By 9:30 a.m., July 23, 2015, Dr. Clark was dressed in his scrubs, rubber gloves snapped over each hand. Carefully inspecting Mary from head to toe, Clark went through every square inch of the body, looking for outward signs of trauma. He quickly assessed that the bruising, scrapes, and minor cuts on Mary’s body, which were visible to the naked eye, had been caused by the intensity of treatment she endured while in the ICU. Each Code Blue and the chaos of trying to revive her had left injuries all over Mary’s body.
Clark then took a large scalpel and made a deep incision in the shape of a Y, starting at Mary’s shoulders, slicing down her upper abdomen (chest region), before concluding vertically just above her pubis. “And then we simply open the body cavity, take off the rib cage, and we just look at everything as it is, before we do anything.”
With Mary’s innards exposed, Clark noticed several anomalies, which he noted aloud into a recording device. “Most striking abnormality is the color of her intestinal tract.”
Clark had conducted over one thousand autopsies by the time Mary’s body was on a slab, filleted open in front of him. In a large number of those autopsies, he added, “organs tend to be certain colors and consistencies.”
Not Mary’s, however.
“I’d never seen this mottled red, green, purple.”
Clark found it to be “very bizarre.” At first glance, he didn’t know what to make of it. “I had never seen anything like it.”
He focused on Mary’s liver. “Some discoloration. Also a mottled appearance.” By “mottled,” Clark meant a homogenous brown, which is a normal conditional change that takes place after death. Mary’s liver, though, also exhibited patches of staining, large spots—all were a marked, different, darker color.
The heart was also an odd color, unlike what Clark had been used to seeing. Those organs were mild, however, when compared to the gastrointestinal tract, which Clark looked at next. Taking Mary’s colon and digestive tract in hand, staring at it under the bright spotlight above, Clark was astonished by what he saw.
Taking a moment, he wanted to make sure he was actually seeing what was in front of him.
27
FOR MARY YODER, PLANTS and pottery were, in many ways, her life. Mary maintained a large garden in the back of the home, with beds and flowers spread all about the yard, front and back. Everything was laid out in perfect rows, green beans and squash over there, corn and flowers here, tomatoes and peppers lined up like soldiers. Mary’s garden was spread throughout the yard in clusters to beautify, as well as a means of growing organic produce.
One of her favorite things to do every fall was purchase a bucket of bulbs and plant them all around the yard. The joy came when spring hit and she’d forgotten where she’d planted each one. Mary and Bill would marvel some mornings in spring at where the blooms had poked up through the soil: explosions of colors, like fireworks, then tall and healthy plants. Her front-yard displays of flowers actually drew people from town to drive by the house for a glimpse.
“Even now,” Bill said, “I see those bulbs pop out of the ground. With Mary gone, there she is. There is her work, her passion.” Mary left her mark on the world as her plants rose up through the earth to beautify the community she’d lived in all her life.
Important to Mary, all of her plants and their plant products had to be organic: the fertilizer, the soil, the bug sprays. She did not want any toxicity anywhere near her plants, family, or herself. Not even the slight chance of it.
Since the Yoders were doctors who ran a practice, medical and medicinal salespeople would visit the office, peddling various health products to display and sell. Bill passed it all on to Mary, who took the time to check out the products. Nothing seemed to impress Mary much, or meet her specifications of organic, healthy living. Then a Shaklee rep walked in one day. Everything about Shaklee met Mary’s needs and, more important, her standards. She believed Shaklee products were healthy and organic. Moreover, the quality control of the company was something Mary had looked into and perceived as top-notch.
Heading into the summer of 2014, Mary suggested split shifts, which she and Bill ended up agreeing to. Because of Mary’s maternity leaves and other life interruptions, Bill had worked more hours in the thirty-year practice. Mary put in lots of time, but Bill helmed the practice for the most part as they raised a family.
“You’ve worked so long, Bill. You’re moving toward retirement,” Mary said. “I’ll pick up the extra time.”
