalibrated back to its sing-song certainty, her power restored.
“You girls will stay tucked at home with me and the boys until we get this all straightened out.” With no interest in a response, Margaret loaded our drenched possessions onto the wagon as if she was packing us up after a rained out day at the beach.
“Claire, I almost forgot. Look what turned up,” Margaret said as she placed my father’s now rusting watch into my palm. “Remember now Claire- the things that are meant to survive will.”
I held my father’s watch tightly, taking it all in. Now, the only question is, was I one of those things that was meant to survive?
--
(End Part 3)
I-II-III-IV
submitted by Battersea4576 to u/Battersea4576 [link] [comments]
With that, we pulled off our blindfolds and…BAMM!
Fireworks erupted in the air. A kaleidoscope of colors danced over the treetops, illuminating hand painted banners welcoming us. A makeshift stage anchored the setting like a theater in the round. And, as I looked around, taking it in, all I could think was -- Well, at least I’m not dead.
From behind the trees emerged what seemed to be the entire citizenry of Seapointe. They inched towards us with excitement as a string quartet began to play like we were being awarded some kind of medal of honor.
The crowd of forty or so parted to reveal Margaret, ethereally waving us closer. She led Emma, Rachel and I to the stage. As she did, it dawned on me that this felt nothing like a party at all. It was more like a ceremony or an induction. A chill ran through me as I wondered - an induction to what?
Margaret stood tall, taking the stage while the partygoers eagerly waited in front of folding chairs. Her hair blew wildly in the wind as she gestured for us to sit on three pillows arranged at the front of the stage.
We stole glances at one another and hesitantly eased ourselves down to the pillows. Nick appeared, offering us a hot, bitter drink which smelled of tree bark. Glancing to see Rachel and Emma drink without hesitation, I feigned a sip.
Margaret proudly called for ‘the avowals’ to begin, prompting a line to form at the foot of the stage. One by one, each person in attendance gave us a strange, heartfelt affirmation about our arrival. They carried with them a gift wrapped meticulously in fabric. After welcoming us, they set the gifts down on a nearby table.
“Are those all for us?” Emma whispered between greeters. Rachel shrugged, “I hope so.”
“You all know this is totally insane, right?” I shout whispered, growing more anxious by the minute. I tried to focus on my breathing like I had learned in a meditation class, but instead it just sounded like I was hyperventilating.
“Relax, Claire. I saw way crazier shit on my cousin’s commune in Colorado,” Rachel insisted. “It’ll be fine. It’s just gifts. You can always get rid of them- just like I know you’ll get rid of us.” She said, causing me to momentarily swap my panic for anger.
As the receiving line came to an end, the music stopped and Margaret urged everyone to take their seats. She stepped behind the microphone, her voice reverberating through the woods.
“Every few years, fate is kind enough to bring us new arrivals. This time, it was another bountiful gift from our sacred waters.”
Oh, so NOW is the part when they kill us!
“Our sea has long been generous to us, as it has delivered many of you here. And, now we gather together to honor our newest treasures of the ocean- Claire, Rachel and Emma.” The town's residents beamed.
You could hear nothing but the sound of Margaret’s voice and the soft rustling of the leaves. “In my wildest dreams,” Margaret ruminated, “did I ever think we would be lucky to receive souls as precious as these three.”
As I watched Margaret speak, I had a nagging feeling of something familiar. And then it dawned on me - Margaret was wearing the same dress she wore in the newspaper photo from the day she was rescued. What an odd thing to keep and even stranger to wear for a special occasion.
Eyes clenched, she raised her arms, emitting a throaty chant. It was a similar incantation to the one from my aura healing. The guttural sounds repeated and the entire town joined along with her. I have to confess, there was something hypnotic about it all.
The group swayed back and forth in unison. When the chanting reached a crescendo, Margaret emphatically cast her arms down as the last glimpse of orange sun fell behind the treeline. Instantly, torches blazed to life on stage, illuminating the forest in gold.
A small choir stood, their voices rising in a harmonic, operatic boom. The three of us rocked back in perplexed awe as the string quartet began to play once more, fervently joining the choir.
