MINDFUL COMMITMENT
By Kyrica Veney
Newly Released E-Book Version
2/4/12
Published by Kyrica Veney © 2012
I'd like to dedicate this book to my husband and my mother. You two have led an amazing support team of family and friends. As I embark on this new journey, and start many others, I know you will be with me every step of the way. Love you Tai and Mom. Special thank you to:
Aunt Missy, A.M. Filion, & S.S. Luby
Synopsis
Mindful Commitment is a mind-boggling suspense thriller that will capture your attention from beginning to end. When world-renowned professor of Anthropology, Dr. Emma Sanchez, is sentenced and committed to a mental health facility after being found guilty for the brutal stabbing of her husband, her wealthy family will stop at nothing to prove her innocence. First things first, they must prove Emma is not insane as authorities are painting her out to be. For weeks Emma had been experiencing psychological disturbances with no just cause. Called to the case is psychologist and friend, Dr. Renee Parrish who is determined to locate the root of Emma's illness, and free her from the charges set against her, but which comes first? Throughout the journey, Dr. Parrish uncovers things about her friend, which she could never imagine possible. This suspenseful read is full of twists and the unthinkable... Can you handle the commitment? Do you dare to learn the truth?
The Beginning is the End
Inside The House on the Marcum Estate I sat in a big comfy chair. The family room was warm and cozy considering the cold gloomy day we were having outside. As the snow continued to fall in the minus ten-degree weather, I felt protected. Like a big comfy blanket shielded me all over thanks to the crisp heat being let off by the fireplace. As the wood crackled while the fire burned, I glimpsed over at the window; the snowflakes would melt as they hit the windowpane. In my subconscious I could hear their joyous laughs as they all shared stories, which is a welcoming change from a few weeks ago. Despite all that happened there has already been tremendous improvement, not only in her, but in us all. In some way, each and every one of us in this room had been affected by... well... let’s just say we all fell into place somewhere. Whether a friend, co-worker, son, daughter, mother, or father, we all lived through something so surreal, it was life changing. Because of what happened, memories were created and lessons were learned.
What I am experiencing today, from the view of a psychologist, is like a prison break... freedom from all the things that have once held us locked away. My face hurts because I cannot stop smiling. Listening to them share their stories, is like being home with the family on Christmas day. There is a newfound sense of happiness, which I’ve learned this family started to lose some time ago.
Thinking back, I have to be grateful that this lively, energetic, human-loving being, was gracious enough to approach me in a crowd where I clearly stood out. Excusing herself from a group of what appeared to be highly regarded individuals was the first thing I noticed. As she stood in front of me and extended her hand, she introduced herself as Emma Sanchez, a new associate professor at the university and soon to be Dr. Sanchez. I introduced myself back to her as Renee Parrish. It was during a Young Professionals Convention held at St. Catherine University in the dead of a Minnesota winter. Emma could tell I was new in town because she said she knew just about everyone around, and she had never seen me before. Wittedly she was joking. Come to find out my short sleeve blouse and summertime skirt gave me away. Hey, being Floridian by nature and just arriving into town, I found myself having nothing to accommodate the weather. Not to mention, I could barely afford my decision to relocate in hopes of becoming successfully independent.
The two of us seemed to be complete opposites, mostly in appearance, but clearly she came from money and I did not. Emma was tall, with pretty blue eyes and long blonde hair that had the most perfect lowlights, and her outfit that day was gorgeous. Me, not so much, I was short, have dark brown eyes, and a brunette. I’m a little taller now a day due to my professional attire, which requires stilettos. From that day at the convention in spite our obvious differences Emma reached out to me, and we’ve kept in contact since. However, it wasn’t until about six years ago we became closer outside of the professional environment more than likely because I was around a lot. In addition to running a private counseling firm I thought it’d be nice to bring my knowledge to a classroom. I’ve worked extremely hard over the years to get to this point in my career, so to share it with the up and coming would be like a reward is what I was thinking. I started to observe Emma and a couple of her co-workers before actually making the commitment to becoming an instructor. St. Kate's is where Emma introduced me to her teaching partner Andrew, the tall handsome Doctor of Anthropology. His eyes were deep and mesmerizing, and his voice, the same. I have to admit, when we first met his looks and demeanor -being so charming- made it hard for me to focus on his professionalism. Andrew's seductive model-like features could make any woman's mind stray. However, looking beyond, those two are great friends to have, which I feel certain of more and more each day.
