Day of the Dead

by Brenda Donelan

  The weekend was fairly uneventful since there were no classes or activities going on MSU. Marlee made good use of the time to prepare for her classes in the upcoming week and to grade the rest of the essay exams. Mondays were always busy for Marlee, but the upcoming Monday would be particularly hellish. Not only did she have her two morning classes and her three-hour night class, but she also had to attend a mandatory meeting called by the dean. She knew she wouldn’t be able to able to sidestep him any longer and was mentally preparing her defense if he cornered her again about talking to people about the investigation.

  After cleaning her house and doing a load of laundry, Marlee made a trip to the grocery store and stocked up on vegetables and plenty of protein sources. She was committed to making this a better food week than the last. She knew it would be easier without Diane around. Not that Diane was the source of Marlee’s poor dietary choices, but she found it easier to fall off the diet wagon when she was around others. Plus, the Halloween candy was gone, and they had polished off the last of the wine. It was a good time to recommit to her low-carb plan.

  Monday’s morning classes came and went. Although she had had a restful weekend, Marlee still felt like she was teaching on auto pilot. She vowed to kick it up a notch during class that night. She hung out in her office until two o’clock when the mandatory meeting was scheduled to be held. Marlee made her way to the meeting room at 1:59 p.m. She didn’t want to get there early and risk being called out by the dean before the meeting. She knew an ass-chewing was coming. She just hoped it would be in private, after the meeting, and not in front of her colleagues.

  Marlee sat in the second row along the west wall in the classroom. From lecturing in that room in previous semesters, she knew from personal experience that it was an area she didn’t focus on when she was at the front of the room. Hopefully, this was the tendency with most speakers in this room. The dean entered the room with his usual fanfare. He stomped to the front and scowled as he surveyed the room, noting who was and was not present.

  It was surprising that Dean Green didn’t even mention Logan LeCroix, the death investigation nor the role that any faculty and staff had played in doing their own investigations or providing information to the various news outlets. Instead, he focused his remarks on recruiting new students to MSU and retaining the students who were already enrolled. Dean Green provided slide after slide of data showing how many of the students who came to MSU for tours eventually enrolled. He also had data on the drop-out rates for freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors at MSU. The dean emphasized how important it was to recruit and retain students so that MSU could increase its enrollment. As one of the smaller public institutions in the state, there were always rumors afloat that the Board of Regents wanted to close MSU. Some professors who had been there for over ten years expressed repeatedly that MSU’s closure had been a hot-button topic since they had begun teaching, and it had not come to fruition thus far, so they didn’t give the whole matter too much credence. The dean exploded and insisted that, if everyone didn’t get on board with getting more students to enroll and keeping the ones already in attendance, MSU was doomed for closure. He concluded the meeting with comments about the development of a new committee to deal with an increase in cheating and plagiarism at MSU. After the doom and gloom meeting, Marlee filed out of the room along with the other professors from the College of Arts and Science. Dean Green hadn’t looked at her even once during the meeting, so she figured someone else must be on his shit list now.

  After the meeting, Marlee went home to rest up a bit before her evening class. She took a short nap and then had an early supper before she drove back to campus. She arrived in her office at five thirty, which was enough time for her to center herself and mentally prepare for the three-hour class ahead of her. Marlee organized her notes and quickly reviewed the material she intended to cover that evening. The class was Criminology and was one of her favorites to teach. Tonight, unfortunately, they were scheduled to discuss murder and non-negligent homicide. She would need to tread carefully with this topic, given Logan’s death only a week ago. Marlee knew she wouldn’t be able to just talk about murder in an abstract way. Even if she tried, students would ask questions about Logan’s death. They were anxious for details and answers, just like she was.

  The classroom where she taught Criminology was equipped with theater seating. The stage where she lectured was at the bottom of the room with eight rows of graduated seating that looked down at the stage. Off to her right was a large screen. The projector sat atop the computer station at the front and was what she used to transmit her notes onto a large screen for the students. Most chose to write down what was on the overheads, but some chose to just listen to the lecture and get the notes from another student or forego the notes altogether. Marlee was a visual learner and, as a student, had written down every word that her professors had put on the overheads. Since becoming a professor herself, she had learned that some students learned best while listening, and some learned best by applying the knowledge during activities or discussions. She tried to provide all three types of learners with an adequate means of processing the material she presented in class. Of course, the students were supposed to have read the chapter before lecture, but she knew that rarely happened.

  The first hour of the class was spent discussing the different types of murder and non-negligent manslaughter, the elements that distinguished one type from another and the penalties associated with each. The next half hour focused on perpetrators, victims and how they were associated, if at all. Students frequently raised questions during the lecture, mostly seeking to make sense of the material as it pertained to Logan LeCroix’s death. “So, how is a first degree murder different from the other types? I just don’t completely understand that part,” said a frustrated student in the middle of the room.