Margaret spoke over the music, commanding the crowd with her pastoral magnetism, “The goodness of this town is truly unfailing.” She motioned to the table of gifts. “And even with this copious display, we still have yet one more consideration for our arrivals,” Margaret declared proudly.
“Rachel, Emma, Claire -would you please accept this final offering as a symbol of the sacred bond now forged between you and the people of Seapointe.”
Nick strode forward carrying an ornate wooden box. Margaret gestured for us to rise. She drew us in closely, bestowing us each a kiss on the head like a benediction. When it was my turn, I could smell the blend of frankincense and sage emanating off her long, knitted coat. I relaxed into her arms. Strange as all of this was, a part of me wanted to trust her so deeply, this woman who welcomed me unapologetically into her home.
Perhaps sensing my unease, Margaret chose to present the final gift to me, as if handing me the antidote to my distress.
I glanced to Rachel and Emma before I slowly opened the box. Inside, beneath a layer of soft lavender cloth, was an old, weathered brass key. I held it up for everyone to see. The inhabitants of Seapointe rejoiced. Overwhelmed by their exuberance, all I could muster was “What is this Margaret?”
“Girls, this is our humblest welcoming to you. A gift of permanence. The key to your very own Seapointe home.” Rachel instantly grabbed the key from me for further inspection.
My stomach dropped, Emma’s eyebrows knitted in confusion and Rachel, mouth agape, for once, didn’t have her next retort in mind.
“A home- For what?” I balked.
Margaret, brimming with excitement, enveloped me with a smile, “Why, to live here, of course.”
Live here? Did they seriously expect us to stay forever?
I scanned the crowd, searching for a hint of this all being a practical joke. But, the crowd was steadfast, some even wept - as if we had just wedded the town itself. What was going on? This wasn't a prank!?!
Seeing that neither Rachel or Emma were prepared to respond, I took a moment to collect myself, knowing one of us had to say something.
My mind raced...
Ok, this is crazy. Run away. Now.
As I faltered for words, the town waited in rapture. Whatever psychotic shit was going on here, there was not a single doubt that these people believed in whatever it was. And, the wrong response could send everything sideways -- very quickly.
Breathe. Appear calm. Pretend like the town of Seapointe is not in fact a batshit crazy cult.
Finally, I found a thread of composure. “Wow!” I said, offering a wan smile. “This is so meaningful. We couldn’t be happier. Thank you for all you have done for us.”
The tension of the moment lifted as Margaret engulfed me in a hug. Wrapped in her arms, I looked Rachel and Emma in the eyes, sharing the stark uncertainty of the moment. The cheers and applause of the crowd washed over us, and we now found ourselves drowning in a whole new set of unknown waters.
***
“Are you crazy? No, we have to get out of here.” I demanded. A day had passed since the welcoming and Rachel, Emma and I went for a walk by the water. We told Margaret we needed “air” to be out of earshot, but it still felt like the whole town was watching us. Even the ocean appeared to be hanging onto our every word.
“Hellllo, we are talking about a free house here!” Rachel begged. “And, besides, everyone in this town loves us. I mean, even you’re popular here Claire.”
What a b#!%&.
“So, what do you think Emma?” Rachel pressed,“You’ll stay, right?” I noticed that Emma had been even more quiet and slouched than usual.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Emma said, unable to look us in the eye. “My dad always says, ‘nothing in life is free’.”
“Seriously, with the quotes, Emma?” Rachel protested, throwing her hands in the air.
“You see, Rachel! Even Emma is ready to break out of here.”
“Well, I didn’t say that exactly.” Emma mumbled, ducking away towards the shoreline.
“Look, Rachel, I don’t know what spell you are under, but I’m telling Margaret I’m leaving. I know we said no hitchhiking, but at this point I’m willing to try anything.”
“C’mon guys,” Rachel begged, “Please don’t go. We can have so much fun here.” Her eyes pleading. I crossed my arms defiantly as Emma stewed.
“You can’t just leave me here. Alone!”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just not staying in a place we were never supposed to be in the first place. You want to become this town’s new shiny object. Go for it. I’m out.”