Bill considered it to be just one more of Mary’s delightful, loving gestures. He was nearly ten years older. Tired. A chiropractic practice is demanding work, physically. Bill and Mary could never shut down for more than five or six days because their patients depended on them always being there. After Katie came on board in 2011, Bill had mainly dealt with insurance companies and the bookwork, along with seeing a certain number of patients every week. It was a natural progression for Mary to take over most of the chiropractic work as Bill moved toward retirement.
“Mary had a rocket on her back,” Bill recalled.
Nothing stopped the woman. She woke in the morning and began her day, buzzing around from one task to the next like a thirty-year-old, right up until the day she became ill. Mary Yoder was full of life and energy, never sitting down for more than a few minutes. She had a lust for life, and for the wellness of others. This made her sudden death especially confusing for all those who were close to her.
* * *
BILL YODER WAS NOT functioning normally during those immediate days after his wife died. Having his family around was not only important, but a blessing, Bill later shared. It was specifically true as he began to mourn and accept Mary’s death.
July 25, 2015, was Liana’s daughter’s second birthday. It was also the day the Yoder family had chosen to honor Mary with a Celebration of Life. Her body had not yet been released by the ME, but Mary had requested cremation, so the celebration was planned for Mary’s friends and family to pay their respects and remember this great woman. Liana, Tammy, and Adam took over most of the planning. Katie stepped up and said she’d help anyway they needed.
They were not about to call this “a wake” or “a funeral.” The focus would be on the wonderful human being Mary was, the goodness and humility she’d brought to life and those around her.
“Always very welcoming—she treated you really like one of her family,” Deborah Weiss, a ten-year patient, later said.
Since Mary’s garden was in full bloom, the family decided to have the gathering at the house.
“I’m just going to stay upstairs,” Bill told Liana and several other family members before the celebration. Katie was on hand all day. She’d stuck close by Adam’s side since Mary’s death. She’d even gone out and picked up hundreds of dollars’ worth of food and beverages for the celebration.
“I just can’t face seeing people and talking to them,” Bill continued. “I don’t want a receiving line or anything.”
The guy was devastated. The woman he saw himself spending his retirement with had disappeared. It had all happened so fast. Bill did not know what to do with all the pain.
Mary and Bill’s former secretary, who had heard about Mary’s death from the family, called Sharon Groah the day before the celebration. Sharon was a longtime client and Mary’s good friend.
“Are you sitting down?” Mary’s former secretary asked Sharon.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want you to know that Mary is gone.”
“Gone where?” Sharon wondered.
“No, she passed away.”
“I was just at the office! I just saw her. What do you mean? How?”
The former secretary explained all the details she knew at the time.
Sharon broke down. She could not fathom a world in which Mary was not present. They had shared so much. As she took it in, trying to accept the loss, three hours later, she received a call from Katie.
“Mary passed, Sharon. I’m so sorry.”
&nb
sp; Katie could be extremely introverted, Sharon recalled. From Sharon’s point of view, the dynamic between Katie and Mary was much more than employee/boss. Many times throughout the day, Mary would walk by Katie, place her hand on Katie’s arm, and say, “You look nice today. How are you? What’s going on that I can help you with?”
They loved each other, Sharon said. “No doubt about it.”
“I heard, Katie,” Sharon responded. “I cannot believe it. Just so shocked and in pain. Thank you for calling.”
“There will be a Celebration of Life tomorrow. I am putting it together now with the family. I’ll let you know.”
“I want to bring food,” Sharon said. She and her family were going to a wedding and were not going to make the celebration. But Sharon told Katie she would stop by and drop off the food and pay her respects.
“Aqua Vino is catering the celebration,” Katie said. A staple on Harbor Lock Road in Utica, Mary was friends with just about everyone in the restaurant, many of whom had been patients.
