Where'd You Go, Bernadette
Page 15
2. Mr. Koenig reports that he checked the registration list and found Room 1602 to be unoccupied.
3. Mr. Koenig reports that when he conveyed the above information to Ms. Griffin, she became irate and demanded that he investigate in person.
4. Mr. Koenig reports that upon exiting the elevator on the 16th floor, he heard loud voices, laughter, rap music, and what he described as “partying.”
5. Mr. Koenig reports that he detected traces of smoke and an uncharacteristic odor in the hallway, which in his opinion was “weed.”
6. Mr. Koenig reports that he tracked the noise and smell to Room 1605.
7. Mr. Koenig reports that he knocked on the door and identified himself, at which time the music was turned off and all noise ceased. The momentary silence was followed by giggling.
8. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin, wearing a hotel robe, approached him in the hallway and strongly suggested he was knocking on the wrong door, as Room 1605 belonged to her son, Kyle, who was asleep.
9. Mr. Koenig reports that after he explained to Ms. Griffin that Room 1605 was the source of the noise, she then expressed her low opinion of him, using words such as “idiot,” “moron,” and “incompetent dummy.”
10. Mr. Koenig reports that he advised Ms. Griffin of Westin policy regarding verbal abuse. Ms. Griffin then expressed her low opinion of the Westin facility with terms such as “dump,” “fleabag,” and “pig hole.”
11. Mr. Koenig reports that while Ms. Griffin’s negative assessment continued, her husband, WARREN GRIFFIN, appeared in the hallway, squinting and wearing boxer shorts.
12. Mr. Koenig reports that Mr. Griffin’s attempts to quiet his wife were met with resistance and verbal abuse.
13. Mr. Koenig reports that while in the process of trying to quiet both husband and wife, Mr. Griffin belched, emitting a “nasty stench.”
14. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin “got in her husband’s face” regarding his abuse of alcohol and insatiable appetite for steak.
15. Mr. Koenig reports that Mr. Griffin went back inside Room 1601 and slammed the door.
16. Mr. Koenig reports that while Ms. Griffin was engaged in stating her extreme displeasure with “the person who invented alcohol” to the closed door of 1601, he stuck his master key in the lock of 1605.
17. Mr. Koenig reports that “out of nowhere, my head jerked back” because “that crazy bitch” (Ms. Griffin) had grabbed hold of his hair and yanked, causing him distress and pain.
18. Mr. Koenig reports that he radioed for Seattle PD, and while he was on the radio, Ms. Griffin entered Room 1605 and emitted a scream.
19. Mr. Koenig reports that he entered Room 1605 and counted nine individuals: Ms. Griffin’s son, KYLE GRIFFIN, and assorted Seattle street youth.
20. Mr. Koenig reports that he observed a variety of drug paraphernalia, including, but not limited to, “bongs, bindles, rolling papers, prescription drug bottles, roach clips, one-hitters, pinchies, rigs, works, spoons, and an ‘epic vape.’ ” A visual scan of the room indicated no controlled substances other than “shake and seeds on the mini-fridge.”
21. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin commenced approximately five minutes of hysterically expressing disappointment at her son’s choice of friends.
22. Mr. Koenig reports that the subdued response on the part of Kyle Griffin and his companions indicated that “they were totally wasted.”
23. Mr. Koenig reports that Ms. Griffin suddenly lunged at a girl with a teddy bear safety-pinned to the back of the her jacket.