The laughter in the room grew louder interrupting my thoughts. Mr. Marcum and his extremely deep belly laugh was enough to make a crying man grin without reason. With his Deep South accent he told the story about when he and Mrs. Noreen bought their first farm.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, and Noreen was just a small town girl who went around picking daisies and saving stray kitties,” he chuckled. “That’s why I fell in love with her. Her heart was so sweet and soft, and she had a place in it for just about everyone. That’s how she was able to soften me up. She played hard to get at first, but in due time, just as I told her, she was mine!”
“Aw, Pop.” Rachel blurted out from behind him.
“Well, it’s the truth Sweet pea, and that’s why I think all the ladies in my life have such kind, forgivin', and believin' hearts.” We all knew the direction his story was headed, so Andrew quickly gave Edward a detour.
“And the farm sir? How’d you tap into the market, let alone make your brand one of the top producers in the industry?”
“Women,” Edward said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, one woman in particular. My wife. Before I asked her to marry me, I said to her what would make you happy honey. Because on that particular day when I decided to POP the question, she was sad... tears rollin’ all down her face. Come to find out her papa and brother Charles had just been laid off from their jobs over at the mill, and she worried about where they’d get the money to keep the house and support the family. She was jokin’, but she said to me... create lots of jobs, so good people don’t have to worry like I do."
Everyone in the room was quiet. Taken aback by Edward and his story. “Noreen didn’t know my parents left me a lot of money when they passed. I was alone with the home I grew up in, workin, and attendin’ college. No place to spend the money... no one to spend it on,” he paused for a second. “So, I made her agree to marry me. And the very next day we went to the county court house, got married, and as soon as the licensed was stamped and the ink was dry! We went out and bought a farm.”
“The Sir Charles Estate” I interrupted, because now I get it.
“Yup, the Sir Charles Estate. Noreen's family handles that location back in Georgia. We made enough money with that farm to buy another, and from the next one another. One thing I did learn from my schoolin is -to be successful, you have to be amongst the best of the best competitors. So, that’s what we did... we tapped into every crop market out there. Farms producing everywhere... People workin’, people happy, and people with jobs.”
Edward leans in my direction and whispers; “I think that’s the only way I’m able to keep my wife, by keepin’ everyone employed. It can’t be my Colonel Sanders look, ya think?”
Noreen, in a pressed cotton dress, pale yellow in color, smacks him softly on his shoulder. She rolls her eyes. She is a dainty woman. Her hair, always so perfect, it's as if she pin curls it every night. As I look at her and she gives what appears to be a genuine smile. It all makes sense to me now. This family is built on a sound, morally guided, family-driven foundation. So everything they do, or have ever done has a purpose. Clearly, I can see why Emma is the way she is- kind, soft hearted, and caring. I now realize this is why her family refused to give up on her.
Just as I finish my thought I look over at Emma who has moved to the other side of the room, sitting as if she were shackled. With a faint smile on her face, clearly trying to hide her true expression, she starts to laugh hysterically. Shocking to everyone because her reaction came from nowhere, we all rush toward her. With her voice still weak and words a little jumbled she says slowly “If I love. Why did they tell me I killed him? Why is my heart and me locked away?”
The beautiful educated woman with the long flowing hair that introduced herself to me at the convention, who has taught me so much about life and humanity, and whom I have grown to love as a dear friend, seemed lost at that moment. Her eye’s, which have always been clear, could see there was so much more to her story than was being said. It's true. We have all tried to shelter her from her reality. Mostly, and selfishly out of fear, yet protection.
Through the same clear blue eyes I could see a broken woman. As she sat hunched over with her hair in a bun. She looked over at me yet again with that familiar look. “Renee. Tell me the truth. Tell me all. Help me know as it happened.”
Slowly, I walked even closer toward her so that I could look her in the eyes, “But I don’t want to cause you any more pain," I said. "Not now, let’s just wait a bit.”
From what seemed to be the pit of her inner being, Emma stood up and walked over to a stand, which sat in the corner of the room. Out of the drawer she pulls a picture. It was Antonio.
“This was my husband. A man I have known for more than half my life. He was smart. He worked hard for everything. In the mornings when I wake up, I feel nothing but emptiness and cold sheets beside me. I feel like I have crushed our dreams because I left him. Where is he now?”