The day of the celebration, Sharon drove over and knocked on the door. She had a plate of food in her hands. Sharon was a mess. Crying. Confused. In mourning. Disbelief. She could not believe Mary Yoder, a bastion of health and good living, was dead. It was as if the soul of the community Sharon was a part of had been stolen.
“Hi,” Sharon said.
Katie answered the door.
Sharon walked into the foyer. Katie hugged her. They looked at each other and cried.
As for Adam, Sharon said, “I know Katie loved Adam and wanted him back whenever they broke up. I think there was a bit of both there in Katie where it pertained to Adam—love and obsession. I do believe she loved him, but I think it became an obsession.”
Sharon found Bill. Hugged him. Said how sorry she was. Bill was “doing what he had to do,” Sharon explained. Obviously devastated and in pain, Bill introduced Sharon to Mary’s sisters, a few others. Sharon apologized for having to run, but she and her husband had a long trip ahead.
Some were looking at Bill with one eyebrow raised, the community itself talking, rumors swirling about. Not necessarily accusing him of anything, but the husband, in such a strange, questionable, untimely death, is always the first to be viewed as someone who might have been involved. If a wife dies and law enforcement blindly arrested the husband, they’d have a five hundred batting average.
“Mary took care of everything,” Sharon explained. “Bill depended on her for everything. God’s angel on Earth—that was my Mary.” Recalling the first time she walked into the office after Mary had passed, Sharon said, “It felt cold. Something was missing, and you could instantly feel it.”
Katie saw Sharon out.
Sharon hugged Katie. “We’re going to be all right. We’ll make it through this.”
“We will,” Katie said in tears.
* * *
DURING THE CELEBRATION, LIANA again suggested to Bill that he should approach her widowed aunt, Kathleen Richmond. Liana knew it would be good for him. Understanding has a way of emerging among people who share common pain.
“You’re not alone, Dad.”
There were “over two hundred people” at the Yoder house celebrating Mary’s life. A table displayed a photo of Mary, a beaming smile across her face. Alongside the photo were pieces of Mary’s favorite art and pottery. Groups of friends and patients and family milled about the house, inside and out. Just about everyone at the celebration approached Bill and wished him well. He appreciated the support. However, as each person came up and offered condolences, he thought, You don’t know what this is like for me.
After talking to Liana about it, Bill felt he could trust Kathleen. She knew what he was feeling. They could relate. Over the past year, Mary and Bill, together, had reconnected with Kathleen. She did not live far away from the Yoder house.
“Can we get together sometime and talk about this?” Bill asked.
“Sure,” Kathleen responded. “Call me, Bill.”
The day after Mary died, Kathleen wrote Bill a lengthy letter. Seeing how distraught he was at the celebration, Kathleen knew Bill was “feeling the grief I remembered so well,” she later explained. Kathleen reached into her purse and took the letter out. “Read it when you have a chance.”
A few days later, Bill called his sister-in-law. They made plans to meet and talk. Before those conversations, Kathleen and Bill had little interaction. Back in May, Bill had sent Kathleen a few links to some grilling gear she’d asked about during a barbeque Mary and Bill hosted at the house. Save for a few e-mails and texts, they had not communicated much.
On July 29, 2015, Bill texted Kathleen. He was thinking about visiting her the following day. “I’m really glad we’ll get a chance to do this. Thank you.”
Kathleen told Bill to send a text when he left the house.
On July 30, at 7:53 a.m., Bill followed up and explained he was heading out soon as he could. They had talked on the phone, and Bill felt a slight touch of hope. He identified with someone who was suffering the same pain.
As he drove down Kathleen’s street, near 10:15 a.m. on July 30, Bill had a hard time figuring out which house she lived in. Mary had always driven. He never paid much attention. He didn’t know exactly which house was Kathleen’s.
He pulled over and sent a text: “I think I passed your house . . . Stand on your porch and wave me down.” Bill included a heart emoji in the text.
Driving again, Bill inched slowly down the street, saw Kathleen, and pulled into her driveway.
