Chapter 2

Bobby was immediately concerned when he found the door to the trailer open. He remembered the extra locks that Julie had installed to protect herself against her father. He hoped the reason it was open now was because she was expecting him to arrive before Van Daddock.

"Julie?" he called as he pushed through the door, pulling it behind him to the same partially closed position behind him. Getting no reply, he turned towards Julie's bedroom.

Muriel maintained her vigil. She noted the crack of light at the door was still there. She gave a quick prayer that her young neighbor across the street was all right. She wondered if she should call 911 again.

When Bobby reached the doorway of Julie's bedroom, he froze in shock at seeing her lying on the floor in her new dress. He rushed to her side, crying her name. He hurriedly felt her wrist for a pulse but couldn't find one. He jumped up and ran to the central room of the trailer where the phone was, and dialed 911.

"Nine One One, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"There's a girl here that's down, unconscious, and I couldn't find a pulse, please send an ambulance!"

"What is the address there?" asked the 911 operator immediately, while at the same time noting the address that their phone system associated with the incoming call. It was the same operator that had taken Muriel Wilson's earlier call, and recognizing it as the same address, she put two and two together and came up with trouble.

"I don't know the address here! What should I do?" asked Bobby, fighting down the feelings of panic that threatened to engulf him.

"Please stand by one moment sir. I know where you are, let me get help on the way," she said. She quickly engaged another operator with instructions to escalate the priority on Muriel's earlier call to immediate response priority, and to add the need for medical as well as police response.

She then switched back to the line Bobby had called on. "Sir? Help is on the way, sir. Sir? Are you there?"

She checked her equipment and confirmed that the line was still open. But no one was on the other end now. "Shit!" she said quietly.

Pete Riordan was still struggling with his domestic dispute call, using a patrol cop's hard earned street psychology to try to calm the couple down. He had gotten them out of the screaming phase, but they were still glowering and threatening each other. He had just begun trying to convince them to seek marriage counseling help, when his radio squawked again.

He was directed to respond to the earlier possible gunshot call immediately, unless his current call was a life or death situation. He hesitated to leave, fearing the couple could explode again — and there were young children in the house.

He went into hurry up mode to neutralize the problem in front of him. But it was still almost five minutes later before he finally felt they had calmed enough to safely leave them. He ran to his cruiser and lit up the lights and siren, speeding off to reach the reported gun shot address as quickly as he could safely manage. He hoped that another patrol car had been able to break off their calls to respond faster than him.

None had.

The brief moment that the operator had left Bobby on the phone was enough time for him to decide there was no point in him staying on the line. The 911 operator had said that help would be on the way, and his being on the phone wouldn't do Julie any further good. He dropped the handset on the counter to leave the line open in case they needed that to find them, and rushed back to Julie.