Still speaking slowly, but with more power and clarity, Emma walks across the room toward Rachel. “This is you,” she says as she points to the picture. “You look just like him. Your smile, so big; your eyes, so dark and mysterious, and your personality...” she stops speaking to laugh quietly.
Just as she does, Rachel starts to cry and stands to her feet. “I am not him! I do not have his eyes! And I will never smile again if my smile is a reflection of him!”
Confused by what Rachel had said, Emma falls to her knees and starts to cry as she grips her stomach in pain. “What did you do Rachel? What happened? I need to know. Someone please tell me! Please, please... ”
A room that housed laughter only a minute ago suddenly became flooded with Emma's begging. As she yelled over and over, "please, please," her agony became too much for me to bear. Andrew kneeled down to help her up and walked her over to the chair. I look at Mr. and Mrs. Marcum and I say, “It’s time. She's ready.”
Emma has to know exactly what happened, someone has to fill in the blanks. Her acute cognitive dysfunctions are only side effects right now, but just as they come and go... one day they just might stay, and it’s more likely to happen if we do not address them. As I said before, what was happening in this room, with this group of people, on this day, was like a prison break... freedom from all of the things that have once held us locked away. Only for Emma, her internal captivity was stagnant. There was a simple solution to release her from what locked her down, the one thing that could possibly, eventually set her free...the truth. Looking around the room for any objection it was evident we all seemed to agree. Someone had to help her face her reality once and for all. I pulled up a chair and placed it directly in front of Emma.
Before I began, I grabbed her by the hands, "Please brace yourself as best as you can. You have been through a lot, and as I rehash some of your memories it may become overwhelming, but we are all here to help you get through this."
"I can handle it, please" she prompted me to go ahead as the tears filled her eyes making them unrecognizable, so I did.
I began the story with the truth and nothing but the truth, leaving no details unrevealed. And although we were living in the midst of the end... I had to start from the beginning... at least where I came into play.
Chapter 1: Where I came into play: Dr. Renee Parrish
“Good Evening. Today is Thursday February 3rd. This evening’s news is coming to you live from downtown St. Paul, at the city’s courthouse, where inmate Emma Sanchez will soon be transported to the Westview Mental Health Facility. For those of our viewers not familiar with this case, Dr. Sanchez, a highly known professor of Anthropology at St. Catherine University, was accused of first degree murder after her husband was found brutally stabbed to death in the bedroom of the couple’s family home. Authorities say that all evidence leads to Dr. Sanchez as being the prime suspect in the case, and she is in fact... guilty of murder.
Now Gina I have to say, there were reports that Sanchez was undergoing psychotic episodes, so we’ve talked to at least two physicians involved in the case, who have both emphatically concurred, that Dr. Sanchez had been experiencing mental instability recently.
This may come as a surprise to most because Emma Sanchez is widely known in the community not only as the powerhouse professor, but author of several self-help and world exploration books. Not to mention Dr. Emma Sanchez is the daughter of business moguls Edward and Noreen Marcum of Marcum Enterprises. The family has requested that the details of the case be left private for personal reasons. However, being as this is a high profile case, we here at channel 3 news have some late-breaking developments that will be brought to you exclusively... later on in the broadcast. Gina, back to you.”
I couldn’t listen anymore, so I shut off the TV. As soon as I placed the remote on the stand next to me the telephone rang. I answered with a slight hesitation in my voice because I never received phone calls this late in the evening. “Hello?” I asked, as the voice on the other end replied a little raspy.
“So I gather you have been keeping up with the news?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Was I being watched? I had no clue whose voice this was on the other end of the line. I prompted to ask with whom I was speaking, but before the words came out the man said his name was Edward Marcum and we had met a few years back. According to the man his daughter Emma was very fond of my work and said that I was one of the best in my field. I thanked him for his kind words and asked exactly what I could do for him. I expressed how sorry I was that he and his family were going through this tough ordeal. I started to inform him of how close Emma and I had become over the years, but before I could, he immediately halted me as I spoke and with an authoritative voice replied,
“Stop being sorry and be helpful!”
All I could say was “I beg your pardon?” and he silently mumbled his apologizes.
I had nothing but sympathy for Mr. Marcum and his family, as I could only imagine the pain and shock they were experiencing. Dr. Emma Sanchez is a pillar of the community and in many other countries for that matter. She has done extensive amounts of work for the betterment of several others, so for her to be accused of murder made no sense at all.