Kathleen had a large family reunion to attend in another state, so they had limited time, but Bill stayed for about an hour. It helped. They understood each other. They made plans to get together again soon.
28
FIVE DAYS AFTER THE celebration, Liana left for Long Island. She invited everyone down, including her father. Adam expressed interest in going along. He had nothing happening in town and needed to get away, to be with family. The past week had been a dark and gloomy blur. New surroundings would help.
Adam invited Katie—for company, nothing more. He made himself clear. Liana and Adam, along with Katie, left for Long Island on July 31; Bill departed a day later, August 1. Bill and Adam decided to take off on a trip to the Southwest, and maybe the West Coast, to visit family after staying a few weeks at Liana’s. Bill stressed that being home in Utica was not something he could deal with.
On July 31, Kathleen sent Bill a text: “I’m always here if you want to talk. And it helps me, too. I love you. You’re closer to me than some of my siblings.”
By August 4, 2015, Liana had not heard anything new from the ME’s office. She called and left Dr. Clark a message to call her with an update.
“What’s puzzling is the culture results,” Clark explained when he called back. “We’re not finding any evidence of bacteria.”
The ME’s office had swabbed samples of Mary’s intestinal tract and had tried growing out bacteria in petri dishes, with no results.
Liana was interested in this.
“What’s more,” Clark added, “we received the microslides and it was showing apoptosis, cell death, as you know . . . It is present, moreover, in a picture that goes along with toxic exposure or a toxin versus infectious cause.”
Dr. Liana Hegde now knew that her mother had not died from an infection. Test results proved it.
Clark asked Liana to find out what she could about Mary’s eating and lifestyle habits prior to her death. Had she come in contact with a toxin without realizing it?
Bill, Adam, Tammy, Liana’s husband, and Katie were all present at Liana’s house when this new update came in. Liana hung up and filled everyone in on the news. Mary was poisoned by some type of toxin. She’d regularly taken a large course of supplements. They all talked about it and agreed to have a look at the ingredients of the supplements, to get an idea of the food Mary ate in the days before her death.
Liana also told Dr. Clark she would speak with one of her mother’s closest f
riends. Mary and her BFF alternated gardening duties: One week, they’d work in her BFF’s garden; the next week, it was Mary’s garden.
“They had been doing this for years,” Liana said.
It was also agreed that they’d look into Mary’s gardening habits and what type of pesticides and fertilizer she used.
Clark told the family that the ME’s office was going to run additional tests. Could Mary have mistakenly poisoned herself? Had Adam’s bout with “the flu” and his trip to the ER a few months before Mary’s death been a clue that the family was ingesting a toxin without knowing it?
* * *
AS KATIE AND ADAM headed to Long Island in Adam’s vehicle, they talked, but their conversation had a passive air about it. Adam was in a bad place. Katie did not know how much to pry into his feelings. The one thing she didn’t doubt anymore, however, was their relationship. In her view, it was back on. And the texts they exchanged during this period suggested as much.
As they traveled, Katie asked if she could listen to an audiobook she’d once downloaded onto Adam’s computer.
“Go ahead.”
Katie plugged her iPhone into Adam’s laptop.
Later that week, after Adam left for California with his father, Katie drove Adam’s car back to Utica so she could hold down the office. One of the Yoders’ doctor friends was filling in.
As they split up and went their own ways, Katie texted Adam: “Can you please delete my phone backup?”
When she’d plugged her iPhone into Adam’s laptop, his computer downloaded Katie’s iPhone contents, including the metadata. Adam’s computer now had Katie’s entire phone on his laptop. Not that he could access all of it, but it was there.
“I love you and I trust you like no other,” Katie added. She reiterated her request by explaining how she wanted Adam to one day help her back up her phone contents and manage the phone’s storage. “But I have some things on there [that] other people have trusted with me.”
Adam didn’t respond—and never deleted the backup.
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