When the Time Comes

by Adele O'Neill

‘Well, in Ireland we use it predominantly for animal euthanasia because of its reliability. It is lethal in high dosages. It is used in other jurisdictions by euthanasia organisations.’

  ‘Which jurisdictions?’

  ‘The United States, Switzerland and the Netherlands. Patients are reported to pass peacefully after administration.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you the other night,’ I whisper under my breath and Josh looks at me with a confused face.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you later,’ I whisper again. It does feel better knowing that at least she wasn’t in any pain.

  ‘It’s also used in capital punishment in the States because of its reliability.’

  ‘Thank you, and is it a pharmaceutical that is readily prescribed for anything else in Ireland?

  ‘It is used in certain circumstances to reduce intracranial pressure in Reyes Syndrome, traumatic brain injury or to induce a coma, but these are clinically managed and medically sound applications of the drug.’

  ‘I see.’ William says. ‘And was it ever used for anything else?’

  ‘There was a time,’ the pathologist continues, ‘when it was used more widely as a sedative or in the treatment of convulsions. But in the seventies and eighties it became widely abused. It was too easy to overdose on so, as a consequence, pentobarbital in pill form was no longer manufactured and almost universally taken off the market and replaced by safer sleeping pills, primarily benzodiazepines.’

  ‘So, if a person wanted to end their own life…’ He pauses for a fraction of a second expecting Lucinda to object to the suicide reference he has just inserted by stealth and when she doesn’t, he continues. ‘Sodium pentobarbital would be an effective drug to do so with?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you Dr Flynn, no further questions.’

  Lucinda stands, placing a glass of water back on the bench in front of her. ‘Dr Flynn,’ she smiles professionally at him and he smiles back with a nod.

  ‘What does sodium pentobarbital do to somebody when taken in a lethal dose?’ Josh and I look at each other each thinking the same. He’s just answered the same question for William moments ago. ‘Specifically.’ She adds.

  ‘Large doses would render a person unconscious. It shuts down the heart and brain functions usually within one or two minutes… at the most ten minutes,’ he says. ‘It depends on the parts per millilitre per body weight… there is a calculation that needs to be taken into account. It can be taken orally which could be treated with activated charcoal, but in the case of the patient Ms Jennifer Buckley it was given intravenously which resulted in the onset of a rapid coma, respiratory depression, hypotension, bradycardia, and hypothermia. These effects lead to the prompt induction of asystole and, unfortunately, death.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucinda says and snaps her cloak around her, throwing a glance at William. ‘So given the evidence you have in front of you, do you have an alternative hypothesis as to the cause of death of Jennifer Buckley?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So we know for a fact that it was a lethal overdose of sodium pentobarbital that ended Jennifer Buckley’s life.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But would you agree that it would be an assumption to state that Jennifer Buckley administered the sodium pentobarbital to herself?’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Flynn, no more questions at this time.’

  Mr Justice O’Brien pushes his large black leather chair away from the desk. ‘At this time,’ he points to the clerk, ‘we shall break for an early lunch and return at 1.30 p.m. if that is suitable?’

  The double doors of the courtroom are flung open and the noise level rises to a din. Rows of people filter out and I wait to see Dad move towards us.

  ‘You guys okay?’ he asks forcing a smile on his face.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, Josh nods his head in response. ‘There’s nearly two hours before we’ve to come back in, why don’t you go home for the afternoon?’ he says. ‘There’s no point loitering around for two hours to come back in for an hour of medical stuff.’ I look at Josh and he just shrugs. It’s as if he has no voice when Dad’s around.

  ‘I want to stay,’ I suggest and Josh shrugs at that too. Josh is so hard to read sometimes. I often think when he’s quiet that he’s just thinking about Mum.

  ‘Okay, then, if you’re sure, why don’t the two of you go down to the hotel for some lunch.’ He reaches into his pocket and hands me fifty euro. ‘I’m going to stay here, stay with the team.’ I follow his eyes towards Greg, William and Kelly who are huddled over by the side.

