The Worst Case I Ever Worked
The following is a true story. The names of the victims and the accused have been altered to protect their identities.
During my 28 years as a law-enforcement officer, I saw my fair share of horrors. Having spent a decade as a police detective and crime-scene investigator, I witnessed all manners of homicide victims, suicide victims, accident victims, and more. I saw bodies so fresh their blood was still warm, and bodies that had fully decomposed long before being discovered. I’d been in homes with windows blackened by curtains of buzzing flies that had feasted upon a macabre buffet of death. I had been in rooms where brain matter was dripping from the ceiling, and where I had to pick fragments of skull out from between the treads of my shoes. Twice I had people die right in my hands. Through it all I had been blessed with the ability to filter out the terrible images and lock them away in the far recesses of my mind.
All except for one case… for which I had zero defenses.
It was just after five P.M. on a hot June day. I was heading home from work in my unmarked detective unit, ready to unwind and spend some quality time with my wife and two young children. The police-band radio was emanating its usual chatter, with patrol officers conducting their routine business of working accidents, taking reports, and making traffic stops. It was business…