NARRATIVE CONTINUATION BY OFFICER:
Upon arrival, I identified myself as Seattle PD. I attempted to pull Ms. Griffin off the teddy bear, which appeared to be causing her acute distress. I informed Ms. Griffin that if she did not lower her voice and step into the hallway with me, I would have to put her in handcuffs. Ms. Griffin started screaming at me with profanity, “I’m a model citizen. These druggies are the ones breaking the law and corrupting my son.” I grabbed hold of her left arm. Ms. Griffin screamed profanities at me while I placed her in handcuffs. Ms. Griffin attempted to pull away, saying, “Take your damn hands off me, you can’t touch me, I didn’t do anything wrong.” She threatened that her husband was a DA and she would use the hotel’s video surveillance to prove I was holding her in custody without probable cause and she would make sure the video was “all over the evening news.” I explained that she was only being temporarily detained while I attempted to ascertain what was going on. Two backup security officers arrived and, with the assistance of my partner, Officer Stanton, escorted the non–hotel residents off the premises. At that point, the complainant related the hair-pulling incident. Ms. Griffin strenuously denied it. I asked Mr. Koenig if he wished to press charges. Ms. Griffin interjected sarcastically, to the effect of “Whoop-de-doo, it’s my word against his. Who is a judge going to believe? The wife of a DA or the crowned king of the pig hole?” Mr. Koenig stated that he did wish to press charges.
Based on the information above, I, Officer Phil Bradstock, ask that the defendant be made to answer to the charges.
*
From: Audrey Griffin
To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
Hello, stranger! It turns out you were right. Hotel living has finally lost its luster. I’m taking you up on your offer to host us chez Lee-Segal. Don’t worry! I know you’re busy with your big new job, and I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.
I looked for you at drop-off today. Lincoln told me you’re working such long hours you don’t even have a Christmas tree! I’m going to swing by my garage and grab my bins of decorations. I’ll have your house trimmed by the time you return. Don’t try to stop me. You know Christmas is my favorite holiday!
How’s this for irony? Remember when you were divorcing Barry, and Warren handled the whole thing for you gratis, saving you thirty thousand dollars? Remember when you literally sobbed in gratitude, promising you’d make it up to us? Here’s your chance! I’ll let myself in with the key under the cupid.
One question. What do you want for dinner? I’m going to have a feast waiting when you get home.
Blessings, you!
*
From: Elgin Branch
To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
I realize that everything you just learned in that meeting with Agent Strang was an awful lot to lay on you, way outside your job description. But I was completely overwhelmed and couldn’t face that briefing alone. As stunned as I was, and as stunned as I still am, I’m also incredibly grateful that Agent Strang finally allowed you to be present. I’m even more grateful to you for standing by my side.
*
Handwritten note from Soo-Lin
Elgie,
My job is to see that S2 runs smoothly. Knowing the particulars of your situation allows me to better perform my job. I am honored you trust me. I promise I won’t let you down. From here on, let’s not correspond electronically about B.
SL
*
Handwritten answer from Dad
Soo-Lin,
I just got off the phone with Dr. Kurtz. If “harm to others” is one of the requirements, we have it in spades, with Audrey Griffin’s foot and the mudslide. B’s talk of overdosing on pills surely constitutes “harm to self.” Dr. Kurtz is coming by tomorrow to discuss committing Bernadette.
EB
*
From: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
To: SAMANTHA 2 TEAM (Undisclosed Recipients)
EB will be dealing with a personal matter that requires his full attention. All meetings to go forward as scheduled. EB to be kept apprised electronically.
Thanks!
*
From: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
To: Audrey Griffin
NOT A GOOD TIME for you to stay with us. Emergency at work. I’ve already paid Maura to pick up Lincoln and Alexandra from school and stay through the week. She’s in the spare bedroom. I’m so, so sorry. Maybe a different hotel? A short-term rental house? I’ll help you loo
k.
*
From: Audrey Griffin
To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
I called Maura and told her you wouldn’t be needing her. She moved back to her apartment.
Your home looks fantastic. The inflatable Santa is waving hello to the passersby, and the windowsills are edged with “snow.” Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus are stuck in the lawn, along with my sign, WE SAY MERRY CHRISTMAS. I should be the one thanking you.
*
From Dad to the dean of admissions at Choate
Dear Mr. Jessup,
As you know, I received a letter from Hillary Loundes regarding Bee’s acceptance to Choate next fall. When I first read Ms. Loundes’s suggestion that Bee skip a grade, my instinct was to say no. However, Ms. Loundes’s wise words have stayed with me. I now concur that it is in Bee’s best interest that her immersion in Choate’s academic abundance commence immediately. Since Bee is currently working beyond the third-form level, I ask that you consider admitting her this January—yes, in a month—as a third-former.