  “There are a lot of different ways I can word this, but the easiest way to understand is that first degree murder is intended, and there is some degree of planning. Let’s work on an example together. Let’s say you are the perpetrator. You absolutely hate your roommate and want to kill him or her. You also want to get away with committing the murder. How would you do it?” asked Marlee.

  “I would use poison,” said the student who asked the first question. A few in the room laughed at the speed at which she volunteered the answer.

  “How would you carry out the murder, Angie?” asked Marlee.

  “I’d sneak a poison into her coffee,” said Angie.

  “OK, let’s go with Angie’s poison angle for our example. Poisoning someone requires a degree of planning, right? I mean you have to figure out what you can slip into the victim’s drink, food, toothpaste, or whatever. You also have to determine what type of poison will go undetected by the victim and, hopefully by the coroner and detectives. What else is necessary for our perpetrator?” asked Marlee. The more students became involved in the discussions and examples, the more they tended to enjoy class and learn the material.

  “The perpetrator would not want the poisoning linked to her,” offered a male student in the back row.

  “Exactly! So what would Angie do to ensure that she got away with it?” questioned Marlee, winking at Angie. “Is it okay if we use you as our poisoner, Angie?” The student smiled and nodded, eager to play along in the example.

  “She would have to make sure that she had an alibi for the day and time the victim was poisoned,” offered a student in the front row.

  “Good. But what if the poison takes several days or weeks to work? Some poisons need to build up in the system before they become deadly,” said Marlee.

  “I would wipe off my finger prints and plant the poison bottle in someone else’s home or car. That would throw the suspicion onto a completely innocent person and off of me,” said Angie.

  “Yep, but let’s say you’ve anticipated that you’ll be a suspect, and the alibi thing won’t work out. What else could you do?” questioned Marlee.

  “
After poisoning my roommate, I could skip town or flee the country,” said Angie. “It would look really suspicious to the police, but maybe I could hide out on an island in the South Pacific and change my name.”

  “Sure,” said Marlee. “And if it’s a country that doesn’t support the death penalty, then that country might give you asylum. Now, let’s get back to the poison itself. How does Angie know what poison to use, how to administer it, how she can get the victim to drink it, and how to keep the medical examiner from discovering it?”

  A shy kid sitting to the far left of the room raised his hand and said, “All of that information is available online. All she would have to do is spend some time researching different types of poisons.”

  “Yes, or she could even go old school and read books about poisons in the library. Regardless of how she gets her information, what must she remember to do?”

  No one answered, and the students looked at each other. Finally Marlee said, “Angie would have to make sure she didn’t use her own computer to do the research. Even if she erased the browser history, forensic computer specialists can still uncover searches that were performed on a computer. If Angie read about poisons in library books, she shouldn’t check them out. She also needs to be sure no one sees her reading books about poison.” The students nodded, grasping the idea that the cover-up was important in avoiding arrest.

  “So, does it make sense how this would be different from a murder in which two people were drinking at the bar, got into a fight over one spilling beer on the other, and one killed the other?”

  Angie was first to speak, proud that she now fully understood how first degree murder could be distinguished from other types. “The poisoning was intentional, not an accident. And, I took steps to plan it out, throw suspicion on someone else and try to go undetected.”

  “Bingo!” exclaimed Marlee. “The poisoning was intentional and planned. The spontaneous fight between two drunks, in which one dies due to the injuries, is not planned, and the person who won the fight may or may not have wanted the victim dead. It depends on the circumstances of the crime.”

  By this time, the students were anxious to apply some of the information they learned in class to Logan’s death. “So, was Dr. LeCroix’s death a first degree murder?” asked Angie.

  “We don’t fully know the circumstances of the crime yet,” replied Marlee, feeling uncomfortable in discussing such a personal situation in such an academic way. “It’s possible, but the police are still investigating.” This last part was probably a fib, since Bettina Crawford from the Elmwood PD told her that the chief was already inclined to rule it a suicide. She fielded a few more questions regarding Logan’s death and then gave the class a ten minute break. Marlee learned long ago that, if students didn’t get a break halfway through class, they would not be able to pay attention. Some would start to nod off, and others would slip into a daze, not hearing most of what was said.

  Following the short break, Marlee reconvened class and broke them into small groups. This allowed everyone in the group to have a chance to participate without the worry of speaking before the whole class. She provided each group with four scenarios and had them identify which were first degree murder, second degree murder, voluntary manslaughter and involuntary manslaughter. In addition to distinguishing between the types, the students also had to identify what information in the scenarios made it obvious that it was a particular type of murder or manslaughter. When the groups were finished, Marlee involved the whole class in a discussion on the types of murder and manslaughter. When that discussion was complete, she had about fifteen minutes left of class, just enough time to talk about the test they had taken two weeks prior and to pass back the exams.

