by Reed Sprague
3 JULY 2026
“Your doctor said that you’re not strong enough to attend Mrs. Warwick’s memorial service today, Mr. Briggs,” Katrina, Briggs’ nurse at the hospital rehabilitation center, said to him.
“My doctor must be suffering from dementia or something. Maybe he’s delusional. You need to have him checked. I’ll be attending Eddy’s memorial service if I have to wheel myself down there. River Warwick put off Eddy’s memorial service so that I could be there. I’m not going to ask him to reschedule it.”
Katrina went out to the nurse’s station and explained to the doctor that Briggs was serious, that he would, in fact, wheel himself across town, just as he said he would. Briggs’ doctor shook his head, gave Katrina a few instructions — strict conditions under which Briggs would be allowed to go — and gave his permission for Briggs to attend the service.
“Mr. Briggs, the doctor said you can go.”
“How nice. Okay; now let’s get the hell out of here,” Briggs said.
“Great. I drew the short straw. I have to get you ready to go to the memorial service. You need to cooperate with me. I’m here to help you. You need to remember that,” Katrina said.
“I finally figured out why you’re not married yet.”
“Why is that, Mr. Briggs?”
“You don’t appeal to men for marriage because you get on their nerves with your constant nagging and bitching.”
“Mr. Briggs, you are the most offensive person I have ever met,” Katrina replied. “I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth next. Last week you hurt that nurse’s feelings so bad that she’ll probably never come back to work here or anywhere else.”
“What did I say to her that was so bad?”
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“No. All I remember is that she had bad breath.”
“That’s right. You remember that you believed that she had bad breath. But did you have to tell her that?”
“I tried to be discreet about it by asking her if all the hospital’s vending machines were broken, and suggesting that, even if they were all broken, all she had to do was walk across the street to the pharmacy to get mints,” Briggs said.
“None of us gets paid, you know. The only reason we’re putting up with you is because President Barnes called us personally from Washington and asked that we take good care of you.
“Now listen to me. You’ve managed to offend every doctor, nurse, physical therapist and administrator in this entire building. We are running out of people who will care for you.”
“Why did you have to bring that weasel in here, that administrator? Who cares what he thinks? I know I don’t. Hospitals should be run by doctors and nurses, not administrators.”
“He has a job to do, Mr. Briggs.”
“I was laying here dying, and that cretin asked me to show him my health insurance card. Then he lectured me about the hospital’s liability insurance policy rules about weapons. I figured he would go after my gun, and I was right. He said that I would not be allowed to have my gun with me in the room. Then he said that my hat needed to be cleaned before I could keep it in here with me. I should’ve thrown him out the window.”
“You almost did throw him out the window, Mr. Briggs. Now please, you have got to settle down. I have to leave in a few minutes. I have been working fifteen hours without a break,” Katrina said.
“Where are you going? You can’t leave. You’re the only one around here who knows what you’re doing.”
“We have a new nurse coming in who will go with you to Mrs. Warwick’s memorial service.”
“I want to meet her first. I have to make sure that she knows what she’s doing and that she has at least some brains.”
“She’ll be here in a few minutes. Try to act as if you have some minimum level of good manners when she gets here. She’s fresh out of nursing school. Graduated last month. And she’s the only one on staff who agreed to work with you.”
“She’s probably mean, incompetent and stupid. A rare unassisted triple play,” Briggs said, under his breath.
Briggs’ new nurse, Sandra Brown, walked into the room and introduced herself. She was an unassisted triple play, alright. Briggs was speechless. He searched and searched, but he couldn’t find a category for her. She had one for him, though, but she was too shy to tell him about it. He was in a blank stare when Katrina walked back into the room.
“Mr. Briggs. Mr. Briggs. You can pick your eyes up off of the floor now, Mr. Briggs,” Katrina said, as she tried to get Briggs to focus on something other than Sandra’s large brown eyes and gorgeous face.