“Whatever.” Rachel crouched down onto the sand. She crossed her legs and - with the sea as her backdrop - closed her eyes as if to meditate.
“Just leave me then.”
I did. The beach, anyway, leaving behind Rachel and Emma, who remained quietly transfixed on the ocean. As I stormed off, I wondered what I would say to Margaret.
***
It was late. Emma and Rachel had already gone to bed, but light still streamed under Margaret’s door. I padded back and forth outside her room in silence, searching for words, when she called out, “Which bird is that outside my window?”
I poked my head into Margaret’s room, taking in the surroundings. I expected her bedroom to be mystically decorated like the sanctuary, but instead it was surprisingly sparse, save for an elaborate, framed homage to her husband which anchored the main wall.
“Ah, yes. That’s Richard. Wasn’t he divine?” Margaret eased back onto her bed. I noticed two tattered photo albums on her lap - one red, one blue. Clocking my gaze, she pushed away the red album and held up the blue one for me to see, “Look, these photos of you three turned out so well,” she said, showing the pictures of us all dressed up from the welcoming.
I feigned interest, not wanting to lose my focus. I had to break the news to Margaret so, I turned back to study her collection of memories on the wall, “You must miss him. I’m so sorry,” hoping empathy might soften the blow.
“Thank you, I do. Especially on nights like this. He would have just thought the world of you girls.”
I smiled uncomfortably. Perhaps detecting my unease, Margaret shook her head. “Listen to me prattle. After all, it’s been so many years since we lost Richard to the land.”
The land? Sometimes it was hard to tell if Margaret was talking in code or just crazy.
“You know, we had an argument the night of his accident. I tried to stop him but he insisted on leaving. He always did believe he was invincible.”
Having difficulty following her ramblings, I checked her nightstand for medications. “I hope you don’t blame yourself for what happened to him.”
“Please dear, there is nothing in blame but self-punishment. I always aim for my station to be one of gratitude.” She said, squeezing the photo album tightly to her chest.
“Well, we are so very grateful to you and your family, for everything you have done for us.”
“Oh please, don’t be silly. You girls are the piece that’s been missing from us for far too long.” Margaret reached her hand out to clasp mine, squeezing it tightly. She patted the bed. Reluctantly, I took a seat beside her, looking straight ahead. Oh boy. Here we go...
“It’s really meant so much- spending time here, but it’s just that,” I paused, imagining the full force of Margaret’s rage unleashing on me. “I’ve decided to leave.”
Margaret stiffened. I waited for her to respond. But, no words came. “Margaret? Did you hear what I said? I’m going tomorrow.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, defeated. She rose to rearrange the pillows behind her.
“Yes, I really do need to get back home,” I said apologetically.
“But, won’t you at least wait for your things, your father’s precious watch?”
“I can’t,” I said, backing away from her, stung that she would use my father as ammunition.
Margaret’s organizing of the pillows grew manic. It now included the blankets. “But, there is so much more of Seapointe I need to teach you!” She reached for my hand, and I awkwardly withdrew it.
“I’m leaving, Margaret.”
Creating distance between us, I could now see tears sliding down her face. She made no effort to wipe them away. Margaret began rocking back and forth, mumbling softly, “No, no, not again. Not this time.”
“Margaret?” She wasn't acknowledging me, but only staring forward, stammering, “They never stay.”
My hand now hovered over her shoulder, hesitating to offer her comfort. “Margaret, it’ll be ok. We can come back and visit, I promise.”
“Noooooo!!!!!” She grabbed me tightly, eyes ablaze, she shrieked, “You can’t go! It isn’t safe! You’ll end up just like Richard!”
I tried to break free from her grasp when Tom flew into the room. He gently pried Margaret’s fingers from my shoulders and settled her down to the bed. “Ssshhh, mom, sshh, it’s ok.”
Tom’s eyes bore into mine. Taking me by my hand, he pulled me out of the room. My hand burned where he clenched me, still stung by our last encounter.
Now, back in the hallway, I stopped short, unwilling to be pulled - by anyone - anymore.
