The Grieving Process

Trials

On Monday, April 23, 2001 the day had arrived to find out what happened to Amelia. The district attorney had called and wanted to meet with my sister and father. Danny was not invited to the meeting.The Sullivan County Sheriff's Office had been investigating her death, since the night Amelia had been taken to the hospital. Danny's telephone call to 911 had seemed suspicious, so an inquisition into her death was required. I was sent to school that day, because my parent's thought the district attorney and detectives were going to conclude that Amelia had a rare disease. Looking back, I wish that was the cause of her demise. This was the last day, things in my life would ever be remotely normal.

My father was the only one allowed in the meeting. They showed him the evidence that the police department and district attorney's office had against Danny, and the results of Amelia's autopsy. They knew without a doubt that Danny had caused the illness and subsequent death of his own child. My sister had kept a detailed handwritten diary chronicling Amelia's illness and doctor's visits. Her diary had placed Danny with Amelia when she would have bouts of vomiting, or any related illness. Amelia would always become sick while my sister was working the 7-7 nursing shift at Holston Valley Hospital. The detectives said that my sister's willingness to cooperate with the authorities, and her taking Amelia to the doctor had ruled her out as a suspect.

I got off the school bus at 3:45pm, and my mom was waiting on me in the driveway. The gravel cracked under my tennis shoes as I ran to see what had caused the death of my niece. My mom's face was streaked with tears. I knew the news she was about to tell me would not be good.

"Danny caused Amelia's death," she said softly.
"What?" I said astonished. I couldn't imagine him killing his own child, something that was half of him.
"He did, the bastard killed her."
"Where is he? I want to strangle him with my bare hands."
"We will have none of that Faye," my mom said sternly, "we have already had enough death and grief in our lives."
"Mom, a jury wouldn't convict me," I said the tears blinding my eyesight.
"Faye, your emotions are talking, please calm down."
"Where is Danny? Why did he do it?" The questions circled my mind. I could not comprehend how you could take the life of an innocent child. Your own child!
"He's at the police station with your father and sister."
"I hope he rots in jail," I said gritting my teeth until my jawbone ached.
"I don't know why he would do such a thing, Faye. I don't understand it. It's so unnatural," my mom said.

We slowly walked into the front door of the house, and sat on the brown leather couch waiting for a phone call from daddy to let us know what was going on. We passed the hours by talking, watching mindless television and crying. I think I threw up about five times that afternoon. The mental anguish was beginning to take a physical toll on my body. I had a terrible headache, and my body would begin shaking for no apparent reason. Daddy finally called us at 8:30pm, and told mom that Danny had just finished confessing everything he had done to Amelia. The Sheriff's Department was going to charge Danny with first degree murder, and he would spend his first night in jail. Mom and I got dressed, and she drove to the police station.

"Why?" I screamed at my dad, "why?"
"I don't know, honey. Only God knows why he did it."
"Yeah, I'm sure God knows," I said sarcastically.

I went and got back into my mom's red Honda, and slammed the car door. I was not going to sit there and listen to why Danny had murdered his own child. I opened the door briefly for some fresh air to keep myself from throwing up anymore than I already had that day. I was angry. I balled my hands up into fists so tight that my knuckles turned white. I hit the car door, taking out my anger on an inanimate object that I wished was Danny.

My sister walked over to the car, "Faye, come here, I need to talk to you," she said clutching a ttissue in her hands.
"Yeah," I said walking to entrance steps of the police station.
We sat on the cool concrete steps, amid the cigarette butts and litter that adorned the sides of the steps.
"You need to be strong for mom and dad. I know you're angry at Danny, we all are. You're acting like a rebellious child right now, and that is not helping anyone at this moment."