Bringing Adam Home - Les Standiford [24]
Cox observed that the eyes in the head were bulging, but that was likely a postmortem phenomenon, a result of the gas that had formed in the decomposing tissues of the brain and sent the organ rising to the surface of the canal. As Cox also took the time to mention, “Extensive putrefaction with a foul-smelling odor [was] present.”
Cox completed his work with an examination of the teeth. He found the upper right incisor missing, where a new tooth had been erupting through the gum to take its place. All the other teeth were whole, though there looked to be an amalgam filling in the last left molar, an observation that Cox confirmed with X-rays. With that, Cox concluded his examination. All he could do then was wait.
At about 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday, Lieutenant Dick Hynds, the supervisor of detectives who had introduced Joe Matthews around Hollywood PD less than a week before, arrived in Vero Beach, accompanied by John Monahan, the man whose own son John Walsh had saved that long-ago day at the Diplomat Hotel. Hynds brought with him Adam Walsh’s records and X-rays from Hollywood dentist Marshall Berger, which showed an amalgam filling “on the buccal side of the last lower left deciduous molar.” The filling was identical to that which Cox had discovered.
If there remained any doubt as to the identity of the remains, Monahan quickly took care of it. He took one look at the face—he could be wrong, he told himself—then asked the medical examiner to part the lips. When he saw the missing incisor and the tooth that had been coming in to replace it, his hopes vanished. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned to Hynds and Cox. “That’s him,” Monahan said. “That’s Adam Walsh.”
Earlier that morning, John Walsh awakened in his bed at the St. Moritz Hotel in New York City, groping over a still-sleeping Revé for the ringing phone. As he lifted the receiver, he glanced at the bedside clock: 6:00 a.m.
Walsh was so groggy he couldn’t even be sure who the caller was, but when he finally made his purpose clear, Walsh snapped awake.
Some remains had been found, the voice on the other end was telling him—it was a cop, wasn’t it?—but Walsh was not to be concerned, since the discovery had been made such a distance from Hollywood. They suspected it was a missing ten-year-old boy from the Tampa area. They just needed the name of the Walsh family dentist—they’d get the records and rule out any chance that it was Adam. Meantime, Walsh should not be worried.
Not be worried? Walsh thought, as he gave the caller the information. He hung up the phone, trying to process what he had just heard, trying to decide whether or not to wake Revé and share the news.
As he pondered, the phone rang again, and Walsh snatched it up. This time it was a producer from Good Morning America. Word had already reached the network that a severed head had been found in a canal in Florida. The producer wanted to offer the Walshes a chance to cancel their appearance on the show in case the remains turned out to be Adam’s.
But Walsh wasn’t canceling anything. Despite the dread that he was feeling, he couldn’t be certain what this discovery in Florida might mean, and the opportunity to appear on national television to publicize Adam’s disappearance was one in a million. He had brought along photographs of other desperate parents’ missing children as well; no way could he cancel the appearance.
“What else can I do?” he told the producer, willing away his dread. Even if it was Adam who’d been found, he said, “I still have to give it a shot for all the other kids.”
The producer understood. This was the Walshes’ call. The car would be at the hotel to pick them up, as scheduled.
By the time Revé woke, Walsh had made the decision to keep the phone calls to himself. No point in worrying her, he told himself. And besides, to talk about the calls only made the possibility that Adam had been harmed seem all the more real.
The interview, with