  ‘Are you not hungry?’ I ask. I’d prefer if he came with us.

  ‘I won’t love. They’re stuck on a piece for the case and I want to be here in case they need me for anything.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say. He looks concerned, upset almost. ‘Dad, what’s the thing they’re stuck on?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s all around the drug Mum used and how she got it. They’re trying to trace its origin, see how it got into Oakley drive and work back from there. If they could trace how it actually got into the house or, better still, who brought it in, it might be the break they need.’

  ‘Oh.’ I say. When Mum had died, the Gardaí interviewed us loads of times and asked us every question at least ten different ways. Did we move anything from Mum’s room? Did we ever accept a delivery for Mum at the door? Did we ever see Mum receive a delivery at the door? Was anyone else in the house the night Mum died? Did we see Dad do any of the things they’ve just asked us? To which of course, all of our answers were no. They checked our phones and our laptops, they even took away our bins and when they followed up on every email notifying me of pending deliveries it only brought them to sites like MissGuided or Pretty Little Things.

  ‘So, you guys go ahead,’ he says and reluctantly, on my part at least, we agree.

  Oversized planters are strategically placed along the bottom of the steps creating a floral boundary between the reporters who wait impatiently to the side wall and those of us leaving the court building looking for cover. One of the reporters says hello loudly to us as we skirt our way round them. They’re hoping that we’ll engage but we don’t. We stay silent, our heads down, and walk as though there is a purpose in each step we take. We wait until we’ve crossed the road before we speak again.

  ‘I wonder if they’ll be able to figure it out?’ I say, still thinking about what Dad said before we left.

  ‘If they haven’t by now, I don’t think it’s likely.’ Josh answers.

  ‘Do you think they’ll find Dad guilty?’ I ask after a brief silence as we walk side by side.

  ‘I don’t know, Abs, I really don’t.’ Josh says.

  ‘If they don’t, do you think they’ll take him back at work, let him fly again?’

  ‘They’ll have to take him back, Abbie, he hasn’t lost his job, he hasn’t been sacked. He’s just on leave pending the outcome of the trial.’

  ‘I suppose.’ I shrug. Ever since Dad had been charged and the airline placed him on paid leave pending the outcome of the trial, I have thought it was so unfair. He loves his job, he loves to fly.

  ‘They just don’t want the negative publicity and you can’t blame them really, and they will take him back if—’

  ‘When,’ I interrupt him.

  ‘When,’ he says. ‘Anyway, could you imagine the passengers if he was still working while all this is going on?’ A small smile creeps up his face. I really do love his wicked sense of humour. He places his fist against his mouth as though he is speaking into the mic on the airplane’s PA system. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain, Estranged Husband Murderer, speaking.’ The reference is to one of the headlines that came out recently in the papers about Dad. ‘Today we’ll be flying at an altitude of 38,000 feet. We are expecting some turbulence along the way, but don’t worry, I won’t kill you.’

  ‘Josh!’ His impersonation of Dad makes me smile. ‘But seriously though,
what if…’ I hesitate, looking for the correct words to use. ‘What if this doesn’t go the right way?’

  ‘I don’t know, Abs, but I’ve already told you, we’ll be okay.’

  ‘I know you have but—’

  ‘But nothing, Abs, everything will be grand.’

  ‘Josh?’ I clear my throat; there’s been something playing on my mind and, as of yet I haven’t found a way to ask him.

  ‘What, Abs?’

  ‘You know a few nights ago when I told you that I had googled the drugs that killed Mum to see what they were?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He knits his eyebrows together and frowns at me.

  ‘And then I said to you that maybe I’d ring Sarah and tell her because she’d love to hear that Mum’s death was peaceful in the end?’

  ‘What are you getting at, Abbie?’ he asks.

  ‘I just wanted to know why you are so angry with Sarah, why did you insist that I never ring her again?’

  ‘No reason, Abbie. It’s nothing really.’

