My family never pressured me to figure out what to do with my life. Some of them expected me to get a college education, some of them encouraged me to certain fields of work, but never did they force me to decide on anything. I dreamed of becoming many different things all throughout my life. There were careers I considered more seriously, journalist, criminal defense lawyer, paramedic, equine veterinarian, private investigator, an endless list of possible outcomes of what I could have become. On March 28th, 2016, my life changed and I couldn’t control any of it.
My father went missing on the 26th. A man who never missed a day of work in his entire life hadn’t shown up to his shift at the hospital. His body was found on the 30th, just off Snoqualmie pass. The coroner determined he died sometime on the 28th. I was a sixteen year old in my sophomore year of high school. The span of those 5 days felt like five years. I barely remember them. I remember zoning out in class, staring at my phone waiting for my dad to call me. I remember never wanting to leave the house, in case he would come home. I couldn’t sleep, but I felt tired and heavy almost like the whole world was slowing down. Then on Wednesday March 30th, around 8pm I found out my dad would never come home again.
“In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! We are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory”
J.R.R. Tolkien
Death like this, completely unexpected changes people. I didn’t realize how many things he wouldn’t get to experience with me. He would never get to see me get ready for prom, never help me buy my first truck, he wouldn’t see me be captain of the varsity soccer team, he wouldn’t see me graduate high school, or graduate from college, he’d never celebrate his 50th birthday, he’d never see me get married, he wouldn’t ever get to be grandpa. Death like this, affects more than just one or two generations.
The loss of him, for awhile caused me to lose my way. I stopped going to school. My perfect 4.0 dropped to a 2.0. I didn’t go anywhere, or do much of anything. I stayed home, and slept most of the time. None of my friends understood, so many of them just stopped talking to me. I’m not sure at what point I became interested in my dad’s case, but that’s when things became easier for me. At that point I decided what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to become a homicide detective, and try to give people the answers I may never get. I want to prevent the loss I feel everyday in the lives of others. I went back to going to school, never missing a day, and got my grade point average back up.
I have become passionate about the process of solving cold cases, catching killers, and preventing the loss of innocent lives. As I am studying to become a detective, I read research on forensic entomology, research deviance, cold cases, the phenomena of false confessions, profiling, and anything to do with homicide. This path I’ve set myself on, I believe would make him proud. My dad loved saving people. Unlike him, I could never be a doctor, but like him I can still try to save people.
Musing Murder Mysteries 