Pam (4 page)

I didn’t have a
bag to
pack, because I never really had any clothes the entire time I was in the hospital. The state provided me with a pair of slacks and
a pull
over shirt. I’d have to get clothing, but that was the last thing on my mind.

A state social worker named
Stephanie
came in to see me.
When I saw her walk in with Thomas from Freedom Project, I thought for sure things had changed.

“You need to know some
things
,” Thomas said. “There’s been a big media blitz regarding you
,
and it hasn’t been favorable.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I said I wasn’t guilty
,
and this proves it.”

He shook his head. “The
verdict
was overturned. That doesn’t erase the crim
e
or the fact that a lot people believed your ex
-
husband's
testimony.”

“I understand.”

Stephanie
intervened. “
They are
gonna
be all over
the place
when we leave here. I’d like to
shield
your face as protection.
Also
,
I have papers. It may be wise for you to consider changing your name. You won’t be going back to Willow Brook so …”

“I will be,” I
interrupted
.

She looked at Thomas then me. “That’s not wise.”

“I’m not
staying
there,
”
I told her. “I’ll pop by. I have to. That’s where it happened
,
and that’s where I start looking for clues.”

Thomas said
,
“
Don’t
expect a
warm
welcome.”

“I don’t. I hope no one notices I’m there. And maybe they’ll find a match for the DNA.” I watched as Thomas ran his fin
g
er over his top
lip
. “What?”

“That’s another thing. The DNA found
at the other
crime scene
, the one that
matched the one under
Mandy
’s finger nail. They found the individual.”

My eyes
widened
. “
Did he or she
confess?
This is good news.”

“He didn’t do it,”
Thomas
said.

“How do you
know?
’

“
He did the other crime; he didn’t kill your family. He would have been six years old at the time.”

I tilted my head. “I don’t understand.”

“The skin under her nails, the DNA belonged to Michael Lyons. Ring a bell at all?”

I opened
my mouth to speak
,
and suddenly
I was barreled over with a memory
,
o
ne that I had forgotten about. At the time it was insignificant and lost
in all
the events.

“I hate Mike Lyons,”
Mandy
said to me, that day, that fateful day. “He pushes me around and calls me ugly.”

“You’re not ugly and don’t let him push you around.”

“I didn’t, he pushed me today
,
and I scratched him. I scratched him good.”

“You should have just told a teacher
,
” I said to her. “Now go get ready for the party, finish your homework. I have errands to run.”

She scratched him. Scratched him good.

The skin under her nails.

“Pam?” Thomas called my name. “Do you know that name? Does it ring a bell?”

Without hesitation, I answered. “No. No
,
it doesn’t.” I wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Not at all. Not when I was so close to leaving. What if it would make a difference? I wasn’t taking that chance.

“Just thought I’d ask,” Thomas said. “And there’s one more thing before we leave.”

We were so close to walking
out
that door. “What is it?”

Stephanie
hesitated. “It may or may not mean anything. It is up to you what you want to do with the information. Seventeen and a half years ago, you gave birth to a child.”

I lowered my head. “
I remember. How could I forget? I never saw the child.”

“The state took the child,” she continued. “A paternity test was run
,
and the child was fathered by your ex
-
husband. It was done at his request. He raised the boy until his death. The boy lives with an aunt right now.”

Thomas added. “Because of the circumstances of the conviction,
the baby’s father
petitioned the court to seal the child’s identity and whereabouts from you.”

As painful as that was to hear, I understood and nodded.

“He contacted us when the news broke of you
r
acquittal
,
” Thomas said.

“Who did?” I asked.

“Your son,” Thomas an
swered. “He wants to meet you.”

“I don’t know.” I shook
my
head. “His life was better without me. I just don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe … who knows. One step at a time.”

And that’s what I did. One step at a time, right out the door.

A late afternoon call to my office from a state social worker named
Stephanie
Burrows
prompted
a complete
change in my plans.

I had challenged a friend to a round of golf; the weather was impressively warm for the last week of March.
But
Stephanie
was on her way to
Hartford
with Pam Dewar. Pam, as she said, may need to talk. To get to know me, in case she had to call me before our first official visit.

It was out of the ordinary, but then so were the circumstance
s
.

Stephanie
asked for my cellular number and a
prompt
text message
from her
told me
what she couldn’t
convey
verbally in
the
car
in front
of
Pam
.

‘She is
qui
et
and drawn. Seems in shock.’

Dire circumstances of her conviction aside, of course the woman would be
shell
shock
ed
. She had been institution
alized for eighteen years. Cars
changed, people
c
hanged, the
phone that Stephanie used
w
as a symbol from science fiction movies, the last
time
Pam Dewar was
out in
the wor
l
d.

The last
that
Pam was
out
in the world, not everyone had cable, there certainly wasn’t
internet,
and to add to the complications, cameras were flashing at her and reporters bombarded her like the paparazzi.

It had to be overwhelming.

Of course, I’d change my plans. I sent
my
office staff home early so Pam would have no other interaction when she arrived.

Just me.

In fact, I teetered on changing her appointments to later times so she didn’t deal with my staff
,
e
specially an office manager who feared her.

My office manager was never one
with the
ab
ility
to hide her facial expressions.

Just before five pm, Stephanie arrived with Pam Dewar. I asked Stepha
nie to wait in the outer office
while I spoke to Pam alone.

“This is just a brief
‘
get to meet me
’
visit,” I told Pam. “Nothing formal, nothing official. Okay
?
”

Pam stayed tight near the door as I made my way to the center of the office.

