Chapter 17
One of
Etienne's solitary pursuits was Still Lifes. One Thursday afternoon
found him walking through ankle high bluebonnets, with his small
camera and a cheap tripod. He had a sketch pad, too, to record what
he was inspired to seek on future occasions. On this occasion, he
topped a low ridge, strolling away from the highway, to discover the
corpse of a large black man, lying face down in a ditch. He pulled
up short in shock. He was not horrified, but he was not morbidly
fascinated. He set down his camera and tripod, and reached for his
cell phone. It was the work of a moment to discover that there was
no service in the area.
Etienne cast
about for his bearings, and then set off back to the car, leaving his
camera and tripod behind to mark the spot. If it was not a smart
decision, he could be forgiven for lacking an established procedure
on what to do when finding dead bodies. It was a goodly drive back
to town, and he put $15.00 worth of gas in the car, before arriving
at the police station. There was surprisingly little response to his
report. The officer who took his report handed him a card, with a
report number on it, but questioned him persistently about exactly
how to find the location. For the umpteenth time, Etienne repeated
the mile marker, and that he would lead the officer back to the body;
he had left his camera and tripod there, to mark the spot.
When the
words crossed his lips, the demeanor of the officer changed. “You
mean to say that you've been taking PICTURES?” he asked,
incredulously.
“No sir.
I do Still Lifes. Flowers and such. I just found the body when I
was out casting about for a subject.” Etienne could not believe
that the officer would doubt him.
For his own
part, the officer had to consider if this was not, in fact a serial
killer, seeking attention. Etienne might well be growing tired of
trophies, and be in the very act of “escalating.” However, the
officer could not arrest Etienne on suspicion alone, so he agreed to
allow Etienne to lead him back to the spot. Etienne had no gas
money. Rather than beg, he used the limited social skills of a man
who lived without friends, to ask the police officer if he could ride
in a squad car. This suited the officer. Etienne could not flee, if
he was dependent on the policeman himself for transportation.
By 3 o'clock
in the afternoon, Etienne and two police officers returned to the
site, where the second officer was able to confirm the private
speculations of the first; Etienne had indeed been out there prepared
to take photographs. Now that there was no possibility of wasting a
Detective's time, the radios came out, and the crime scene tape went
up. Etienne had been asked to wait in the squad car, and Officer
Durham returned his camera to him with the observation that he could
have his camera card back when it was no longer evidence in an
ongoing investigation. Etienne was slightly surly. “I'm not
exactly made of money,” he complained. “That's a Compact Flash
card. They don't give those things away like potato chips!”
When he
finally got home, it was 11 o'clock at night, and he was exhausted
from answering so many questions. He had finally been able to
convince the police that he lived in town, but his references had
hardly satisfied them. He did not know it, but the entire United
States' system of jurisprudence was about to go on trial.