From this, I share the same feeling as the family. Settling to believe that my child is guilty of murder would not be tolerable; especially when there is no doubt in mind that she is not capable of such a heinous act. Before hanging up the phone and ending the conversation with Mr. Marcum I was asked if I would take over his daughter’s case. He declared there was no amount of money too precipitous; to get to the bottom of what was going on. I urged Mr. Marcum to be patient, if he may, and allow me time to meet with the doctors that had been handling Emma's file. I assured him that I would do my best to evaluate the situation from all ends and would be more than accepting to take over Emma’s case.
Instantly, the situation felt like a personal challenge of mine. To figure out exactly what happened, the events leading up to Emma’s breakdown, and the alleged night she supposedly killed her husband are now mine to conquer. I had full permission to dig as deep as I needed to. The Sanchez children were both away at college, so the family’s home was empty. Mr. Marcum instructed me that there is a key mounted at the base of the lion statue in the front garden area. It seems as though no one in the family has re-entered the house since that night so, things have been left untouched it’s still a crime scene.
The last words Edward Marcum spoke to me before hanging up the phone had a hint of desperation, “All of the other doctors are telling us to leave well enough alone. They say that Emma’s insanity is the only thing keeping her alive at this point, and to prove that she is not insane would kill her. That just don’t make sense to me Ms. Parrish. If it’s the last thing I do, I beg of you… help my baby girl. I know she did not do this, and I partly feel like I’m the blame for the way they’ve all been treatin’ her. You know. The doctors. The police. Everybody. ”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond. He just hung up the phone, but for some reason I didn’t blame him.
Throughout the night various thoughts consumed my head. In the blink of an eye, I was in the midst of chaos and hell, for lack of a better word. However, this is usually when I’m at my best, in the middle of turmoil that needs to be tamed. One thing about this entire situation, which doesn’t sit right with me –aside from the murder- in all my years of studying psychology I have never witnessed complete sanity diminish to an unrecognizable capacity. I could not wait to get started. As I tried to fall asleep Buddy curled up next to me and purred. He caressed my back with his spine. It was then that I realized my life would soon be back to normal, my Buddy and me with files on top of files. That’s my life, and I love it.
Tomorrow my plans included a visit to the facility where Emma is being held. By now the physicians have probably pried her and packed her body with all types of medications. My hopes are to gain sensible answers; I just have so many questions. I can’t believe I’ve been out of the loop this long. More recently I have let my work takeover my life, I thought a little vacation was what I needed. Traveling back home to Florida may not have been a wise decision. As fate would have it, Emma has been experiencing too much in too little time. Makes me question what fate has in store for the rest of us. My thoughts at this point are getting way ahead of me. I could only pray for the strength needed to find justification for an old friend who’s such a deserving person. I know Emma was recently convicted of murder, but murder and the Emma Sanchez I know, have no place together in the same sentence.
Before I knew it dawn drew near. The whole night, I fell in-and-out of sleep. Overcome with eagerness it took all that I had to patiently wait for the doors to open at the Westview facility. Arising with the morning sun was my anxiety. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect when I see Emma for the first time in this mess. In my professional judgment, facilities like Westview tend to over medicate before observing and devising an effective treatment plan. I hope for her sake this is not the case. After making myself presentable for the day, I grabbed my briefcase and a bagel then out the door I went.
Case File 44773: Dr. Emma Marcum-Sanchez
Outside the patient’s window
(Click. Recording started)
This is Dr. Renee Parrish, and this is recorded notation number one of new patient, Dr. Emma Marie Marcum-Sanchez. Assigned to patient as a request of Dr. Sanchez's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Edward and Noreen Marcum, of Marcum Produce Industries and Enterprises. Assigned to case no. 44773 the fourth day of February 2012. Client will now be referred to, from here on out, simply as Emma. Initial intake of patient suggests complete inactivity with social surroundings and external environment; the patient has a placid disposition. Mental note: obtain client’s files and examine for review of medical evaluation upon being committed to the Westview Mental Health Facility. Must examine Emma’s background and complete case files to extenuate any probable causes of client’s current condition. The patient has been in states custody for 42 days and counting. Before completion of diagnosis…
“Renee!” (Click. The recording stops)
“Renee, is that you?” a deep voice called as it rapidly approached me from down the hall
“Oh, Dr. Williams how are you?” I asked.