If my memory serves me, at Exeter there were always students who left midyear and others who took their place. If we are to proceed, I’d like to start with the paperwork as quickly as possible, so Bee’s transition can be a smooth one. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Elgin Branch
*
From Dad to his brother
From: Elgin Branch
To: Van Branch
Van,
I hope this finds you well. I know it’s been a while since we spoke, but a family emergency has come up, and I was wondering if you could come to Seattle on Wednesday and stay a couple of days. I’ll send you a ticket and get you a hotel room. Let me know.
Thanks,
Elgie
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 21
A flurry of emails between Uncle Van and Dad
Elgie,
Ahoy there, stranger. Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to your parts. Christmas is a busy time for me. Let’s take a rain check. (You probably hear that a lot in Seattle.)
Mahalo,
Van
*
Van,
Maybe I didn’t make it clear. This is an emergency involving my family. I’ll cover all costs and any lost wages. The dates are Dec. 22 through Dec. 25.
*
Bro,
Maybe I was the one who didn’t make it clear. I have a life in Hawaii. I have responsibilities. I can’t hop on a plane just because you decide to grace me with your first email in five years and invite me to spend Christmas in a hotel.
*
Van,
You’re a fucking house sitter. Bernadette is sick. Bee doesn’t know. I need you to spend the day with Bee while I get Bernadette help. I know we’ve lost touch, but I want Bee to be with family. I apologize if the hotel offer appeared brusque. My house is a shambles. The guest room has been boarded up for years because of a hole in the floor that nobody bothered to repair. It all relates to Bernadette’s illness. Come on.
*
Elgie,
I’ll do it for Bee. Book me on the direct flight out of Kona. There’s one first-class seat left, and it would be sweet if you could nab it. There’s a Four Seasons that shows availability in junior suites facing the water. I found someone to cover for me so there’s no rush flying me back.
*
Authorization Request Submitted by Dr. Janelle Kurtz
REQUEST TO BILL FOR OFF-ISLAND APPOINTMENT
RE: BERNADETTE FOX/ELGIN BRANCH
Bernadette Fox was brought to my attention on December 12. Her husband, Elgin Branch, a friend of board member Hannah Dillard, wrote me a long-winded and highly emotional letter inquiring about involuntary commitment (Attachment #1).
Mr. Branch’s description of his wife suggested social anxiety, medication-seeking behavior, agoraphobia, poor impulse control, untreated postpartum depression, and possible mania. If I were to take him at his word, I’d posit a dual diagnosis of substance abuse and bipolar type two.
I wrote back to Mr. Branch, explained the law, and suggested his wife seek therapy (Attachment #2).
Yesterday I received a call from Mr. Branch requesting a face-to-face meeting. He spoke of new developments with his wife, including suicidal ideation.
I find Mr. Branch’s call curious, if not suspicious, for the following reasons.
1. TIMING: In my reply to Mr. Branch, I spelled out that in order to have his wife involuntarily committed, she would have to prove imminently harmful to herself or others. Within days, he claims to be in possession of such evidence.
2. RESISTANCE TO SEEK THERAPY: Mr. Branch seems fixated on having Ms. Fox committed at Madrona Hill. Why wouldn’t he first seek outpatient therapy for his wife?
3. SECRECY: Mr. Branch refuses to divulge specific information over the phone, instead insisting we meet in person.
4. URGENCY: On the phone today, Mr. Branch begged me to see him immediately, ideally at his office.
Taken together, I have reason to question Mr. Branch’s motives and credibility. However, I feel I must follow up. Madrona Hill has twice been notified of Ms. Fox’s behavior. Since suicide was explicitly mentioned, it is now a matter of liability. Further, Mr. Branch’s tenacity suggests he will not stop contacting me until we meet.
