The file boxes given to me always make me a little sad. We’ve all seen police evidence file boxes on TV. They’re always packed with file folders bursting with phone records, financial records, photographs and notes. There are plastic bags containing bloody weapons, stained clothes and tiny carpet fibres. Tehre are paper bags holding soil evidence and dirty shoes. All of this pieces of evidence tell a small story that when pieced together tell a grad tale and point the finger at decidedly one culprit. Historical Cases’ file boxes are not like this. These boxes rattle, they don’t weigh more than a pound or so and there’s never more than one per case. The one Dave opened for me nearly broke my heart. There was a thin beige file folder inside holding only a few sheets of paper and a little old shoe box. To me these evidence boxes are like a funeral with five mourners. Clearly the dead is loved, but it seems a shame that he is loved by so few. Then, of course, the love of five may very well be deeper than the love of a hundred. [yes, I do think we’re foreshadowing the story of Archie here] I know that Lisa and Dave really care about these cases. Even twenty or fifty years later the victims of these crimes have people, perfect strangers really, who care enough to search for justice. It is a privilege to be part of this work.
NaNoWriMo Words – Day 4