“Andrew. Please I insist. After all, we are outside of the work environment, and I am rather well, considering…”
“Yeah,” I agreed as I sighed. “How did she get like this? I mean one minute she is perfectly fine, writing, traveling, teaching, and the next she’s charged with murder and committed to a mental institution? It just doesn't add up, you know? One and one is not equaling two.”
Andrew seemed rather concerned and confused all at once. He stated that he and Emma had lunch the Friday before she started acting strange. Of course I only wanted to interrogate him and pry anything out of him that he could possibly know about what changed her mental capacity and prompted her current condition.
“I haven’t seen you around campus lately… losing interest in what goes on at St. Kate’s?” He asked me with that dazed look that he always seems to have. It’s as if he’s attempting to hypnotize whomever he comes in contact with.
“Nooo” I hesitated. “I’ve been… traveling. You know, thought I’d take a break from work, do some traveling, or EXPLORING I should say when conversing with you.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.
“Looking for a husband?”
I had to laugh out loud. This was simply his way of trying to hold onto the brighter side of our conversation. Quickly, I changed the subject. Although I knew Andrew was just picking with me because he has made it his personal conquest to find me an “intimate partner” other than my work, I had to focus... Focus on Emma’s early run-ins with her exhibits of psychosomatic behavior. This was typical Andrew. From all the time I’ve spent observing he and Emma’s lectures, and hearing about their expeditions and journeys, I've learned a few personal attributes of theirs. I must say anthropologists have always been very amusing to me.
Emma has written several books that cover her trips to South Africa and parts of Europe. If I am not mistaken, she may have been in the process of writing again about her most recent travels to Haiti. Could perhaps her illness be a result of something she had contracted while abroad? I don’t know... She was always working with local expatriate workers, and in small remote villages administering volunteer medical services in foreign countries. There’s a host of probable causes for her illness. If only I could pinpoint the exact one. I’m more than certain the doctors here at the institution have considered all these possibilities; it’s only a matter of reading over her files to find out exactly which ones.
“Well Andrew, I know you’ve been questioned over and over again, and I am sure I will read all of your statements somewhere, in some file, but I may have additional questions once I go over everything. Would it be a problem if I contacted you should that be the case?
“Of course not!” He exclaimed with deep compassion in his voice.
Apparently he had been visiting Emma every day since she has been going through whatever it is she’s experiencing. At the first sign of Emma hearing voices, it was Andrew who suggested she seek help, or at least talk to someone. I’m not quite sure if his suggestion caused any emotional strain on their relationship. At this point from my personal perspective, no matter the cost I vow to myself and her family, I will get to the bottom of things, if it is the last thing I do. It’s such a mystery to me. Maybe this is why I feel extra compelled. An unexplained newly found research subject. The only thing is the subject is someone I consider to be a close friend, almost like family.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you. I’m gonna go meet with her doctors, get updated, and you know go over some files and stuff.”
“Oh, certainly,” he says to me as I turn to walk away. I pause for a second and watch him look into the window of Emma’s door. I’m not sure why he didn’t just walk in, but as I walked away I could feel hope in the air. Emma has made such an impression on a lot of people that no human being in their right mind could settle for what has happened to her, and definitely not the results of the trial.
At the nurse’s station Emma’s observing doctor was waiting for me. He directed me to his office. He informed me Emma’s blood results and intake evaluations were noted in her file. There was no indication that Emma had been drugged, was using drugs, or had been abusing any substances for that matter. I asked about any foreign diseases being present, and he informed me that all of her test results came back normal. Except for traces of Neuroleptics and Benzodiazepines, which are being administered, her systems were clean and functioning exceptionally. Emma was also being treated with Luminal, which is a sedation medication that aids in helping clients to reduce anxiety and fear, and helps them to sleep.
Before I left his office, the burly doctor who seemed clueless was sure to update me, “She was experiencing a stressful time in her life, and we all know that psychosomatic illnesses are often believed to be, all in the head.” He gestured with the two finger quotations.
I smirked at his remarks, and assured him with a no bullshit attitude “Emma may be all in her head, but not for reasons surrounding insanity or illness. As a doctor who serves by a Hippocratic Oath, you sure have done a piss poor job ethically. What happened to I will follow that system of regimen, which according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients? Or how about abstaining from whatever is deleterious and mischievous? Was it your pompous ass who suggested to the family –if Emma wasn’t declared insane, she’d be sentenced to death, so her insanity is what’s keeping her alive? Instead of a vowel, buy a clue, and figure out what your purpose is in life!” I slammed the door and walked out.