“Hi Mr. Briggs,” Sandra said, in an angel’s voice, that floated just above a whisper. “The medical transport people will be here in a few minutes to place us together into the back of the ambulance, to take us to the memorial service. Are you ready to go with me?”
Briggs would have gone with Sandra up to the roof of the hospital and jumped off if she had asked. The other nurses and doctors had never seen anything like it in their lives. Watching Briggs’ behavior in front of Sandra was like watching Lucifer turn into an angel of light.
The medical transport personnel drove Briggs and Sandra to the church entrance, removed Briggs from the ambulance and secured him in his wheelchair. Sandra pushed him inside the church, and on up to the front so he could greet River. The front of the church was covered with flowers. To the right of Eddy’s urn was a large piece of poster board with many pictures of Eddy taken throughout the years. Her baby picture was there, the one that so captured Briggs the first time he saw it in River and Eddy’s apartment.
Back from the front of the church walked al Qatari, directly toward Briggs’ wheelchair. The two hugged, sort of the way two grizzlies would hug. Al Qatari then stepped back slightly. Briggs pulled back the left side of his coat, exposing his Smith & Wesson to al Qatari. “Just in case we need to protect everyone here,” Briggs said. Al Qatari laughed. Briggs smiled slightly.
Then they both realized why they were there. As the weight of all that had happened pressed down on them, they both began to cry. Then, just as suddenly, they stopped their tears and dried their eyes before anyone could see them, especially Sandra. They were unable to hide their tears from her, though. She noticed before they could dry their eyes.
Briggs asked Sandra if she would wheel him up to the poster board. He needed to get as close as possible, he said. Sandra positioned the wheelchair sideways, next to the poster board. Briggs reached into his pocket and removed a picture of Daniella and a thumbtack. He placed Daniella’s picture to the left of Eddy’s baby picture. It was as if the two pictures were of the same baby, except that one was African–American and the other Caucasian.
The resemblance was eery: two pictures of two babies, at approximately the same age, both with Menkes disease, and their little faces and hair disfigured as only Menkes disease can do. One survived and flourished because of smart people; the other died a tiny girl because of dumb people.
Briggs had not been allowed to attend Daniella’s memorial service. He was too young, his family decided at the time. He never forgot that he had not been allowed to pay his respects to the baby sister he loved so much. He would not be denied this time.
The church was all set for Eddy’s memorial service. Several thousand were in attendance. River was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love. President Barnes and Vice President Carr were there, as was Speaker Perez and Senator Milton, and the entire group who participated in the mission to bring down Peterson. Hancock and Brighton each had a film crew in the church to broadcast the service live.
During River’s many trips away throughout the years, serving his country as an agent of the USFIA, Eddy had been living a selfless life, devoted to those in need. Throughout her young adult life, she had gathered many friends, from all walks of life, who loved her dearly. Many of them were in attendance.
Eddy’s fellow church members, representatives of the non–profit organiza
tions she served, her neighbors, the woman across town who needed a friend, all were present to bid her farewell, to send her off to heaven. And, of course, Eddy’s parents, Jon and Cynthia, were there with many of Eddy’s other relatives.
It had been nearly three months since Eddy died. Much had happened. River’s love for her had deepened during that time, just has it had each day before that, going all the way back to the first time he laid his eyes on her. Now she was gone.
River approached the pulpit, removed his notes from his coat pocket, and began the eulogy, “A few months before Jennifer Edward ‘Eddy’ Warwick died, she lost her sister, Emily, to cancer. Eddy and her sister loved each other. They shared each other’s secrets. The tribulations of one became the battles of the other. Like Eddy, Emily was a lovely person, filled with a bright spirit, secure in the future, and confident that virtue would always win out over evil.
“Emily taught Eddy that virtue will win out over evil, and Eddy taught us that it will. Virtue will win out over evil, Emily and Eddy believed — not because there are some unattainable qualities about virtue that make it so powerful — but because, very simply, virtue is good and evil is bad. Both Emily and Eddy believed that good wins out over bad.
