[Lady Justice 06] - Lady Justice and Dr. Death

by Robert Thornhill

  I sat there alone in the cold room and wondered what it had been like for Roger Beckham and Arthur Manning.

  I, like them, had just scheduled my own death.

  CHAPTER 8

  Police business is a lot like the military --- hurry up and wait.

  The bait was in the water and now it was time to sit back and wait for the fish to swim by.

  It was possible that someone in the Final Exit Network was watching me, so I couldn’t go home. I had to live in the department’s 'safe house.'

  Due to the delicate nature of my makeup, I had to shower with a bag over my head and even then, the perky Samantha had to drop by each day to give me a touch-up.

  She always arrived in a hospice van to keep my cover intact.

  After four days of not shaving, my mousey gray stubble made my appearance even more grizzly and grotesque.

  Anytime I was out where there were people, my gaunt visage could part the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.

  Little children would squeal and cling to their mommy’s legs and I noticed that after leaving a checkout stand, the clerk would wipe everything down with antiseptic.

  I supposed the captain was right; I was the closest thing they had to dead.

  Maggie and I would talk on the phone.

  She wanted to try to see me in some clandestine place, but I begged off, saying that it was against police procedure.

  Actually, I was just afraid that if she saw me, that mental image would haunt her and jeopardize the plans Mr. Winkie had made for a happy homecoming.

  I was bored out of my mind, so I took this opportunity to catch up on some reading and to watch some movies.

  Since I was knee-deep in this euthanasia plot, I thought it might be a good idea to learn more about the most famous champion of the cause, Jack Kevorkian.

  I found an HBO made-for-TV movie, titled, You Don’t Know Jack, with Al Pacino as Kevorkian and Susan Sarandon as the leader of the Hemlock Society.

  It was a gut-wrenching, tear-jerking story from start to finish, filled with footage of terminally ill patients, suffering excruciating pain and begging Dr. Kevorkian to give them peace.

  When it was all said and done, the message was, that to some, Kevorkian was an angel of mercy and to others he was a cold-blooded killer.

  When it was over, Samantha had to re-do the makeup around my eyes.

  On the evening of the fourth day, I received the call.

  “Mr. Braxton?”

  “Yes. This is Ray Braxton. Who is this?”

  “You may simply call me Thanatos. Your physician referred you to me. I understand that you may be interested in a procedure.”

  “Yes, Sir. More than interested. I am ready. What do I have to do?”

  “The first step is a consultation. I must be sure that you fully understand the finality of the procedure and explain the process.

  “After we conclude the consultation, if you still wish to proceed and if I believe you are an acceptable candidate, I will give you further instructions.”

  “Fine. Where do you want me to go?”

  “Nowhere, Mr. Braxton. I will come to you.”

  “My address is ---.”

  “Mr. Braxton, I’m quite aware of where you live.

  “Shall we say eight o’clock tomorrow evening?”

  “I’ll be here --- and --- thank you.”

  As soon as our conversation ended, I called the captain to see if the equipment that the techs had installed had worked properly.

  “We got it all,” he said, “every word on tape. But they’re good. We traced the number back to a disposable cell. We’ll try to triangulate on it, but we’ll probably find it in an alley dumpster somewhere.”

  “So what now?” I asked.

  “Turn on the switch on the video feed we installed in the wall thermostat so that we can make sure it’s still operational --- and for heaven’s sake don’t forget to turn it on tomorrow evening before he arrives.

  “Other than that, just sit tight until tomorrow.”

  After I performed my tekkie chores, I flipped open the laptop and ‘Googled’ Thanatos.

  Wikipedia told me that Thanatos was the god of death in ancient Greek mythology.

  Our new Dr. Death, it would seem, had a flare for the dramatic.

  I was a nervous wreck. I paced the floor, worrying that I might screw things up.

  Of all the undercover work that I had done, this was, by far, the most difficult.

  It’s one thing to portray a goofy transvestite wearing a dress and a Tina Turner wig.

  It’s quite another to exude the emotions of a terminally ill patient intent on ending their life.

  Watching the Kevorkian movie had helped give me some insight into the motivations of those poor suffering people.

  I flipped on the switch to the video feed at seven thirty and tried to relax, but by eight o’clock my armpits were drenched with sweat.

  At five past eight, there was a knock on the door.

  One of the foibles of human nature is to conjure up images of people before actually meeting them.

  In my minds eye, I had pictured Thanatos as a Mr. Spock, Star Trek kind of guy, pointy ears and all, but the man that stood before me was quite different.

  My first impression was that Harrison Ford had just walked in the door --- the older, wrinkled Harrison Ford.

  Great, I thought. I’m going to be done in by Indiana Jones.

  “I am Thanatos,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Ray Braxton. Please come in.”

  When we were seated, he said, “Please tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s not much left to tell. I’m alone and I’m dying of cancer. I’m guessing Dr. Graves shared my file with you.”

