MAR. 3, 2006
MRS. GILROY CALLED TODAY
Mrs. Gilroy called me today. For 17 years she's been calling me on this same day. You see, it's the anniversary of her only son's death.
Michael was one of those kids you just knew had a bright future ahead of him. He was devoted, hardworking and ambitious.
When a lot of the kids his age were goofing around or living off their parents, 19-year-old Michael worked three jobs. He worked full-time at a printshop, and on weekends he worked as a maintenance man at a convalescent home. And at night, instead of hanging out with his friends or trying to meet girls, he delivered pizzas.
According to Mrs. Gilroy, Michael never complained. All he cared about was making a better life for himself and his mother.
One night the pizza place wasn't very busy. Since there weren't many deliveries, the manager was going to send Michael home. But Michael convinced his boss to let him stay and work for tips.
Not long before closing, an order was called in from a nearby hotel. Michael's partner was supposed to make the delivery, but Michael offered to do it himself and split the tip with the other guy. The partner, realizing it was a good deal, accepted. That decision probably saved his life.
The last time anyone saw Michael alive, he was sailing out the door of the pizza place vowing to make his delivery and return in record time.
But he never made it back.
When Michael arrived at the hotel to make his delivery, he was somehow lured inside a hotel room, robbed and drowned in a bathtub.
It was a senseless, cold-blooded murder committed by two east coast parolees. They fled to Las Vegas, but I managed to track them there and arrest them. Not long after that, they went on trial for murder.
During the trial, Mrs. Gilroy sat at the back of the courtroom and wept quietly. I had trouble looking at her, so instead I watched the jurors, who would look over at Mrs. Gilroy curiously, never quite sure who the poor woman was.
After both men were convicted, Mrs. Gilroy took the stand to give her Victim Impact Statement. As Mrs. Gilroy talked about her son, his devotion to her, and the promise his life had held, you could see tears in the eyes of every juror.
She got to me too. It's one of the hardest parts of a trial, hearing from the victim's family. It reminds you that you don't just solve a case, send the criminals to prison, and that's it.
When something like that happens, things can't just go back to normal. Not for people like Mrs. Gilroy.
The annual phone calls only last for about five minutes. We exchange the regular niceties, but never say one word about her son. Mrs. Gilroy just wants to know I haven't forgotten Michael.
I haven't.
After we hung up, I thought a lot about Mrs. Gilroy and her loss. And then I started to think about my own.
I'm not saying it's even close to what she went through, but for the first time when I've spoken to her, I felt like I could understand, at least a little, what it must be like for her.
I know what it's like to lose someone you love, and to be alone. And I wondered if things could ever really go back to normal for me again.
Past Entries:
- (2/3) Classroom Duty
- (1/27) Chilling Wakeup
- (1/20) The Dinner Party
- (1/13) The Team Building Workshop
