Death's Shadow by Jon Wells Page B

message. At one point he looked right back at her, his expression flat.
    The video and photos at the prelim were difficult to watch, but what Cindy would always regret the most was having gone to the morgue to view her sister’s body. Detectives always urge family not to view a loved one in the morgue after a homicide. Family members usually want to feel close to their loved one one final time, but it is never a good idea. It can leave mental scars that never heal. Still, Cindy had insisted. She could never forget how cold it had felt in that room, nor could she ever erase that image of her baby sister.
    After the funeral Cindy had felt some comfort having made sure to provide Jackie with the proper resting place, one she would have wanted. It was right next to their mother, their beloved Bella. Cindy wrote a note to their mom, put it in plastic and buried it with Jackie: “I know you’re waiting for her, so here she is, waiting for your lovely arms.”
    Ashley, Jackie’s eldest child, also attended the preliminary hearing every day.
    Her friends worried about her, worried that she’d be overwhelmed by the stress she was going through. It was true that Ashley had been upset during the investigation. After the police had vacated the Sandbar crime scene, she had sent her boyfriend to check it out for her, look for clues. Crazy, but she couldn’t help it; she had to do something. And if anyone mentioned hearing a rumour about the case, she would corner them, ask them for more information. In court it seemed surreal to her, seeing the crime-scene photos. It was like the victim she was seeing was someone else, not her mother.
    When Jackie was alive, she would give Ashley small gifts here and there. One of them was a Nike T-shirt that Jackie had herself worn. Ashley didn’t think much of the gift at the time, but now she treasured it and wore it often. She never stopped seeing her mom in her dreams. In one of them, Jackie appeared and said to Ashley, “This is the last time you’ll see me.” And Ashley argued with her: “No, Mom, you’re wrong. It’s not.” She kept having that same dream, over and over.
    Ruth and Flavio Del Sordo purchased a plot in the City of Angels cemetery near their home, and a big stone monument as well, for the three of them: Pat, Ruth, and Flavio. They did not want Pat to lie alone; someday they would join him. After Pat’s burial Ruth went to the cemetery two, three times a week. She was unable to stand at the stone, though. It was too emotional. Instead she knelt before it, speaking to her Pasqua, updating him on what was going on.
    Ruth’s sadness never waned and neither did her anger. She lamented aspects of the police investigation and the trial. Justice for Ruth was bitter. Even with the arrest of Carl Hall, she still felt that the system had failed her son, and still believed there had to have been more than one attacker. For the entire family, Pat’s loss remained a wound that did not heal. None of the Del Sordos attended counselling. But Ruth wanted to talk about her son. All her kids were wonderful, but her first-born was a special light, and she would never be the same. When prompted she could barely bring herself to stop talking about her boy: how much he loved his family, life; what a breath of fresh air he was, such a ball of energy; how he was always there for her, a friend and confidant and son all in one. But she could not find many ears close to her to listen. For others in the family, even years after the murder, it remained too raw. It was not a subject to bring up.
    When Pat’s sister got married, Pat’s father, Flavio, could not bring himself to enter the church to go and meet the priest in advance. He had not been a consistent churchgoer before his son’s death, and after the murder he had lost his faith entirely. God had let him down. Ruth? She still had faith, but it prompted more questions than she could answer. If God willed all, if everything happened for a