My Life with Death

Office of FBI Deputy Director John Sollermann, FBI Building, December 4, 2018

 Miles upon miles of the same corridors crisscrossed by busy bureaucrats and federal agents, I felt so out of place and alien. I was sitting outside the FBI Deputy Director's office. I waited there for a while, but it felt like an eternity. My whole body was shaking. I stared at an empty spot on the wall across from me. But the entire wall was not bare and white. On it, I have hung framed photographs of FBI directors and deputy directors from Hoover to the present day.

"Agent," it said suddenly.

The assistant came out the door and looked at me. Meanwhile, the phone rang in the office.

"They are already waiting for you," she informed me.

I stepped up very carefully. I had no strength in my legs. My whole body was weak - from the drugs given in the hospital for pain relief and to support the immune system. Unfortunately, their side effects were fatigue, weakness, numbness in the limbs, and occasional dizziness - paradoxically, the same symptoms that I would suffer without medication.

I walked through a door into what looked like another waiting room - the assistant's office - and then through another door - which was already open - directly into Deputy Sollermann's office. At the same time, the assistant picked up the ringing phones and immediately wrote down information and meetings in Deputy Sollermann's diary. Just standing and being in that room made me a lot more nervous, knowing that, let alone finding out that I would be face to face with Principal Wright and Ryan, that is, Deputy Kent.

"Kent," shocked. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Good morning, Agent," the representative addressed me. "Please sit down," he added, pointing to a chair before his desk.

Fortunately for me, they ignored my offhand comment about Kent's presence.

"Sir," I nervously said as I sat down.

He also sat down and alternately watched me and the events around him. He had enough to do, and I should be grateful for the few minutes he took for me.

"Thank you for coming, Agent Stepman," politely. "where do I even begin?" he thought. "you should turn the Doll Killer case over to Agent Kent," he said directly, looking at Kent.

He just nodded in agreement.

"What?" in surprise. "but, sir."

"Agent, understand the situation I'm in...the situation you're in...and Agent Kent. I am very sorry for what happened to you, but unfortunately, there is nothing else I can do. This isn't an offer or advice; it's more of an order from a superior."

I looked disappointed and fundamentally disagreed.

"I didn't come here today to give you my resignation. On the contrary, I came so I could continue my work," I announced in a spirited manner. "the cause of death was asphyxia, caused by sarin poisoning. I would define killing with this poison as perfect murder. Sarin has the property of evaporating very quickly. So, if my guess is correct and all three victims were killed, this is still a brilliant and dangerous killer. If he has sarin, he could kill many more people,' I thought. "but it's strange. Sarin is banned in most countries of the world..."

"Moment. Wait, Agent," he cut me off. "You ignore that this may be an attack directly on you. Agent," he emphasized. "we both know this job was too much of a burden for you from the start. In your condition, it was a miracle that you made it here. And now it would be even more challenging for you."

"What do you mean?" uncertainly.

"They shot you twice. Once so seriously that you almost died. An explosive device exploded in the building where you worked. Your friends died there, your colleagues. You almost bleed out. And a few months later, the same person who planted the bomb kidnapped you and buried you alive in the woods far from Las Vegas. And now you found out that someone poisoned you. Are you sure it's a good idea for you to dive back into work to investigate more murders, more serial murders? You want to negotiate justice. So be it, but do it differently. You don't have to be an FBI agent to help people. You can do anything else with your education and skills," he flattered me. "I'll put it another way," he cleared his throat. "you have PTSD. And based on recent events, I have to suspend you," he announced. "here," he said, handing me the paper.