File Name: Paul

Today I had…a day! Lost myself in my past…our past!

While my parents spend some of their retired life in Ireland…I take on the position of “property manager” for their Southridge home. I go by a few times a week, check the mail, check on the house, start or drive their cars and just make sure everything is going ok.   Its easy for me since the girls go to daycare just a few blocks away from them.

As I drove up there this morning I was getting weird emotional feelings. The hills are a BEAUTIFUL shade of green…they look surreal. We didn’t see them looking like that too much growing up…they were usually brown and even burned twice!  But I drove up past Kristen Mock’s old house…past by Brad McGee’s street (all childhood friends…whom I still have contact with via social media).  Driving up Glen Oak I look into the hills…and think how much time I spent up there as a kid.  When my best friend, Holly Robinson and I would literally spend ALL day playing up there. We would explore. Make up stories about what we thought happened.  The hills are NOT a safe place…lots of tagging, beers bottles, etc. would be found up there…but they had such cool rock structures and beautiful trees. Holly is one friend that I have completely lost contact with. She moved to Long Beach when we got to high school..I saw her once oddly walking through a grocery store IN Long Beach probably almost 20 years ago…and that was the last time I saw her. Weird.

But I drove past Jasmine Place…which is a street that I avoided for about 7 years…I would do whatever I could to NOT drive past this street. Its only about 2 streets away from my parents house…but its the street where my brother’s body was found almost 17 years ago.

When I got to my parents house this morning I told myself I needed to go upstairs and check for any roof leaks…we had LOTS of rain last week so I didn’t want to miss something like that!  I found myself sitting in my old room…my original old room, which is now the computer room. Had such weird feelings being in their house…all alone. It was so quiet but I have this hollow feeling inside…

And I found myself looking through the file of my brothers death. Reading all the legal documents, police reports, District Attorney reports, coroners report, etc.  But what got me was reading my dad’s hand written notes about the events that took place the days following my brothers death.  He documented everything! Every phone call, every LACK of phone call, every statement.  I almost feel like that was his way of grieving…his thoughts written down. I could feel his heart breaking as the notes went on and the answers as to how and why were fading. His sadness was conveyed through those notes…and it was the first time I understood his anger…the facts made me angry too!

As I read all of that I kept thinking how this was sounding like a book or movie…it couldn’t be real life!! How the police department could treat this family..this case…this victim with respect, urgency, support. But this isn’t just any family…its MY family! MY PARENTS. My BROTHER was totally disrespected.  At the time of all this I remember my mom telling me some of these details from the police investigation…but it wasn’t registering in my 18 year old mind…but it is now. 

How could a police department not ID a body for over 24 hours? How could a detective NOT mention the “state” of Pauls body…the fact that the coroner couldn’t even tell his eye color until he was cleaned up because of the dried blood from his face and head wounds?  Why was none of that mentioned…and why just assume it was a drug issue?!? Yes Paul was known for his behaviors within the community BUT when someone looked like that…why just assume.  Knowing the victims father is in law enforcement why avoid his phone calls. Why would a detective NOT contact the family with any information regarding the case? I didn’t realize how big of an asshole the detective was until today. I didn’t realize how MUCH that department messed up that case!! Reading the interviews with people who were Paul’s “friends” and names I haven’t heard in a long time sent chills down my spine!

Its all just f*cked up. No one knows the real story…I could almost sense the lies in the interviews as I read them in the reports.

The timeline wasn’t confirmed. So I don’t know how long my brother was left alone…dieing…alone.  I don’t know if he was awake or asleep.  I do know that he was dead for a good few hours before anyone found him. I get sad wondering what he was thinking…was he so drunk he was passed out asleep OR was he awake..and scared, feeling weird and not knowing what was happening as the bleeding on his brain got worse? Ugh. Makes me sick. Makes me sad.

I felt over the years that my grieving process has changed. The shock, the deep deep sadness, the questioning, the guilt, the anger and then the forced contentment. You know mom’s saying “Live for the Living and Pray for the Dead”…so we continue to live…with a piece of our hearts missing.

17 years later…and I’m angry all over again. I’m so angry about how this was dealt with….I’m angry that we didn’t fight and push more.  I’m angry that I feel like I sat back and expected a police department to handle their shit and take care of my dad but didn’t.  I’m angry that the coroner labeled his death as a homicide but the D.A. said there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute anyone. WTF!  He died from a blunt force trauma to the head…and have a person admit to using blunt force to the head…I just don’t get it.

I was sad reading all the injuries he sustained during his fight that ended his life. I was sad thinking of my mom and dad reading this document. Oh the feeling of being so helpless.

The feelings that Southridge bring back are hard to handle. Being in my parents house is so bittersweet. I love the memories and the feeling of comfort I get from being there BUT oh the sadness. The sadness lingers in that home…and it makes me wonder if that is why my dad seems to HATE being state side. I wonder if that home makes him sad…brings back to much.  Or do I just have these feelings because I have left that nest 11 years ago…and so I had forgotten the feelings and now being there pushs it all down my throat?!?

This time of year is always hard on my family. Even after 17 years…crazy right?!?

We miss my brother oh so much! We miss the life we THINK we would have had.