  When the exams were returned, and she had fielded all the questions about grading, Marlee excused the class at 9:00 p.m. Niles Barkley, the shy student who had provided information on poisons during the class discussion, waited in the classroom after everyone else left. Marlee was packing up her bag and powering down the computer when she noticed he was still there. Niles was a non-traditional student in his mid-twenties who had recently returned from service in Iraq as a military police officer. He stood five feet ten inches tall and had muscles on top of muscles, which he maintained through regular work-outs at the campus gym. She’d initially had a negative impression of him on the first day he attended class. Marlee assumed that, since he was non-traditional and a war veteran, he would be a class know-it-all. Instead, he turned out to be very respectful and quite knowledgeable. Niles was most interested in learning new things, not showing the class how much he already knew.

  “Do you have a question about your exam, Niles?” Marlee asked, secretly praying he didn’t because she just wanted to go home and relax after her big day.

  “No, I was just wondering if you wanted me to walk you to your car,” Niles said.

  Marlee was touched. Niles thought she might be scared to walk into the dark parking lot by herself after class and was offering to escort her safely to her vehicle. She thanked him for his kind offer, but indicated she needed to go to her office to first to drop off some books and would not be leaving campus for a bit. Niles nodded with a smile and left the room. Marlee was pleased that someone had taken the time to worry about her. She went to her office for a half an hour and realized that she couldn’t concentrate. She was fried. Marlee walked out of the building, looking both ways as she exited. She walked right over the very spot where Logan LeCroix’s body was found last week.

  In uncertain times we often find a quick answer will substitute for a correct answer.

  Chapter 19

  Tuesday morning brought a jolt to Marlee and the rest of the Elmwood community. Around 11:00 a.m. she was in her office meeting with some of her advisee students about the classes they would be taking next semester. All professors were advisors to some of the students in their respective departments and were expected to help students navigate their way toward an eventual graduation. Marlee had just finished mapping out a spring semester schedule for a student who was struggling to get through the required class of English Literature. This would be his second attempt at the class, and Marlee reminded him that showing up for class, reading the text and turning in all of the assignments were the three missing pieces of the puzzle in his quest to actually pass the damn course. As he walked out the door, she shook her head at needing to point out the obvious. Sometimes it wasn’t that a student didn’t know what to do but needed encouragement or just a butt-kicking to get motivated. Putting her counseling skills to good use, Marlee provided a bit of both.

  She answered her phone on the second ring. The caller did not self-identify, and it was impossible to tell if the call came from a male or a female. The caller whispered, “The police chief is making an announcement on campus at noon about LeCroix’s death in the Quinn Building.” Then there was a click, and the line went dead before Marlee could respond. She had no idea who the caller was. Someone from the police department? Or could it have been an employee on the MSU campus? What if it were someone from the community? Maybe the caller was someone she hadn’t even thought of talking to so far. She pondered the caller’s identity while sorting through important and non-important email messages. At eleven forty-five, she put a sign on her door canceling her office hours for the rest of the day and made her way over to the Student Union.

  Walking into the cavernous classroom, Marlee wasn’t sure if she really wanted to hear what the chief of police had to say. The room held over 250 people with graduated seating looking down at a stage with a podium. She sat near the middle of the room behind two professors from the Art Department; one, a young blond man dressed in jeans and an MSU sweatshirt, and the other a woman in her 50s wearing a turban and African tribal dress, which highlighted her Midwestern pallor. Marlee didn’t know either of them well, but leaned in to ask what they knew of the case and of the upcoming meeting. Neither had any information, and the blonde man said that the only reason he knew about the
meeting today was that he was in his department secretary’s office when she scheduled the room. The three looked at each other, then settled back into their seats. About 15 other people showed up by noon, the majority of them professors. Why aren’t there more people here? Marlee thought.

  At noon President Ross, flanked by Kendra Rolland and Chief Langdon, entered the door at the front of the room and stood before the group. All three wore somber expressions, and Kendra looked at the floor. President Ross approached the podium and gently touched the microphone to ensure it was on and working. The slight screech ensured all systems were operating at full capacity.

  “Thank you all for being here,” said President Ross to the room of twenty people as he pulled the microphone closer to his face. “We are here today so that our Chief of Police, Bill Langdon, can make a statement regarding the death of Dr. Logan LeCroix. With that, I will turn it over to Chief Langdon.”

  Bill Langdon approached the podium and moved the microphone toward his mouth. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere than where he was. He cleared his throat and recapped the details of Logan’s death. Then he launched into a brief synopsis of the investigative work which had been done to that point. “Based upon the evidence at the scene, an investigation into Dr. LeCroix’s background, interviews with numerous people, forensic examination of the firearm and the opinions of outside consultants, I am ruling the cause of death as a self-inflicted gunshot wound.” A collective gasp echoed in the large room.