by D. B. Carew
He was startled by her sudden appearance from out of nowhere. “Uh ... I can’t ... comment.”
“Is it true that somebody tried to kill you last night?”
“No comment.”
She had hardly waited for his response to her question before lobbing another. “Was last night’s incident related to the Marvin Goodwin case?”
“No comment.“
“Is it true that the body found at Woodland Park is that of Mr. Bianchi’s killer?”
“I’m not answering your questions,” he said in a tired voice.
“Any comment on the speculation that the killer is Marvin’s brother? Was he an accomplice with Marvin in the killing of Mr. Bianchi?”
Chris had had enough. “You need to get your facts straight.”
She gave him a surprised look before responding. “Then why don’t you help me get them straight?”
He looked at her, then stared pointedly at her recorder. She got the message, turned off the recorder, and gave him a puzzled look. “What’s your deal? Do you have something against the media? Or is it personal, against me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been trying forever to get you to talk with me. You haven’t returned my messages.”
“It hasn’t stopped you, has it?”
“I’m a crime reporter, which means I report on crime.”
“I know all about it. You’re just doing your job, performing a public service,” he said sarcastically.
“As a matter of fact, it is a public service. This city, the entire Lower Mainland, for that matter, is gripped by fear over recent violence. People are scared, Mr. Ryder, but they’re also angry and tired of feeling powerless. Look at the take-back-the-streets rally being organized for next week. You of all people should appreciate what I’m talking about. You’ve been involved in incidents that many members of the general public find important and newsworthy: the murder in Woodland Park three months ago, and now this case with Marvin Goodwin. A lot of people would be interested in what you have to say. But you hide behind your hospital’s ‘no comment’ policy or otherwise avoid speaking with me. Can’t you speak for yourself? Don’t you have your own thoughts?”
Chris laughed cynically. “Sure I do. I think that piece you did with Ray Owens was garbage. But it doesn’t matter what I think or say. You’ll still find a way to spin it the way you want, to make it more newsworthy, to sell more papers.”
“So that’s it. It boils down to your biased view of what I do.” She shook her head. “So tell me, then, how have I distorted the truth about the Goodwin case?”
“From the moment he was charged, his story was whittled down to a sensationalist sound bite. It didn’t matter if it was accurate or not, it sounded good, so people ran with it. ‘Crazy man commits brutal murder.’ Do you have any idea how many times that headline has run?”
“Are you saying it’s not true?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say,” he countered in frustration. He tried to organize his thoughts, which he found harder than usual, given his current state of mind. “It’s one part of the story, but no one is ever interested in covering the other parts. The whole story.”
“Try me. What’s so important about Marvin’s case that I’ve ignored?”
She turned her recorder on and pointed it toward Chris. He remained silent. “Here’s your chance,” she prodded. “Nothing? Thought so.”
Chris was through with her provocation and exploded in a torrent of words. “What about the fact that when your story ran, he was made out to be some kind of monster? Everyone instantly feared and hated him, instantly concluded that he was guilty, instantly screamed that he should never have been out on the street in the first place. Well, you know what? It’s true. He shouldn’t have been on the street. He was neglected, never given the help he needed. He fell through the cracks, and no one gave a damn. That is, until he was charged with this crime. And now that the charges against him are going to be dropped, because he’s innocent, no one will give a damn again about what happens to him.
“But he still needs those supports,” he continued. “He still needs residential placement with twenty-four-hour care from trained professionals. But will he get it? Don’t bet on it. He’s gonna be stuck in there —” he pointed to the hospital building “— for God knows how long. But this isn’t the right place for him. He doesn’t belong here, but the right place for him costs too much money, the right group home, with the right staff. So he’ll be here, taking a bed from someone else who desperately needs to be here. So that person waits in jail, where he doesn’t belong.”
He finally took a breath. “But this is complicated. It’s not a simple sound bite, so I don’t see you running with this story.”
“You will now.” She clicked the recorder off.
“Be my guest. I don’t care.”
“It sounds to me like you do care. You care quite a lot.” Her tone softened. “For the record, I’m not proud of my piece on Ray Owens. He managed to manipulate me in our interview.” She paused before continuing. “But I’m not the enemy, Chris.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” He walked away from Lucy, feeling his already low energy draining away.
It was obvious that news of what had happened to him the night before at Woodland Park had circulated through the hospital. He felt the now-familiar and still-uncomfortable sensation of eyes following his every move. Reaction from his colleagues ranged from concern for his welfare to questions about the juicy details of his latest adventure.
He was just getting settled in his office when Gerald appeared at his door. “Holy shit! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m asking myself the same thing.” He told Gerald about his run-in with Lucy in the parking lot.
Gerald whistled. “Lord knows what Florence is gonna do when that crap hits the fan.”
Chris wanted to talk about something else—anything else. “What’s happening with day leaves?”
“I heard Threader the Shredder is going to reinstate them tomorrow. Word is there were no surprises with the internal review. We have sufficient policies and contingency plans in place for patients going into the community.”