I will be in Seattle lecturing at the UW. I have arranged to meet Mr. Branch at his office this evening. I recognize that this is an unusual arrangement, but I am happy to make the extra effort for the friend of a board member. My hope is to convince Mr. Branch to look elsewhere for more appropriate treatment for his wife.
I told him my rate was $275/hr plus time and a half for travel. He understands that we do not bill insurance and that my trip to his office is most likely not covered.
*
From: Audrey Griffin
To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
Hey you! I got gingerbread houses to decorate after school. When will you be home? I want to know when to pop the roast in the oven.
*
From: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
To: Audrey Griffin
As I said, I’m superbusy at work, so I won’t be back for dinner. But my mouth is watering just thinking about your famous roast!
*
From: Audrey Griffin
To: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
Don’t think I can’t take a hint. How about I get in my car and deliver you a plate myself?
*
From: Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
To: Audrey Griffin
How about you don’t? Thanks, though!
*
That Tuesday, I was in my room doing homework when the phone rang twice, which meant someone was at the gate, and which also signaled dinner. I pushed *7 to open the gate, then went downstairs and met the courier. I was psyched to see he had bags from Tilth. I brought the food to the kitchen. Dad was standing there, grinding his jaw.
“I thought you were working,” I said. The last couple of nights he hadn’t come home, and I figured he was pulling all-nighters because of Antarctica.
“I want to see how you’re faring,” he said.
“Me?” I said. “I’m fine.”
Mom came in from the Petit Trianon and kicked off her rain boots. “Hey, look who’s home! I’m glad. I ordered too much food.”
“Hi, Bernadette.” Dad didn’t hug Mom.
I peeled back the edges of the take-out containers and set them in front of our chairs at the kitchen table.
“Let’s do plates tonight.” Mom got china from the pantry, and I slid the food onto the nice dishes.
But Dad just stood there, his parka zipped. “I have some news. Van is coming tomorrow.”
Uncle Van was my only uncle and therefore my favorite uncle. Mom had a nickname for him, which was Van “Are You Going to Eat the Rest of That?” Branch. He lives in Hawaii, in a caretaker’s cottage on a huge estate that belongs to a Hollywood movie producer. The Hollywood producer was hardly ever there, but he must have OCD because he pays Va
n to go to the house every day and flush the toilets. The Hollywood producer also has a house in Aspen, and one winter the pipes froze and the toilets overflowed and wrecked a bunch of antiques so he’s totally paranoid about it happening again, even though pipes can’t freeze in Hawaii. So, as Mom likes to point out, Van flushes toilets for a living. Once we went to Hawaii, and Van took me on a tour of the estate and let me flush the toilets, which was funny.
“What’s Van coming here for?” I asked.
“Good question.” Mom was now standing frozen, the same as Dad.
“A visit,” Dad said. “I thought he could dog-sit while we were away. Why, Bernadette? Do you have a problem with that?”
“Where’s he going to stay?” Mom asked.
“The Four Seasons. I’m going to pick him up at the airport tomorrow. Bee, I’d like you to come with me.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m going to see the Rockettes Christmas show with Youth Group.”
“His plane gets in at four,” Dad said. “I’ll pick you up at school.”
“Can Kennedy come?” I said, and added a big smile.
“No,” he said. “I don’t like being in the car with Kennedy. You know that.”
“You’re no fun.” I threw him my meanest Kubrick face and started eating.
Dad stomped into the living room, the door banging against the counter. A second later came a thud, followed by swearing. Mom and I ran in and turned on the lights. Dad had crashed into a ton of boxes and suitcases. “What the hell is all this crap?” he asked, jumping up.
“It’s for Antarctica,” I said.
UPS boxes had been arriving at a terrifying clip. Mom had three packing lists taped to the wall, one for each of us. All the boxes were half-opened and spilling with parkas, boots, gloves, and snow pants, in various stages of unwrap, hanging out like tongues.
“We’ve pretty much got everything.” Mom stepped expertly among the boxes. “I’m waiting on zinc oxide for you.” She pointed her foot in the direction of one huge black duffel. “I’m trying to find Bee one of those face masks in a color she likes—”