THE FIRST FIVE DAYS II
Day Two:
I woke up at about 9:30am, took a shower, and my friends drove me to the girls. I
wasn't able to drive. I told Caroline and Catherine that Karen was in heaven. Caroline
asked how she died. I told her someone killed her. Where? How?
They wanted to know when the funeral would be. I told them they would have to help
decide what their mommy would wear, and what music we would play for her. They
were strong.
I called Karen's sister. I called my mother. I called Mary to take care of the girls.
I tried to eat. The phone was ringing all day. I think I mostly sat and stared. All I could
think of was how Karen had suffered. I called it channel one.
Day Three::
It was Sunday. I was taken to Shelton's Funeral Home. I gave them information for
Karen's obituary. I picked out a casket. I made funeral arrangements.
By that evening, my friends had received about 200 phone calls; I'd answered maybe
15. I was on "channel one."
I was in a state of bewilderment.
There was food everywhere. All I wanted was Debbie's chicken salad on Judy's
sourdough bread.
Day Four:
I was taken to Mary Burke Florist to buy an arrangement for the casket. When they
asked me what I wanted the card to say, I broke down and had to leave. We went from
there to Roselawn Cemetery, where the man recommended a mausoleum. He said it
was where the doctors' families got buried. I was offended, and asked him if a
step-ladder came with it. I chose a spot under two pretty trees, but he didn't want to sell
it to me, because there were mostly Catholics buried there. He sold it to me, anyway.
I went from there to Sonic for a hamburger. Sitting in the car, I called First USA to tell
them my wife had been murdered and her credit card stolen. I told them the police
wanted the card to remain open, and for them to be contacted immediately if it was
used. The man on the phone refused, and told me he had already cancelled the card,
and that he'd "pass along" my request to their security with an entry on the computer,
but he doubted they'd read it.
We went from there to the house--my first time back. I had to get clothes and shoes for
the girls, and for myself--for visitation that evening and the funeral the next day. Two
policemen accompanied me, and it kept me from having to go into the bloodiest parts of
the house. There were four cars of press people there. I remember standing in the
foyer, next to the steps, with the front porch full of press, banging and banging on the
door--ringing and ringing the doorbell. The crime scene, including much blood, was on
the other side of that door. Al Whittaker came to the side of the house with his
cameraman, hoping to get a shot of me leaving the house. He and the others were asked
to leave the property, so they moved to the end of the driveway, with cameras ready.
I got the clothes, favorite stuffed animals, and the music for the funeral. I was driven
away, hidden in the back seat under my Army jacket, to avoid the photographers.
We had just enough time to rush home, get the clothes to the girls, get dressed, and go
to Shelton's for visitation. I viewed the body. I left the girls' photos and Caroline's
drawing in the casket with Karen. I greeted about two hundred people over the next two
hours, as gracefully as I could. I was taken back to my friends' house, and to bed.
I called it Hell Monday.
I woke up at about 9:30am, took a shower, and my friends drove me to the girls. I
wasn't able to drive. I told Caroline and Catherine that Karen was in heaven. Caroline
asked how she died. I told her someone killed her. Where? How?
They wanted to know when the funeral would be. I told them they would have to help
decide what their mommy would wear, and what music we would play for her. They
were strong.
I called Karen's sister. I called my mother. I called Mary to take care of the girls.
I tried to eat. The phone was ringing all day. I think I mostly sat and stared. All I could
think of was how Karen had suffered. I called it channel one.
Day Three::
It was Sunday. I was taken to Shelton's Funeral Home. I gave them information for
Karen's obituary. I picked out a casket. I made funeral arrangements.
By that evening, my friends had received about 200 phone calls; I'd answered maybe
15. I was on "channel one."
I was in a state of bewilderment.
There was food everywhere. All I wanted was Debbie's chicken salad on Judy's
sourdough bread.
Day Four:
I was taken to Mary Burke Florist to buy an arrangement for the casket. When they
asked me what I wanted the card to say, I broke down and had to leave. We went from
there to Roselawn Cemetery, where the man recommended a mausoleum. He said it
was where the doctors' families got buried. I was offended, and asked him if a
step-ladder came with it. I chose a spot under two pretty trees, but he didn't want to sell
it to me, because there were mostly Catholics buried there. He sold it to me, anyway.
I went from there to Sonic for a hamburger. Sitting in the car, I called First USA to tell
them my wife had been murdered and her credit card stolen. I told them the police
wanted the card to remain open, and for them to be contacted immediately if it was
used. The man on the phone refused, and told me he had already cancelled the card,
and that he'd "pass along" my request to their security with an entry on the computer,
but he doubted they'd read it.
We went from there to the house--my first time back. I had to get clothes and shoes for
the girls, and for myself--for visitation that evening and the funeral the next day. Two
policemen accompanied me, and it kept me from having to go into the bloodiest parts of
the house. There were four cars of press people there. I remember standing in the
foyer, next to the steps, with the front porch full of press, banging and banging on the
door--ringing and ringing the doorbell. The crime scene, including much blood, was on
the other side of that door. Al Whittaker came to the side of the house with his
cameraman, hoping to get a shot of me leaving the house. He and the others were asked
to leave the property, so they moved to the end of the driveway, with cameras ready.
I got the clothes, favorite stuffed animals, and the music for the funeral. I was driven
away, hidden in the back seat under my Army jacket, to avoid the photographers.
We had just enough time to rush home, get the clothes to the girls, get dressed, and go
to Shelton's for visitation. I viewed the body. I left the girls' photos and Caroline's
drawing in the casket with Karen. I greeted about two hundred people over the next two
hours, as gracefully as I could. I was taken back to my friends' house, and to bed.
I called it Hell Monday.