“What is going on? Is she ok?”
“I don’t know. What exactly happened in there?”
“We were just talking and then she lost it.” I looked back to see Margaret still distraught, smudged mascara staining her pillow black.
“So you have no idea what set her off?”
“I told her I was going. That’s all.”
“Going, as in leaving?
“Yes?”
Tom inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes as if containing fury. Fury for what?
“Please... don’t do that.” His voice was brittle, like he could snap at any moment.
“Do what? Leave?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand? Yesterday, you pushed me away and now you are asking me to stay!”
“I just don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
“Is that some kind of threat?” Any shred of excitement Tom had given me was now replaced by absolute fear.
“That’s seriously what you think of me?” He knocked his fist lightly against the wall in frustration. “That I want to hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to think of any of this. Nothing in this house, in this town, is close to normal. All I know is that I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Tom squeezed his hands together, clearly holding something back, until the words fell out of his mouth, as if against his will. “It’s not safe.”
“Why?” I resisted. “Your mom said the same thing. Is this about your dad or that girl who died in the woods? Is that it? Because I’m truly sorry for your loss but as far as I can tell, their deaths have nothing to do with me leaving… Does it?”
Tom remained silent, like a dam desperately holding back a lifetime of secrets.
“Ok, then, if you’ve got nothing left to say, I’d like to go to my room now. Or, is that not safe either?”
Reluctantly, Tom moved aside and I stormed up the stairs. I found the girls already asleep, oblivious to the events below. I wondered if I should wake them, but I could predict their dismissive reactions.
Instead, I lay awake obsessing about how or- fucking hell- if I would be able to get home.
******
When I woke, the first thing I felt was the cold. My eyes seared from the chilling ocean waters crushing me once again. How did I get here? I tried to fight my way to the surface, but the vegetation twisted at my ankles, keeping me in place. I was running out of air and the faint sunlight flickering down from the surface was too far to reach.
I kicked wildly and finally the branches loosened. I catapulted towards the surface, desperate to take a breath. Suddenly, a lifeless body floated up beside me. Who was it? Rachel? The body rotated in the water, turning just enough so that I could see a face I recognized. It was the girl from the picture in the woods. A deafened moan escaped from her mouth, without any further signs of life.
I pushed away, when more bodies began to rise, surrounding me on all sides. Their mouths opened, somehow uttering the chant - Margaret’s chant - in a horrifying underwater chorus. My heart pounded, unable to hold my breath any longer. I inhaled - surrendering to the water - once and for all. I plunged deeper and then...
I bolted upright, gasping for air in my attic bed. It was just a dream.
Trying to calm myself, I laid back down. If ever there was a sign that this place was tearing at my sanity, it was this head trip of a nightmare. Determined to leave, I urged myself back to sleep. I knew I needed rest to be ready for whatever awaited me tomorrow.
***
“It’s tiiiiiiiiime!!” My eyes snapped open to find Nick hovering over me. He stood behind my bed, causing him to appear upside down. His usual shit eating grin now inverted like a demonic frown.
I catapulted away from him, as far as my bed would allow. “Nick! What are you doing?” Realizing the skies were still black, I squeezed my eyes to see the clock. “It’s 6am.”
“Claire! Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for.”
“What are you talking about??” I said wanting to rip the sheepish grin off of his dumb face. I looked to see that both Rachel and Emma’s bed were empty. “Where are the girls?”
As if choreographed, Rachel entered, toweling dry her hair. “Claire, why are you still in bed? They’re about to start the dive.”
“The dive?”
Nick happily joined in, “Yes, silly, to get your stuff out of the water. Mom had Joe call the divers last night and tell them they better get there B-U-T-T-S down here A - S - A - P. But seeing how quick they came I bet it was more like A - S - A - F - P.” He made a flourishing wave with an imaginary wand, accentuating each letter. “Somebody woke up the dragon!” He mock shivered in fear.
I heard the beeps of a reversing truck and hurried to the window. A massive crane maneuvered over the pier.
Nick peered out with anticipation, “Now, this is exciting. I’m going to get a good spot before it gets too crowded.” Nick shot out of the room like a dime store firecracker.