  ‘It is something, Josh,’ my voice wobbles a bit with nerves. ‘You wouldn’t have said that if it wasn’t important to you and now I’m beginning to worry that there is something else wrong that I don’t know about.’ I glance up at him to try and read his thoughts. ‘It doesn’t make sense, one minute she’s in our lives every day and ever since Mum died, you – and dad for that matter – don’t want anything to do with her. I never thought I’d see you and Dad actually agree on something.’

  ‘There’s nothing else wrong, Abbie, I promise. It’s just that she’s not allowed to talk to us and we’re not allowed to talk to her. She’s on the other side.’

  ‘That’s not the reason though,’ I say. I stop walking and sidestep in front of a shop, I need to know the truth. I need to know everything that’s going on. ‘I know there’s something else and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what it is.’ I insist.

  ‘Cop on, Abbie,’ he takes two more steps before he looks behind to see if I am still here. ‘Come on, you big eejit,’ he says.

  ‘Not until you tell me what it is that I don’t know about, I hate it when you and Dad treat me like I’m six years old.’

  ‘It’s nothing Abbie, please, come on, will you?’ his shoulders hunch over his body making himself appear much less tall than he actually is. I don’t answer him and when I don’t move for another three minutes he walks back towards me. ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, start walking then and I’ll tell you on the way.’ I can hear him sigh. ‘But you’ve got to promise that you won’t breathe a word.’ I slink up beside him and wait for him to speak.

  ‘I sort of have an issue with Sarah and no one else knows about it,’ he starts and I turn to study his face. He’s stressed, anxious, I can tell. ‘I went over to Sarah’s house the night before Dad moved in and long story short, I ended up staying there.’ He looks at me then, his eyes wide.

  ‘And?’ I ask.

  ‘I ended up staying there overnight… with Sarah, if you know what I mean.’ He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘You slept with Sarah?’ I ask incredulously, my voice far too loud. ‘No bloody way.’

  ‘I did,’ he says with his head facing forward. He’s afraid to look me in the eye.

  ‘No bloody way.’ I say again.

  ‘I did, Abs, and it’s not something that I’m proud of.’

  ‘I just don’t get it… how on earth did it happen?’

  ‘It was the night before Dad was due to move back in. Do you remember… I told you if he was moving back in that I was moving out?’

  ‘I do.’ I nod. I had phoned Dad to come over to help me find him.

  ‘I couldn’t get my head around it and I knew how much Sarah hated Dad as well, so I went over to her house to see if there was anything she could do to help me convince Mum that Dad moving back in was a bad idea.’

  ‘You are fucking kidding me, Josh, there is no way…’

  ‘Unfortunately, there is way Abs,’ he presses his lips together. ‘She was drinking wine and when she left the room, I swigged back a glass, I think I had three or maybe four in total.’

  ‘No way, Josh, you’re messing.’

  ‘I wish I was, she had nothing on her, well, practically nothing on her when she answered the door and then…’ he opens his palms outwards. ‘Well then one thing led to another.’

  ‘There is no way on this earth that Sarah Barry slept with you.’ I feel like I’m going to vomit. Could this be true?

  ‘She sort of did,’ he pulls out his phone, I have photographic evidence,’ he says and begins to scroll through his phone.

  ‘Oh no, eurgh, I don’t need to see it. Jesus Christ, Josh, put it away.’

  ‘No, Abbie,’ he winces at the thoughts of it. ‘It’s not a photo of that,’ he shivers in disgust. ‘Jesus, as if I’d show my sister a photo of… Jesus, Abbie,’ he shudders. ‘It’s a photo of a note I left her in her house the next morning when I left,’ he explains.

  ‘You left a note in her house?’

  ‘Well, when I woke up she had already left.’

  ‘Her own house?’

  ‘Yes and I left a note because I thought she was already over in our house with Mum and that if I texted her that there was a chance that Mum would see the text coming in… you know what Mum was like for reading other people’s phones.’ The brief memory makes me smile. Mum had an awful habit of looking over our shoulders every time our phones buzzed to see who a message was from. Anytime we gave out to her for it or protested at our lack of privacy, she just grinned and told us that when we paid for our own phones we could have all the privacy we wanted, but while she was paying for them she’d do what she liked. It was one of those arguments that we knew we’d never win.