“When I think about what happened to Eddy, the way in which she was taken from us, I am challenged to believe that about virtue. I am challenged to believe that good will win it all. Is it not evidence to the contrary when a person as good as Eddy succumbs to death the way she did? Is Eddy’s death not prima fascia evidence that bad wins? And what about Emily? When a person so lovely, vibrant and giving dies at such a young age, and of such a hideous disease, is that not proof that bad can be victorious?
“The person most responsible for Eddy’s death, the person who participated in the most evil acts I can imagine, an FBI agent named Frederic Hernandez, has asked us if we will allow him to defeat evil with virtue. What would you have me tell him in response? He has asked to be forgiven for what he did to Eddy. He has asked that goodness, in the form of forgiveness, be extended to him in exchange for his acts of evil.
“The problem for me with Mr. Hernandez’s proposition is the same as it is for each of you. The reality of life is that good people sometimes endure the pains of evil. Sometimes good loses to bad, and we have to accept that. And sometimes good people do bad things, at times out of jealousy, greed, or simply because they choose bad over good. And here’s the part we really have difficulty facing: Sometimes good people do bad things because they became joined together with flawed institutional logic. They’re good people who are told to participate in bad things by the leaders of the institutions they are sworn to serve.
“Frederic Hernandez did very bad things because he was acting at the request of an institution he believed could do no wrong. When he realized the extent of the evil he had become a part of, he wanted redemption and forgiveness, so he did something extraordinary. He set out to make things right. He faced what he did and he attempted to make it right. Eddy would have wanted him to receive forgiveness — a full pardon.”
River hesitated, awkwardly, as he felt hot vomit rushing up from his stomach. He forced it back down. “I, too, want Mr. Hernandez to receive a full pardon. He’s gone now. He gave his life helping to rescue the two little children he kidnaped. Mr. Hernandez refused to allow his evil act to be overcome with evil. He attempted to overcome his own evil with good. I have never known of a person who did that. I forgive him for what he did to Eddy, to me, and to my twins, and I encourage you all to forgive him as well.
“We Americans have to consider for redemption even greater sins than Mr. Hernandez’s against my family. You see, Mr. Hernandez was the single person most responsible for the atomic blast at Crimpton, Idaho, that killed more than seven thousand Americans and that ultimately led to the nuclear war that nearly led to worldwide nuclear holocaust. The questions, then, are: ‘Do we believe in forgiveness and redemption?’ ‘For the person who caused the death of one and the kidnaping of two?’ ‘If so, what about the massive suffering and huge loss of life caused by the blast at Crimpton, including the resulting bombing of Pakistan and the Ten Minute Nuclear War?’ ‘Is that all too big for virtue to cover?’
“As we Americans contemplate Independence Day tomorrow, we need to ask ourselves what we stand for. Do we stand for vengeance? War? Forgiveness? Wrath? Virtue?
“To begin to understand all of this we have to reject the notion that good will lose the war against evil just because it loses a battle here and there. Make no mistake about it, good won’t lose the war. In the end, good will be victorious.
“In order for virtue to win, it must choose good and then it must remain good. That’s the secret. That was Eddy’s secret. And that is the secret that will raise America from the ashes, ascending her to heights never before imagined.
“Virtue must practice good in the face of a tidal wave of evil. Virtue’s only chance for total victory is in its persistence. Virtue can’t give up. Bad can move on—on to its next target, its next victim. But in order for virtue to receive the trophy, it must hang in there even after the most severe setbacks.
“I want to tell you a very personal story that will illustrate the virtue that Eddy believed in, that she practiced each day of her life. Please allow me to share personal financial details of our lives that are not normally shared during a eulogy.
“When Emily died, Eddy received life insurance proceeds of five hundred thousand dollars. Eddy and I had planned to sell our small apartment and use the money from the sale, combined with Eddy’s life insurance proceeds from Emily, to purchase our dream house. Our future was set. I spent a great deal of time away working for the government, so Eddy and I were not able to search for a home. Eddy was patient. Many spouses would not have been so understanding, but Eddy had faith that we would one day own a nice home. She remained steadfast.