As I turned back from the window, I could see Emma’s empty bed was already made.
“Rachel, where is Emma?”
“You seem to be the expert on everything, why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m serious, Rachel. You have no idea how badly Margaret and Tom freaked out on me last night. Where is she?”
“So dramatic.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where Emma is. I’m sure she’ll catch up with us.” Rachel finished dressing in the mirror. “Ugh, I can not wait to have my wardrobe back.”
With zero desire to be dredging up my past - literally, I readied myself for the pier. I had planned on leaving everything behind -- Rachel, this town, my stuff, all of it at once. Nothing from my old life, except maybe my dad’s watch, felt like it fit anymore.
Reluctantly, I threw on a loaner sweatshirt, hopefully for the last time. As I went through the door, I took one last look at Emma’s bed. I’m sure she’s already down at the pier.
As Rachel and I exited the house, it appeared the entire town of Seapointe was heading towards the pier. They moved slowly and uniformly as though they were in a funeral procession.
Crossing the asphalt from the house to the port, I considered the losses: the car, a future plan, the friendships, my college self. It felt surprisingly freeing.
Shouts directing the crane rang past us as we moved to the pier’s edge. People respectfully made room for Rachel and I to pass, as if we were the family members of the body being exhumed. I couldn’t help but wonder exactly why everyone was so excited to see a bunch of teenagers’ water ravaged crap.
I spotted a chipper Deborah and a sleepy-eyed Lindsay, while an over eager Nick, scarf blowing in the wind, had climbed on top of the crane for a front row seat. Margaret stood steadfastly beside Joe who supervised the whole spectacle. To my surprise, even Tom showed. He sat on the far side of the pier, smoking a cigarette, characteristically distant. And, despite all the familiar faces, Emma was still nowhere to be found.
Rachel and I watched as two moveable cranes, perched atop towering four-foot wheels, readied to lift. A scuba diver attached ropes to the cranes and dove into the water. We all leaned forward, trying to watch him affix them to the car 30 feet below.
A silent tension descended upon the crowd as the car’s teal frame began to emerge -- water sliding off its surface like a baptism in reverse. But when the car finally reappeared, rather than feeling reborn, I felt complete emptiness. I couldn’t bear to imagine what my life ahead would now hold.
The scuba diver rose from the water and, one by one, he revealed a smattering of our belongings recovered from the seafloor. Clothes, bags, boots, jackets, backpacks, tents, Emma’s Phish tapes, my old journal, all intertwined with seaweed.
Bobbing at the surface, he placed our things on the pier like a pathetic, waterlogged, yard sale. The residents tilted their heads, studying every inch of our personal effects. This whole showcase felt unnervingly invasive as though the entire commonwealth of Seapointe was collectively looking up our skirts.
Every minute or so, the scuba diver would appear from the water with what felt like a new page in our personal diary. Only on his next return, he emerged holding empty brown beer bottles high above his head.
Beer bottles? A murmur came over the crowd. Rachel gasped. I stood silently, jaw dropped, gaping in horror. What was this?
As the diver handed off the bottles to Joe, the onlookers grew more animated. My skin crawled with a shame that we did not deserve. In an instant, we went from victims of a near-fatal, preventable (!) accident, to reckless college students out for a bender.
Joe studied the beer bottles, placing them along with some other items into plastic bags -- for evidence? His dark glasses masking his demeanor. What the actual fuck? Seriously? None of us were drinking. We didn’t even have fake IDs.
Rachel fled to a now stoic Margaret, pleading, “I promise, Margaret, we weren’t drinking. I don’t know where they found those bottles.”
“It’s in Joe’s hands, now. I’m sure he will make it right,” Margaret deflected solemnly. “Stay put so I can fetch a wagon for your belongings.”
The crowd remained full but I had never felt more isolated. I flicked my eyes to Joe, inadvertently making eye contact with him. I looked away to the far side of the pier. Of course, Tom was already gone. When I glimpsed back over to Joe, he was in full stride, heading right towards us. The throngs closed in tighter around us, I guess this is what they were staying for -- the grand finale.