  “He did.”

  “Then that’s about it. I have very little money, so what I have left to look forward to is to be institutionalized in a state hospital where they will pump me full of drugs and leave me to die a slow agonizing death.

  “What little money I have left, I’d rather give to you for your services. I hope it will be enough.”

  Thanatos smiled. “We’re not after your money. Our services are free to those who qualify.”

  “So do I qualify?” I asked expectantly.

  He was about to answer when he saw the plastic cover of the You Don’t Know Jack movie by the TV.

  “I see you’ve been doing some homework,” he said pointing to the CD.

  “I thought it would help if I understood more about the process. After I watched it, I knew that this is what I want.”

  “You’ve made my job a lot easier,” he said. “A part of what I do on my first visit is to make sure that the patient fully understands the finality of his decision.”

  “The movie helped me a lot. Dr. Kevorkian helped a lot of people. Did you know him?”

  A far-away look filled Thanatos’ eyes. “I did. My sister was patient #64 for Dr. Kevorkian.

  “I treated her until, like you, there was no more I could do. The pain was so intense that she begged to die. Jack took away her pain.”

  I was amazed that he had known the legend personally. I wanted to know more, so I pressed on.

  “I just don’t understand why there is so much opposition to what you are doing?”

  “Dr. Jack was a pioneer ahead of his time,” he said. “Deep seated beliefs do not change overnight.

  “Did you know that ether was known in the fifteen hundreds but not used in surgery for over three hundred years? Surgeons operated on fully conscious people because the popular belief was that God wanted us to suffer for our sins.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said.

  “More recently, there was moral opposition to heart transplants on the premise that surgeons were playing 'God.' "

  “Maybe some day your practice will be as accepted as open heart surgery.”

  “We can always hope that society is moving toward enlightenment --- but --- back to your situation --- I think you ar
e a good candidate. I will help you.”

  “Thank you. What do you want me to do?”

  “You should get your affairs in order.

  “I have documents for you to sign where you request the procedure we’re offering, swear that it is being done of your own free will and holding all parties blameless.

  “We also require that your final wish is that your body is to be cremated.

  “Can you agree to all that?”

  “Where do I sign? I’m ready.”

  “Also, if you have the means, you might want to put together some photos and music to enjoy at the end.

  “We want this experience to be as pleasant and peaceful as possible. Some of our other patients have found it comforting.”

  “So when can we do this?” I asked. “It won’t take long to get my affairs in order.”

  “Two nights from now --- same time --- eight o’clock.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  I signed the papers and he left.

  I sat there in a daze.

  I had just arranged for my death and it was a lot less hassle that when I tried to sign up for cable TV.

  The phone rang. It was the captain.

  “That was quite a performance, Walt. You had all of us believing that you were ready to croak. We got it all on tape.”

  “Captain, you saw the man. Did he look like a murderer to you?”

  “Walt, what I think and what you think doesn’t matter. In the eyes of the law, the man is guilty of second-degree murder. It’s our duty to enforce the law. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Uhhh --- no --- we’re good.”

  When I hung up the phone I was anything but good.

  After watching the Kevorkian movie and meeting Thanatos, I was beginning to wonder whether justice was really being served.

  Lady Justice is depicted with a blindfold, but sometimes I wished that she could just slip it off for a moment so that she could see what was really going on.

  In the next two days I tried to stay busy.

  At Thanatos’ suggestion, I put together a CD of photos that Maggie and I had taken on our honeymoon in Hawaii.

  Obviously, I couldn’t use ones that had Maggie, Willie or Mary, but we had taken dozens of photos of sunsets, beaches, rainbows and flowers.

  The music I chose was In This Life I Was Loved By You, by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.

  As I put all this together, I tried to picture what this would feel like to a person who was actually planning his last moments.

  I remembered a conversation I had heard between two old guys on the front porch of the Three Trails.

  One of them said, “I wish I knew where I was gonna die.”

  The other guy asked, “Why in the world would you want to know that?”

  “Because iffin I knew where it was, I wouldn’t go there.”

  It had seemed stupid and inane at the time, but it made me wonder if knowing and planning might be better than a total surprise.

  I couldn’t decide.

  At precisely eight o’clock there was a knock on the door.

  I had seen cartoons that depicted the specter of the Grim Reaper standing at someone’s door when their time had come.

  I threw open my door but the messenger of death was not a shrouded ghoul with a scythe, but the smiling face of Indiana Jones.

  I looked around the neighborhood before closing the door.

  Somewhere out there, the captain and several officers were watching the video feed from a van.

  Once Thanatos had set up the mercy machine, they would burst in and haul away the demon in handcuffs.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I am. I prepared a video like you suggested. Would you like to see it?”

  “Certainly.”

  I opened the laptop, pressed the key and the images of a Hawaiian paradise flowed across the screen.

  Iz’s beautiful voice filled the room.