  ‘And what did the bloody note say?’

  ‘Here,’ he scrolls again through his photos and hands me the phone and I read it. It’s his handwriting alright.

  Sarah,

  I’m not texting in case you’re already at Mum’s and she sees my name come up on your phone, but I wanted to talk to you about last night. I was out of line coming over to your house, but I was just so angry with Dad and thought that we could do something together to stop Mum letting him move in. It was never my intention to come on to you the way I did and when I did, I honestly thought you’d kick me out. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s best for both of us if we don’t tell anyone what happened. Also, not that it’s an excuse, but I drank a lot of your wine when you weren’t looking.

  Sorry again and thanks

  Josh

  ‘Oh my God Josh, I don’t even know what to say.’

  ‘You say nothing, you promised. I just want it to be forgotten about and never to be spoken about again.’ We’ve arrived at the entrance to the hotel and he turns around to me to look me in the eye. ‘Not a word, okay?’

  *

  Josh holds his menu to his face and I close mine. I’ve already chosen. It’s the same everywhere I go. Caesar salad and chips. Josh always tells me how boring I am. While he continues to choose what he’s going to eat, something occurs to me. ‘Josh,’ he peers over the top, ‘can I see that photo again?’

  ‘Why?’ he asks.

  ‘No reason, I just want to check something,’ I say. Reluctantly he keys in his passcode and hands me the phone with the picture displayed on the screen.

  ‘Josh…’ I look up at him and he waits for me to speak. ‘It might be nothing, but do you remember when Dad asked about deliveries, if there was anything out of the ordinary?

  ‘Yeah,’ he says.

  ‘There might be something in this, but it might be nothing,’ I add. He looks at me peculiarly.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he says.

  ‘Don’t look at the note, look at the box behind it,’ I say.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It’s addressed to Jennifer Buckley, College Grove, at Sarah’s address…’ I hand him bac
k the phone to show him.

  ‘First of all, how did you even notice that Mum’s name was on the label and second of all, that’s not really unusual, is it? Mum could have had something delivered there that she hadn’t wanted us to see, or Sarah could have ordered Mum a present or something, you’d never know.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But still, it has Mum’s name and it was delivered two days before Mum died.’ He expands the image to zoom in on the date. ‘And if it was the package they were looking for, it would go some way to explaining why they haven’t, as of yet, been able to trace where Mum got the sodium pentobarbital from.’

  ‘Well, Sherlock.’ Josh studies the photograph intently before he hands it back to me. ‘If you were that clever, you’d also see that the contents are stated on the label and it says perfume.’ When I squint, I can just make out the word. ‘So, maybe you’ve been watching too much CSI and this was just a present that Sarah had bought for Mum. Did she give her any perfume the day she came over for the move?’

  ‘Not that I can remember.’ I hand him back his phone. ‘You’re probably right, but do you think we should say something anyway?’ I ask, hoping he agrees. It could be what Dad and the defence team needs.

  ‘No.’ Josh is quick to answer, decisive. ‘You can’t because if we tell anyone it will come out that I slept with Sarah and I really don’t want anyone to know that,’ he thinks for a moment. ‘No one can know that, okay?’

  ‘But what if this is the key to solving how or what happened to Mum?’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know, Abbie,’ he shakes his leg under the table.

  ‘She won’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking, the legal age of consent is seventeen and you were seventeen then… you were seventeen, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh my God, every time I think of it, I want to hurl. You actually had sex with a forty-five-year-old woman, Josh, that’s just weird…’

  ‘Stop, Abbie, it wasn’t that bad, there’s nothing wrong with what happened, and it was just a one-time thing.’

  ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’ I say, nothing he says will make it any more acceptable.

  ‘But it did,’ he says. ‘We were both drunk, well I definitely was, and it was just one of those things.’