“Where’s number three? Joe asked.
“Who?” Rachel piped back.
“Your friend.”
“Oh, we’re not sure, actually.” Rachel answered, looking to me to back her up, but I was finding it difficult to speak.
“Well, you better find her and tell her the three of you are not to go anywhere until I finish my investigation.”
“But, those aren’t ours!” Rachel protested.
“You’ve got a court date in ten days. We can hash it all out there.” Joe was leaving us no room for negotiation.
“Ten days...for what?”
Joe eyed a beer bottle, but then held up a plastic bag filled with multicolored squares with faded pink smiley faces, and I suddenly felt faint. It was acid. Emma had brought her illegal cargo - Elvis - on the road.
“You girls drug dealers or do you just use illicit schedule 1 substances like LSD recreationally?”
And there it is. Wow. Getting framed for a DUI and cast as a teenage drug cartel was not the obstacle I was expecting this morning.
“This is insane.” I cried out, breaking my silence. “I want a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” He let out a laugh, wiping away the beads of sweat from his forehead, “I’m going easy on you. If I had my way, you’d be waiting in my jail cell until the hearing. You’re lucky Margaret thinks so highly of you. She’s persuaded me to release you into her custodianship.”
Of course, they already worked it out!
Joe studied our faces. “And, I know what you’re thinking in those pretty little heads, so let me just say it here -- don’t do it. Don’t even think about running. If you do, there will be dire consequences.”
Joe glared fixedly at us before he turned to the gathered crowd. “Alright then, show’s over. You all are trampling on my crime scene. Get back about your day.”
Margaret strode forward with an old Radio Flyer wagon. “Enough talk about jail and punishments, Joe. No need to rub their noses in it.” Her voice was recalibrated back to its sing-song certainty, her power restored.
“You girls will stay tucked at home with me and the boys until we get this all straightened out.” With no interest in a response, Margaret loaded our drenched possessions onto the wagon as if she was packing us up after a rained out day at the beach.
“Claire, I almost forgot. Look what turned up,” Margaret said as she placed my father’s now rusting watch into my palm. “Remember now Claire- the things that are meant to survive will.”
I held my father’s watch tightly, taking it all in. Now, the only question is, was I one of those things that was meant to survive?
--
(End Part 3)
I-II-III-IV
2021.05.11 21:45 Leading_Lock Carmela, Queen of Denial
Carmela was excellent at ignoring inconvenient truths. One I was reminded of while re-watching this week involved Tony and Paulie's trip to Elvis Country while the Feds were exhuming Willie Overall's bones. As Tony is bustling about getting packed and ready to leave, an exasperated Carmela says something to the effect of: "Still? After all this time?"
C'mon Carmela. Did you expect that the higher Tony rose in the ranks, and the more criminal schemes he was involved in and oversaw, and the more bodies that piled up, LE was going to focus less on him? That's like assuming that just because John Gotti beat one jury trial, the feds were just going to walk away.
Of course, this is the same woman who, seconds after Tony explained in thinly veiled code that Richie Aprile was dead, started expounding on the trip to Italy she was planning with Rosalie.
submitted by Leading_Lock to thesopranos [link] [comments]
C'mon Carmela. Did you expect that the higher Tony rose in the ranks, and the more criminal schemes he was involved in and oversaw, and the more bodies that piled up, LE was going to focus less on him? That's like assuming that just because John Gotti beat one jury trial, the feds were just going to walk away.
Of course, this is the same woman who, seconds after Tony explained in thinly veiled code that Richie Aprile was dead, started expounding on the trip to Italy she was planning with Rosalie.
2020.04.27 16:48 Lord_Burgess Album of the Week #11: The Ghost of Tom Joad!