“After Eddy died, I discovered that the money she received had been spent; all the money was gone—five hundred thousand dollars, gone! Eddy spent it all. Her dream home, gone. In her papers I found an accounting of the expenditures, complete with receipts and meticulous ledgers. I also found that she spent none of the money on herself. She spent none of it on me or on our children.
“Eddy had decided to provide food and shelter for those less fortunate than she. She considered our little apartment to be a blessing. She often said that she felt greedy when she prayed about us getting a dream home. ‘What about the hundreds of millions throughout the world who live in cardboard shacks?’ Eddy often wondered aloud.
“What I discovered was that Eddy had taken it upon herself to spend the life insurance proceeds on food and housing for pregnant teenage girls who had been abandoned, first by their baby’s father, and then by their parents, and even by their communities and their churches. I found receipts totaling one hundred fifty thousand dollars for various payments for rent, utilities, baby food, doctor bills, and more—all paid on behalf of these young girls, so that they could receive some kind of dignified beginning with their babies. Few knew of Eddy’s generosity and sacrifice. Only the young, desperate pregnant girls and a handful of others knew what Eddy had done on behalf of those less fortunate.
“Eddy’s generosity and empathy were contagious. Mr. Antonio Rodriguez, our real estate agent, is with us here today. Mr. Rodriguez told me just a few moments ago that he was challenged by Eddy to give himself away at a time in his life when he had nothing to give. Eddy had that effect on people. She challenged us to do better even when we believed that we could not do any better.
“Several of you here today received the care I’m speaking of. Others of you might be at least a little bit embarrassed for me, or perhaps you feel sorry that I am not living in Eddy’s and my dream home, and that the money is gone. Don’t be embarrassed for me. Don’t be sorry for me. Eddy’s legacy is intact—her legacy speaks for the person she was. Her legacy speaks loud and clear. It speaks that she was a person of the highest moral and ethical standard, that
she cared more for the hurting than she did for money, and that she would rather give to the needy than receive a life of excess.
“When I think of Eddy’s legacy, I’m reminded of our nation and our world today. Evil is everywhere. It seems that we’re losing. Our nation is not here any longer. It died. Eddy is not here anymore. She died. Still, virtue can’t give up. This nation has a legacy of goodness. We Americans cannot give up just because much was lost. The legacy Eddy leaves us is like the legacy of the former United States. The former U.S. is gone. But its legacy will cause a new America to rise from the ashes of the sacrificial fires of satanic evil rites that provided the perverted celebrations for the demons who had their way for a short while.
“But now it’s over for those demons. God is in control again. The legacy of the United States will be the foundation for a new United States. Eddy’s legacy will live on through me, through you, and, more than anything else, through our twins.
“Eddy is gone from this earth, but she is present with God. God gave Eddy a legacy. Her legacy can be used to drive us all forward, never giving up, because Eddy taught us that the only permanent defeat is found in surrendering to evil. Eddy’s God never surrendered to evil, and neither did Eddy. And neither should anyone in this room.”
River and Eddy finally returned to witness its monotony again. It had been years, but its sameness still comforted River, just as he and Eddy had been comforted again and again by it so many years ago. River pushed the twins’ stroller out to the edge of the water, locked the wheels, and stood facing the vast Gulf of Mexico. Eddy Jr. seemed enamored with the event; River Jr. slept soundly. He enjoyed his naps.
River gently placed the large, pink hibiscus flower, stem down, into the water, unscrewed the lid to the stainless steel mini urn, as he called it, gently grasped a pinch of Eddy’s ashes, sprinkled them over the big pedals of the flower, and carefully pushed the beautiful bloom out into the water. The flower was caught by the outward flow, and River watched closely as it was carried out to the east, toward the west coast of Florida, an area that Eddy loved so much. Soon Eddy’s flower was a dot in River’s sight.