Chat - Archer Mayor [36]
“He leave a note?” Willy asked.
“Doesn’t say here, but that’s no surprise. We get notification of a parolee’s death, but the local PD and the ME’s office have the actual details. You’ll have to ask them.”
“Any mention of close friends?” Sam asked.
“There’s a Beth Ann Agostini,” Snyder read. “Her name pops up in the last few months. Lives on Canal.” He quickly scribbled her address down on a pad, adding, “Or used to. These folks move around a lot.”
“That’s it?” Willy asked incredulously.
Snyder was almost apologetic. “Yeah. Griffis wasn’t adjusting all that well after he got out, but he kept within our guidelines.” He sat back and studied them. “He was a probationer, not a parolee. That would’ve put him on a tighter leash. But on probation, as long as you check in and don’t get caught doing anything foolish, you’re part of a big pool of people. It’s easy to fall through the cracks.”
He passed his hand through his hair abruptly, his frustration showing, and added, “We get a lot of flack for trying to keep people out of prison, or letting them out on conditions too soon and too easily. But, believe me, it ain’t high school, and some of these younger guys get really screwed up. Always drives me nuts when people go on and on about more jail cells and tougher sentences when they have no clue what they’re talking about.”
Sam and Willy didn’t respond, both of them just staring back at him.
Snyder smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. Guess that was a little overboard. No offense, I hope.”
Willy dragged out his response, making a mockery of it. “Naaaah.”
Sam pulled out a subpoena she’d secured just to be on the safe side. “Any chance we could have a printout of the case notes?”
As if defeated by some inner debate, Dave Snyder merely placed the subpoena on his desk and set to work at the keyboard.
Leo remained in the ICU, looking increasingly reduced by his standing retinue of monitors and IV hangers clustered around like skeletal mourners. And now he spent all his time asleep.
“I thought he was getting better,” his mother said softly, sitting in the waiting room, her shoulders slumped.
Leo’s primary physician crouched down before her wheelchair to better make eye contact, a gesture Joe appreciated. His name was Karl Weisenbeck, and so far, he’d been attentive, honest, and compassionate, seeking them out more often than they’d asked for him over the previous few days.
For Joe, the man’s soothing presence was doubly welcome. Not only had Leo’s downturn come as a surprise, but so had Gail’s unannounced return. In fact, Dr. Weisenbeck had been talking to her alone upon their entrance, creating in Joe’s mind an awkward jarring, as if he’d accidentally walked in on something inappropriate. Given the multiple emotions he was then balancing, the addition of this unusually loaded one had been a shock.
Not that her being here was a bad idea. The greeting between the two women had made that clear, reminding him of a loving daughter and mother after a long separation. Now, especially given Weisenbeck’s announcement of Leo’s reversal, Joe had to concede that his mother’s coping ability was strengthened by Gail’s presence. Over the years, these women had become close friends, driving home Joe’s occasional sensation of being the odd man out.
None of which mattered at the moment, he forced himself to remember as he leaned forward to hear the doctor’s explanation.
“It’s a delicate time for your son,” Weisenbeck was saying. “As you know, he suffered initially from a collapsed lung and flail chest, which is a breaking away of an independent part of the rib cage. The lung issue we resolved pretty easily, but the combination is what made it so difficult for him to breathe, and why we were helping him out with the nasal cannula at first. Unfortunately, the extent of his injuries has now led to what we call shock lung, or more technically, post-traumatic respiratory distress.”
There was a small, almost indistinguishable intake of breath by his elderly listener, which prompted the doctor to take her hand in his own before continuing.