“So the protocols were followed when Perry went UA?” Chris asked, although he wasn’t surprised that a review would come to that logical conclusion.
Gerald nodded and smiled. “The Ministry’s happy with the report and public confidence is restored, so it’s a win-win for everyone!”
“I’m not feeling much like a winner right now.”
Gerald grew serious. “No, I guess not. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. But if you want to talk, you know how to reach me, okay?” Chris nodded in agreement. “Well, I’ll let you get caught up.”
To his great surprise, Chris managed to get some paperwork done before ambling over to Dr. Stevenson’s office, where he found her sitting in front of her computer, scrolling through the local CBC website.
“I didn’t expect to see you here today. How do you feel?” She stood up to greet him.
He shrugged. “I’ve been better.”
“Are you sure you should be here? Maybe you should be at home resting?”
“I’d just be staring at the walls all day. Besides, I wanted to hear what’s going on with Marvin.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Of course you do.” Leaning over her keyboard, she surfed through the news items. “I had a call this morning from Marvin’s lawyer informing me that Crown agrees with her recommendation on having the charges against Marvin dropped. Apparently, though, this information has already been leaked to the media. Marvin’s lawyer told me the police will be releasing a statement this morning.”
She looked up over her shoulder at Chris. “Is it true about Marvin’s brother?”
Chris updated her briefly on what had happened at Woodland Park the night before. Their conversation was interrupted by a BREAKING NEWS headline running at the top of the compute
r screen.
“This must be it.” She clicked on the caption and they huddled in front of the monitor to read the statement.
Members of the RCMP responded to a 911 call last night at Woodland Park. When officers arrived, they discovered a body at the scene. The Major Crimes Unit has now taken over this file. The identity of the deceased will not be released until next of kin have been notified.
The statement went on to say that Crown was considering a stay of proceedings in the charges against Marvin Goodwin and that Michael Goodwin was considered a person of interest. Police were appealing to him to contact his local police detachment. The statement also indicated that police were not yet in a position to comment on Chris Ryder’s presence at Woodland Park, other than to clarify that he had cooperated with the investigation and was not considered a person of interest.
Dr. Stevenson closed the site. “Well, it’s good to hear you’re cooperating with the investigation,” she said lightheartedly to Chris. “I’m surprised you haven’t been pursued for an interview.”
“Actually ...” Chris told her about his encounter with Lucy Chen. “It wasn’t one of my brighter moments. I have no idea how it’s going to turn out.”
“Let’s take a look.” Dr. Stevenson logged on to the Tribune’s website and scrolled down until she saw a piece by Lucy Chen reporting on the discovery of the body at Woodland Park the night before.
Chris felt a moment of panic.
They skimmed through the article in silence. Lucy started by saying that the previous evening’s incident at Woodland Park was believed to be related to the Marvin Goodwin case involving the brutal murder of ice cream vendor Alberto Bianchi. She outlined how Marvin Goodwin had initially been charged in connection with that murder.
They then saw that Lucy Chen had filed a secondary story, headlined Marvin Goodwin: From Suspect to Victim. Parts of the story were drawn from Chris’ outburst.
Mr. Goodwin is a young man with complex medical needs, which include severe symptoms of autistic spectrum disorder and intellectual disability. As a result, he experiences significant communication and functioning challenges. It appears that these challenges make Mr. Goodwin an easy target in taking the fall for Mr. Bianchi’s murder.
While the identity of the killer is unknown at this time, what is clear is that it is not Mr. Goodwin. He will receive a stay of proceedings in this criminal matter.
Despite that development, Mr. Goodwin is likely to remain hospitalized at IFP due to a lack of services to meet his special care needs in the community.
Lucy had quoted liberally from her interview with Chris on how Marvin had been “neglected” and “fell through the cracks.” But the article finished with an unexpected turn:
Mr. Goodwin is a prime example of the human cost of cutbacks in funding for clients of Community Living Society, cutbacks that have been directed by the provincial government.
Starting next week, the Vancouver Tribune will be examining these issues in depth, including the role the provincial Ministry of Health has played by clawing back services to this vulnerable population over the last three years.
Chris’ ears were burning as he read the quotes attributed to him. They were accurate renditions of what he had said, but he knew he was going to catch hell from his director for sharing his insights with the media. Still, he’d underestimated Lucy Chen’s integrity. He made a mental note to apologize to her.
Dr. Stevenson must have read his mind. “Ouch, this is not going to go over well with Florence.”
“Don’t suppose it will.”
“But I have to give Lucy credit. She’s done a good job of highlighting the challenges we’re going to have in getting Marvin out of here.”
FORTY-ONE
It would only be a matter of time, Chris knew, before he’d be summoned to Florence’s office to account for his actions.
He realized that he’d made a serious mistake in coming to work today. The events of the last several days had rendered him unprepared to deal with even the daily rigours of his job, let alone the intense pressure he was feeling from the Goodwin case. He was a wreck.
