So I’ve just broken into the house and discovered my dead father-in-law on the floor. I called my wife and broke the horrible news and the paramedics showed up. While they worked I blasted through my tale while I shook and tried to wipe the cry from my eyes. They confirmed my diagnosis and we all three waited for the police to arrive.
The sheriffs were very nice and made a point of making small talk and asking me some genuine nice questions about my father-in-law and his life. I felt like I was repeating myself because one asked while the other was talking to the medics and then the other asked while sheriff one ran out to the car. I was trying to hold my shit together because as I’ve mentioned numerous times before in this thing crying is not a good look for me. The thought that I was sobbing during my alone time with the body flashed in my head and I was attempting to buck up without much success.
The sheriffs had to call the coroner because he died alone in the house and I told my tale for a fourth time that night. We talked about his health, medications and doctors while we waited for the evidence technician to show up. The CSI dude took pictures of absolutely everything including all of his medication bottles as well as the entire contents of his wallet and every room in the house. Some detectives arrived during the photo session and at some point during the fifth telling of my tale I realized that I was on the business end of a police interrogation.
You probably figured that out a while ago as I always do while watching my beloved crime dramas but in real life you really are as dumb as some of the perps on TV. The realization brought about a shift in my attitude and just as I was about to get salty with the authorities my friend Tim arrived on the scene. He calmed me down and they made us both wait outside in the cold for a while. I was lucky that he decided to drive down against my wishes because I couldn’t have handled some of the later stuff without him.
more later as I am bumming myself out.