“Would you feel more comfortable in a chair? Couch
?
Where would you like me to sit?”

“I’ll sit in a chair. Your desk is fine.”

“That works
.
” I projected
feelings of
pleasant and calm. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, walking around to my desk.

“
No,” she spoke
meek
ly
.

“My name is Desmond Andrews. You can me Dr. Andrews, Des,
whatever
you like. Did Ms. Burrows give you a
l
l my contact information?”

“Yes, she did.”
She answered but didn’t make eye contact. She looked beyond me.

“Is there anything you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you been to your apartment yet?”

“Not yet. I was being shown around. It is overwhelming.”

I nodded. “I understand. They said you never watched television. Is that
true
?”

“Never.
”

“So a lot of everything today is new because you have never seen it. That has to be tremendous.”

“The last movie I saw in the theater was about a boy who went to the future. I feel like him.”

I passed a smile
to her
. “That is something you should write about. I know I would find it fascinating.”

“Why am I here?”

Her question was sudden and it seemed abrupt. “I told you this is informal. Just to meet me. We’ll talk further on our
first
appointment. Is there a reason you asked
?
”

“I just
thought
I was going to my new home. That’s all.”

A twitch.

I saw it but wasn’t sure that Pam realized she had done so. She twitched her head to the right. Twice and quick
, like
a double tap. “And you shall. Can we go over the medication they have you on before you do?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you know what it’s for and when to use it.”

“Stephanie has the bag.”

“Okay, no problem. Let’s get Stephanie and then you can begin
your new life. Is that alright? I won’t keep you.
”

She nodded and again, didn’t make eye contact. I stood and walked to the door to get Stephanie. I passed off the tempered demeanor, lack of eye contact
,
and twitches to nervousness,
distrust
in
her new
surroundings
,
and
made a mental not
e
to look for those things on our first official visit.

I looked once more at her as I called Stephanie
into the room
.
Pam
projected a very timid and even
victimized person
. It was the first time I was ever face to face with her. I was taken aback
slightly
by her appearance.
I expected a
hard-
edged looking woman
.
Worn. But she wasn’t.
She was plain, her hair flat and short.
Not a
wrinkle
on her face.
She didn’t wear makeup
,
and she was petite. Then again, she just left the hospital.
That could explain her presentation
.
Upon our next visit I could very easily see a different side.
I kind of hoped I would.

Perhaps because I buried her, I don’t know.
But I didn’t handle Pam
’s
release well
. It was no longer a rumor
;
it was a reality.
And with it, returned the bad.

Years of contemplation made me realize that even before her family was killed, Pam caused people to leave my life.

It was happening again. All over
again
. I was losing people. They started disappearing from my life. Not wanting to talk to me. All in a couple
of
days?

Not even members of my fellowship group were returning my calls or emails. Did they suddenly find something about me that disturbed
them, that
made them run
?
Pam had been released from her mental prison not three days earlier
,
and it was
already
eating at my soul.

With good reason.

Every day there was something on the news. The most disturbing was a morning program that talked to a young man who claimed to be her son.

He said how his father raised him and said very little
about his mother
.
He
felt the need to find her, talk to her, since she was acquitted.

“So your
father
didn’t
tell you who she was
?
” The reporter asked.

“No, he said she was dead.”

“He never spoke of what she was accused of?
Did he tell you about your brother and
sisters?
”

“He said they were all killed in a fire together,” he replied.

“How did you find out?”

“After he died, my aunt told me
.
S
he was vague. I looked into it.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Scared and shocked. At first I thought he just wanted to protect me. Then I started to think, after they said she was going to be acquitted, that maybe he didn’t say anything because he said she did. Maybe he was
protecting
someone else and knew all along she was
innocent
.”

I didn’t hear the rest of the interview.
It enraged me so that I shut off the television. Protecting
someone?
Innocent
? She
was
acquitted
.
Acquitted
does not mean
innocent
. Not to me.

And Richie raised this child? I didn’t know that. Maybe that was why Richie moved away. So I wouldn’t see
the
child
. How do we even know
it was her child and not some publicity stunt by a random
stranger?

I called
off
work;
I couldn’t get out of my pajamas
.
F
or some
reason
Pam
’s
return
into society was driving me nuts. I didn’t feel safe, not at all.

I also
grew
angry and bitter. If the young man on the talk show was indeed her son, why did she
deserve
to have
that?
It was like
a consolation
prize.

Her children were slaughtered and she still had him?

She did nothing to deserve seeing him. To make matters worse, the
young
man’s name was Justin.

That was my son’s name. How did she end up with a child that was alive? Why did she get her son knocking
on her
door and not me?

The
whole
release of Pam from the criminal system felt like a huge injustice. It was wrong, dead wrong
.
  Those of us who lived the ordeal when the kids were killed, those of us who felt as if we should have seen it coming and somehow could have stopped
it
, those
of
us who remember what Pam did
will never forget.

She caused the death of her children. She did.

When she goes looking for the true killer and why her family was killed, she only needs to look in the mirror. She was the reason.

Originally my plan was to stay away, stay far away. Eventually the bitterness and anger over her release would pass.

Then I started to worry, and a fear engulfed me that she wasn’t just seeking some sort of delusional truth of her children’s killer, she was coming after me. Because I was part of it all that put her away.

I could keep running or I could stop her. Send her back to the place she belonged. DNA or not, she wasn’t supposed to be free. I had
the
feeling
that sending her back
started with that young man on the television named Justin.