Week #11: The Ghost of Tom Joad
Link to the full album on YouTubeLink to the full album on Spotify
Track List (50:16 Minutes):
• The Ghost of Tom Joad
• Straight Time
• Highway 29
• Youngstown
• Sinaloa Cowboys
• The Line
• Balbao Park
• Dry Lightning
• The New Timer
• Across the Border
• Galveston Bay
• My Best Was Never Good Enough
Following the 1995 studio reunion with the E Street Band and the release of Greatest Hits Springsteen's writing activity increased significantly. He wrote and recorded the album between March and September 1995. The album consists of seven solo tracks and five band tracks. The Ghost of Tom Joad received mostly favorable reviews. Mikal Gilmore of Rolling Stone called it "Springsteen's best album in ten years," and considered it "among the bravest work that anyone has given us this decade." However, it reached only number 11 on the Billboard 200 breaking a string of eight consecutive Top 5 studio albums in the United States for Springsteen. The album is mainly backed by acoustic guitar work and the lyrics on most tracks are a somber reflection of life in the mid-1990s in America and Mexico. The character of Tom Joad entered the American consciousness in John Steinback's 1939 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Grapes of Wrath, set against the economic hardships of the Great Depression. This spawned a film version starring Henry Fonda which in turn inspired folk singer Woody Guthrie to pen The Ballad of Tom Joad. The album's release was followed by Springsteen's solo acoustic Ghost of Tom Joad Tour, which ran from 1995 to 1997 and took place in mostly small venues.
The tour ran from November 21st 1995 till May 26th 1997, totalling 128 shows. The first show was played at the State Theatre in New Brunswick, New Jersey. Following this, many shows were played in major cities. The tour took a break for the winter and then resumed in Youngstown, Ohio. By February of 1996 the tour moved on to Europe. The tour also played shows in Japan and Australia and finished up in Paris.
The shows were in stark contrast to the typical Springsteen concerts and advertisers tried to make this as clear as possible for would-be attendees. The shows largely featured Springsteen with only an acoustic guitar and a harmonica. For song songs, Bruce's guitar technician, Kevin Buell, would play a synthesizer off-stage. Typically, the shows would open with a performance of The Ghost of Tom Joad and following this, Springsteen said something like this:
"This is where I get to set the ground rules a little bit ... a lot of these songs tonight were composed using a lot of silence, silence is a part of the music, so I really need your collaboration tonight in giving me that silence so I can do my best for you ... if you feel like clapping or singing along, you'll be an embarrassment to your friends and family ... if someone sitting next to you is talking, politely ask them to shut the fuck up ... Don't make me come down there and smack you around, it'll mess with my man-of-the-people image."
This led to some fans calling the tour the "Shut the Fuck Up Tour". The performance style of the tour varied greatly depending upon song. Some older numbers such as "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and the recently exhumed "Murder Incorporated" were vigorously strummed on guitar and bellowed in voice. Slide work also sometimes lent musical dynamism. But most selections, including almost all of the Joad material, were indeed arranged with silence as the leading accompaniment. Even normal fan favorite Born in the U.S.A. was recast into a snarling attack mostly bereft of its anthemic title line. The Promised Land was transformed into a ghostly echo of its usually rousing self, propelled by percussive slapping of Springsteen's Takamine body.
Cynthia
Tiger Rose
*I'm Turning Into Elvis
It's the Little Things That Count
Idiot's Delight
I'm Not Sleeping
1945
Cheap Motel
Bruce Springsteen – guitar, keyboards, harmonica, vocals, producer
Danny Federici – accordion, keyboards
Gary Mallaber – drums
Garry Tallent, Jim Hanson, Jennifer Condos – bass guitar
Marty Rifkin – pedal steel guitar
Soozie Tyrell – violin, background vocals
Lisa Lowell – background vocals
Patti Scialfa – background vocals
Album Cover
Enjoy the discussion, see you this Thursday for Song of the Week! Next Monday on Album of the Week we have The Rising!
2020.03.06 14:48 QueenOfTheNecropolis Questions regarding Tammy's death and Sam Butikofer, the Coroner for Madison County Idaho
Something has been eating at me regarding the death of Tammy Daybell and maybe someone with some professional knowledge can help me better understand.