  When it had played through, Thanatos said, “Hawaii is one of my favorite spots on earth.

  “And that song --- it sounds as if there might have been someone special in your life.”

  “There was. And with your help, I’ll be seeing her again soon.”

  “Then let’s get to it.”

  He had me sit comfortably with the laptop where I could reach it.

  When he was satisfied, he stood in front of me and looked me squarely in the eyes.

  “We are almost ready. Before I bring in the Thanatron, I will ask you again. Is it your wish to die?”

  “It is.”

  He stood staring for another full minute.

  “Then I will get the machine. Make yourself comfortable.”

  I watched him leave and settled back into the chair.

  I had expected him to be back in maybe five minutes, but after ten had passed, I began to worry.

  When twenty minutes had passed, the door opened, but it was not Thanatos. It was the captain.

  “Where’s Thanatos?” I asked. “Have you arrested him?”

  “Sorry, Walt. He’s in the wind.”

  The flood of emotion that I felt at that moment overwhelmed me.

  At first I thought it was disappointment.

  Then I realized that it was relief.

  CHAPTER 9

  Everyone associated with the Dr. Death operation was bummed out.

  We went back to the precinct and played the videos of my meetings with Thanatos over and over again, trying to pinpoint what had spooked the guy.

  Even the department psychologist thought that I had played a convincing part.

  We came to a dead end and I announced that I was going to head home to my sweet wife.

  I hadn’t seen her in a week.

  Dooley, ever vigilant for an opportunity to poke fun at the old man said, “Are you really going home like that? Unless Maggie is into necrophilia, you probably won’t be getting any.”

  I looked in the mirror.

  For once, he was right on.

  I had been a walking corpse for so long that I had nearly forgotten how ghastly I had become.

  I went into the locker room, stripped and headed for the shower.

  I stood there for the longest time letting the hot water pour over my body --- my first shower in a week without a bag over my head.

  I watched as Samantha’s handiwork swirled down the drain.

  I shaved off the stubble and when I looked in the mirror, I was almost human again.

  I called Maggie and told her that I was on the way home.

  She told me to hurry.

  She met me at the door and it was one of those special occasions where very few words were exchanged.

  We tumbled into bed and held each other close.

  My work had made me come face-to-face with the specter of death, but at that moment, I was so glad to be alive.

  When we were both spent, the words to Iz’s beautiful ballad filled my mind.

  If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart

  The only dream that mattered had come true.

  In this life, I was loved by you.

  The next morning, I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

  The captain had told me to take the day off to decompress.

  I had just wolfed down a plate of Maggie’s pancakes and was ready for my second cup of coffee when I opened the newspaper.

  There, in blazing headlines, I read;

  “Dr. Death Defies Police Undercover Operation!”

  The article stated that the police had confirmed that a euthanasia ring was operating in the Kansas City area and that at least two of their victims had been found.

  It went on to say that an undercover officer had made contact with 'Dr. Death,' and had scheduled a procedure, but the plan fell apart before the killer could be apprehended.

  I was stunned. The operation, as was typical of all undercover work, was classified.

  No one was supposed to be privy to the information except the officers involved,
but the article gave specific details of the bust gone wrong.

  I showed the headline to Maggie.

  “I have to get to the precinct.”

  “So much for a day of rest,” she said as I hurried out the door.

  I went straight to the captain’s office.

  “I suppose you saw the paper,” he said as I entered.

  “I thought this was hush-hush,” I said, tossing the paper on his desk.

  “It was,” he replied. “This didn’t come through official channels --- someone leaked it!”

  “But, who? --- Why?”

  “I wish I knew. Now our chances of cracking that euthanasia ring are slim and none. Since it’s been broadcast that we’re onto them, they’ll probably bring their activities to a halt.

  “And that’s not my only problem,” he said clicking on the TV with his remote.

  “Watch this.”

  The screen filled with a shot of the J.C. Nichols fountain on the Country Club Plaza.

  Two very vocal groups were congregated on opposite sides of the fountain.

  One group carried placards with the inscription, 'Death With Dignity,' and the other group carried signs saying, 'Care-Not Killing!'

  The two groups were shouting at one another and were being kept apart only by a line of my fellow officers.

  The cameraman focused on a reporter who was interviewing one of the protestors.

  “Are you part of an organized group?” the reporter asked.

  “Some of us belong to the Nightingale Alliance, but others are just concerned citizens appalled at the atrocities being committed in our city.”

  “The folks on the other side of the fountain,” the reporter said, pointing across the way, “say that the individual has the right to control his own destiny and make life and death choices. What are your arguments against euthanasia?”

  “Where do I start?

  “From the moral and religious perspective, euthanasia fundamentally undermines the basis of law and public morality. It weakens society’s respect for the sanctity of life.

  “To kill oneself or to get someone else to do it for us is to deny God and deny God’s rights over our lives.”