His office phone rang. He figured this was Florence calling and thought of letting the call go to voicemail, but he picked up, realizing there was no point in stalling the inevitable.
“Ryder! How the hell are ya?”
Talking to Ray was the last thing Chris needed right now. His heart pounded and he felt nauseated. But like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn’t resist. “What do you want, Ray?”
“Just checking up on my dear little brother. Heard about your accident at our favourite haunting ground. Haven’t I always said you’re not out of the woods yet?” He guffawed.
Chris was in no mood now for Ray’s games and was seriously considering hanging up.
“I hear you met my lawyer, too. He’s gonna get me out of here. Gonna find me criminally nuts.”
“You’re bluffing, Ray. I know all about your lawyer’s failed attempts at getting a psychiatrist to do an NCR assessment. Meanwhile, the bodies are starting to pile up. Carrier, Goode—and they’re just the ones we know about. If I were you, I’d be worried about your past coming back to haunt you.”
“What are you talking about, Ryder?”
“I’m talking about your foster sister.”
“What about her?”
“I hear Teresa died from a drug overdose a few years back.”
“So what?”
“The police found bruises on her wrist. They didn’t think she was alone at the time of her death.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Ray sounded rattled.
“Who knows? But I wonder what they’d find if they reopened the case and looked at the file with fresh eyes, maybe checking to see whether prints had been taken at the scene, checked for DNA. Little things like that. It’s amazing what technology can do today. But you already know that, considering what they could find on your cellphone. I’ll be interested to see what they come back with when they dig into Teresa’s case.”
“Move on, Ryder. You’re stuck in the past.”
“Pot calling the kettle black, Ray? You blame me for all your problems. You’re the one who can’t let go of the past.”
Silence on the line. Chris waited. He knew Ray would have a comeback. “Well, I guess that’s another tie that binds us, brother dear. And by the time I’m done, you’ll be just like me. Alone. Our old man is off my ‘kick the bucket’ list. Guess who’s next?”
Chris didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. He knew what he wanted to say to Ray, and what he wanted to do to him. But he stopped himself. He’d acted impulsively enough for one day. It was time for a different approach. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Ray.”
“Of course it does. Why would I want it any other way?” Ray sneered.
“Because you have a son.”
“What?”
“So you didn’t know?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Chris thought Ray sounded genuinely surprised. He picked up something else in Ray’s response that he hadn’t observed before: vulnerability. “I don’t know the details, but yeah, you’ve got a son. He’s in the care of the Ministry. The same Ministry you blame for what happened to you. I know about the abuse, Ray: the bedwetting, the strapping, the bullying. What happened to you was wrong. And I know you felt abandoned.”
“Why are you telling me this, Ryder? You think I’m suddenly gonna turn over a new leaf just ’cause I got a runt running around? Life ain’t that simple.”
“I’m not saying it is. It’s hard, and sometimes it’s not fair. But you have the chance to play some kind of role in your son’s life. It could be a positive one, if you tried doing something good with your own life. Starting now.”
“Even if I do have a kid, there’s nothing I can do about it now. There’s no way they’re gonna let me see him. They’re not gonna think I can change, and you don’t, either. Would you trust me with your
daughter?”
Chris said nothing.
“Didn’t think so. I’m not going to change, Ryder. But at least I’m not a hypocrite like you. You talk this shit about the power of change, but when it comes right down to it, you don’t believe it.”
“I believe you can try.”
“I’ll tell you what I believe, Ryder. You’re no different than me, no better than me, and I’m gonna prove it.”
“There’s nothing for you to prove, Ray. I already know where we’re alike. We both had shitty childhoods. I lost my mother, and you were abused in foster care. It’s left a mark on both of our lives.”
“Boo-hoo. Give me a break, Ryder.”
Chris ignored him. “But that’s where the similarity ends. You wanna stay stuck, and mad at the world forever, that’s your decision. But I don’t want to be like you, and I’m going to make sure that never happens. That includes these games. I’m tired of them. You’re taking up too much space in my head and you’re not worth it.”
“You think this is a game, Ryder. Wrong! This is the real deal, and you’d better look over your shoulder, little brother, ’cause before you know it, I’ll be back at your shithole IFP making every day of your pathetic little life a living hell. It’s what I dream about!”
“Well, dream on, Ray. We both know you’re never going to be found NCR. And we both know you’re never coming back to IFP.” He stopped to let his point sink in before delivering his final blow. “And we both know you’re going to be spending a long time in jail. You were right about one thing though. I’ve been stuck in the past. It’s time to move on and leave you behind.” “Your days are numbered, Ryder. You’re my next victim.”
Chris paused for a long moment. “Well, I’m not gonna waste any more of them on you. And I’ll tell you something else. I’m nobody’s victim.”
He hung up. He’d never have thought that ending a phone call could be so gratifying and bring so much closure. But this wasn’t any old phone call: this was Ray Owens. And for the first time in several months Chris felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He was finally ready to leave Ray behind.