I am an apprenticing Funeral DirectoEmbalmer and I handle caring for the deceased and their families in a major metropolis here in the United States. Being a large city we do have many murders, suicides, auto accidents, and so forth. I have learned quite a bit about legal protocol surrounding decedents prior to taking them into our care. One of those things is that any death that occurs outside of a Physician's care, like the ones aforementioned, and specifically in this case, a death of a relatively young woman in her own home, LE and the Coroner must be contacted.
Sam Butikofer Brenda Dye, an elected official Coroner for the county is specifically tasked with initiating investigation of sudden deaths such as this . Therefore, I am lead to believe that by law and proper protocol that she was contacted regarding the death of Tammy Daybell and it was her job to lead investigation of her death by sending Tammy to a Medical Examiner and determine her cause of death.
If a death is suspicious or unknown, and at at the time of her death it was in fact both of those things, WHY WAS THIS NOT DONE? To all of my knowledge you can't just say as a Next of Kin, "No, we don't want an autopsy." In a death under these circumstances, the Coroner's professional responsibility is to have an ME determine how that person died. Instead, he decided to grant a waiver of autopsy because Chad did not want one.
Did Sam Butikofer know Chad from church? Did he just think he was a good guy and didn't want to cause the family grief by sending Tammy to a Medical Examiner for a proper look into the cause of death via autopsy/toxicology? Did Brenda Dye just make a huge lapse in judgement or was there something more?
That is awfully convenient for Chad Daybell! If Tammy was embalmed, like I mentioned in a previous post, the exhuming of her body is going to be of little use. Once blood is drained from the body and Formaldehyde is placed into the veins and interacts with the tissues, it makes toxicology nearly useless (I won't say impossible) but the effects that Formalin has in the body interferes even on a microscopic levels. Tammy has now been deceased for several months, and I can only imagine the chemicals have made an even larger impact on the ability to find a cause of death by a toxin at this point.
Help a sister out if you have more insight....cause this just doesn't make sense to me. This would be a GROSS mishandling of a elected public official in my personal opinion. Please feel free to correct anything I have misstated or misunderstood, it would be greatly appreciated in my attempt to understand the handling of Tammy Daybell's death.
**EDIT** I have been corrected in the Coroner's name. It has been corrected from Sam Butikofer to Brenda Dye. The county has been corrected from Madison County to Fremont County**
Thanks to Blue_ElvisIV for the information!
submitted by QueenOfTheNecropolis to LoriVallow [link] [comments]
I am an apprenticing Funeral DirectoEmbalmer and I handle caring for the deceased and their families in a major metropolis here in the United States. Being a large city we do have many murders, suicides, auto accidents, and so forth. I have learned quite a bit about legal protocol surrounding decedents prior to taking them into our care. One of those things is that any death that occurs outside of a Physician's care, like the ones aforementioned, and specifically in this case, a death of a relatively young woman in her own home, LE and the Coroner must be contacted.
If a death is suspicious or unknown, and at at the time of her death it was in fact both of those things, WHY WAS THIS NOT DONE? To all of my knowledge you can't just say as a Next of Kin, "No, we don't want an autopsy." In a death under these circumstances, the Coroner's professional responsibility is to have an ME determine how that person died. Instead, he decided to grant a waiver of autopsy because Chad did not want one.
That is awfully convenient for Chad Daybell! If Tammy was embalmed, like I mentioned in a previous post, the exhuming of her body is going to be of little use. Once blood is drained from the body and Formaldehyde is placed into the veins and interacts with the tissues, it makes toxicology nearly useless (I won't say impossible) but the effects that Formalin has in the body interferes even on a microscopic levels. Tammy has now been deceased for several months, and I can only imagine the chemicals have made an even larger impact on the ability to find a cause of death by a toxin at this point.
Help a sister out if you have more insight....cause this just doesn't make sense to me. This would be a GROSS mishandling of a elected public official in my personal opinion. Please feel free to correct anything I have misstated or misunderstood, it would be greatly appreciated in my attempt to understand the handling of Tammy Daybell's death.
**EDIT** I have been corrected in the Coroner's name. It has been corrected from Sam Butikofer to Brenda Dye. The county has been corrected from Madison County to Fremont County**
Thanks to Blue_ElvisIV for the information!