I was just past the nurse’s station when I heard him yell, “I want to find out what’s wrong with her just as much as you do!” If only I could believe him. He annoyed me so much I didn't even bother to use or remember his name. Random doctors like him often take what they've learned from other practitioner's cases and run with it, as opposed to thoroughly researching for each individual patient, as they should be.
Emma’s parents have put out triple the money in research and doctors to help her in such a short duration of time, but who could blame them? I don’t know her parents all that well because we’ve only had brief encounters, but how proud they must be of her. A successful philanthropist and anthropologist she has become. Emma has a beautiful family, two children who are both now in college, and a husband who was an astounding and very intelligent man. Not to mention a federal government employee, highly classified I must add, so you can only imagine how important his job must have been. Whatever it was he did... By the time I finished my thoughts I was in my car and my blood pressure had gone down.
After leaving Westview I made my way home. I fed the cat and snuggled up in a blanket with a glass of wine and started combing through Emma’s files. Everything read like textbook material. Outlined evaluations diagnosing Emma according to the DSM-IV, code number 293, delirium due to general medical conditions. The more and more I read, the less and less her condition made sense. Although she displayed symptoms of delirium, Emma had no preexisting conditions to fore warn anyone that she was headed down this road. In my line of work, I have come across a diversified compilation of psychological cases, and studied so many walks of life. Never once have I seen anyone deteriorate to such an extent with no medical explanation to back it. Studies of the brain, outside influences, and even internal processes had no reflection on what Emma was going through. I have to get to the bottom of this. Her children are depending on me, her parents are depending on me, and Emma is depending on me.
Figuring the best place to start would be to locate anything missing from her files. The problem is, everything is here. What in the hell is going on? She had been back from her last trip for well over six months. If anything were affecting her as a result of something she may have come in contact with, or contracted abroad, they would have surfaced way before now. What Emma is experiencing seems like someone’s convoluted way of messing up her life and getting inside the heads of everyone whom surrounds her. Just then I remembered the doctor at Westview telling me that she was experiencing stressful times. Although it was noted, the details of such stressors were not. Maybe this was what triggered her psychosis, who knows at this point.
Emma had apparently become obsessed with voices in her head telling her things, bad things, good things, things she had no clue about. Apparently, it was all in her head. I guess I really should visit the police station to pull any additional files they have, or I should say, willing to share. Maybe there's something evident from the night of the murder, or events leading up to, which will assist me with which direction I need to take. Oh boy, what am I getting myself into? I cannot believe that I am questioning myself, or my abilities, but when you have personal interest in a case your desires can become your fixations, and you start to create scenarios and possibilities, losing sight of exactly what's in front of you. This was something I did not want to do.
Over the course of the next week, I visited Emma’s room every day. I observed her to see if there was any recollection of a world that was once real to her. I swore for one second on my fourth visit that her eyes twitched at me as if she were trying to communicate somehow. Maybe this was a false sense of hope, or that fixation possibility that I am so afraid of. If anything, it’s probably a reaction to the medications she’s been given. According to the doctors, when she was admitted, in addition to everything else she was expressing symptoms of pseudocyesis. This was totally unbelievable because the condition is so rare. The rate for woman believing they are pregnant and experiencing actual pregnancy symptoms are about one to six for every twenty thousand plus births. That was just too odd. Way too odd. This is a woman who is so on top of things, and would probably visit the doctor for an unexplained rash at the sign of the first pimple. How could she believe that she was pregnant? What did this have to do with anything? What did this have to do with the voices?
(Click)
Inside the patient’s room. No visible change in current condition. To date the patient has been in custody for forty-nine days (February 11, 2012). She had first displayed signs of delirium on November 6, 2011, while in the lecture hall listening to presentations. Students were delivering depictions of scenes from a reading assignment, “Japanese Americans: From Relocation to Redress.” During the deliveries, a student stated that Professor Sanchez cried out “who’s whispering…who said that.” Class was later dismissed and instructed to reconvene where they left off on Monday. The unfortunate incident would occur approximately forty-three days from this day, which places the murder on the evening of December 19, 2011. (Mental note) confer with observing physician to monitor intake of daily meds. Suggest a lesser dose in attempts to reconnect with patient in hopes to reestablish sanity subsequent to being detained. Need to, at this point, monitor home life and note any ties, which may have increased current mental condition. Ending recorded notation number seven.