My Life with Death

Home of St. Angelica, Arlington, Washington, D.C., Paul Wilcke's room

 "Mr. Wilcke...," I gave him my right hand in the doorway. "Agent Stepman... I'm from the FBI," I introduced myself, and we walked inside together.

I lied to him about not being with the FBI anymore. I wasn't used to it, wanted to only a few people to know, and wanted to continue my investigation.

The old gentleman was sitting in an armchair with checkered cushions. He had photos displayed on the shelf next to the bed. In one of them, however, he was recognizably different – as a young man with thick hair, proud of a police job well done. On a framed positive, he stood in front of the Capitol building with President Nixon. And there were many of them.

"I remember the days when women working for the FBI sat behind old oak desks with heavy drawers that the frail girls couldn't even open. Women like that with pleated skirts used to answer phones and make coffee, and now they're agents," he sighed, pointing at me.

"That's nice... sir... I guess maybe that was meant to be a compliment." He nodded absently. "Mr. Wilck, do you remember the Doll Killer case? You investigated him before you retired. It was two murders. Two men of the same age with a common past. Their heads were severed, and an equally disfigured doll was found beside their bodies..."

"Yes, I remember this case very well," he replied. "And what do you need from me? As far as I know, he was moved to the deferred cases. We had no leads, and to it all, there was something mystical about the case...," he added.

"I already know everything because I reopened the case...Mr. Wilcke, we discovered the third victim over a month ago."

He was surprised.

"I see you are a very ambitious young woman. You have taken on quite a burden. This case is not like any other. It's unique," enthused.

"Mr. Wilck, please try to remember something... anything... isn't there something you didn't mention, something you didn't mention in your report that only you know about?" I asked hopefully.

In the modesty of the room, the beige walls, and the green carpet, the former FBI agent began to reminisce about the case that still does not make him sleep peacefully—the last and only case of his stellar career that he never solved.

"I don't know what you want from me?" he hesitated. He suddenly became nervous.

"I know from the files that you wanted to be done with the case quickly if you'll allow me to be blunt...it was FBI policy. They knew you were pre-retired and took you off the case, leaving you with your witch-cult theory, but it was wrong." "I was a good agent, honest, never lied about anything," he defended with. "and I never let a case float at all. No one and nothing would ever make me thwart an investigation.

"I know you've been a good... the best agent the J.E. Hoover Building has had. There are still stories about you at the academy as an FBI legend..."

"I was just one of many who defended justice. And as I see, he proudly and adamantly defends her to this day," he appreciated my honesty.

"I need to know who made you give up on this case?"

"I thought you knew about this...," he wondered. "You know... Agent Kent, your man," he added.

It took my breath away. I couldn't believe my ears.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I hoped it wasn't true. Not again. Kent can't get in my way again. Not possible.

"Five years ago, when he became deputy director, he knew that I was going to leave the office soon and that I was going to retire - I knew his father - he was looking for someone to replace me ... someone who has experience with serial killers, educated ... who can see deep someone who can uncover the truth in the depths of mystery..."

"Five years ago...he pulled me out of the deepest, darkest dungeons of the FBI after four years of office work...right among the agents...," I added.

"He asked me if I knew of anyone... I suggested you...," he said, then added. "he refused. At first, he didn't want to let something like that go.

He knew it could be a problem because of the conflict of interest because of your relationship. That's how your marriage was already getting rave reviews from the crowds. Something like that could have cost you both your job and recognition..."

I didn't want to listen to anything else. Suddenly, it's like I'm hearing nothing but dirty lies. I'm starting to listen to that foul-mouthed, high-strung agent from Nevada at every turn. Mr. Sollermann was speaking in the same tone. My paranoia grew more and more.

"Stop it!" I shouted. My head was pounding, and my eyes were spinning like on a merry-go-round. I kept yelling at him. "Everyone around me wants to discredit me. Why can't anyone admit I'm where I made it myself? I earned this badge!" I grabbed the gold FBI agent emblem and waved it before his eyes.

He got up from the chair and carefully took my hands. He gestured for me to sit in the other chair. "Calm down. That's not all. Let me finish this from the beginning: he saw ambition in you, huge potential, and himself. Despite all the risks, he helped you become an agent, and yes, as you said, you deserve this privilege. Your reputation precedes you. You are a woman that many men can envy. You are a damn good agent. However, a few months after that, he came across this case. He knew you were the only one who could solve him because you already solved him once.''