The First 48

On November 7, 2002 at 3:47 a.m. I received a call from my grandfather requesting my presence at his home as soon as possible as my uncle had "gone crazy." As my car pulled up to my grandparent's home on the south side of Chicago, dozens of police officers milled around the front of the home seeking a way to gain entrance. On the ground beneath my grandfather's window lay the body of my uncle, knife in hand, eyes wide open. Within the house, in the closet in my grandfather room lay my grandmother's body, strangled, bludgeoned and stabbed beyond recognition, preventing an open casket at her funeral. That night comes back to me in flashes, triggered by a smell, a sound, a familiar phrase that I thought I had forgotten but still sits in my unconscious. . . Two years and some days later, I stood at the side of my father's body, grasping a still warm hand and trying with every fiber of my being to will some life into it. I remember his face, prostrate in death with some sort of resuscitation system protruding from his mouth, but that memory comes and goes. In similar flashes, I always remember his hands, and how large and callous they were, and the fact that they were still warm and pliable, as if he would wake up at anytime to tell me not to change the channel because he was just "resting his eyes."

Since then, it occurred to me that I watch a lot of crime. My husband and friends find this to be morbid, but I spend the majority of my television time watching people who have or will have some direct involvement with the penal system. At first it was Law and Order, but soon the crimes became predictable and boring. I used to watch forensic files but there are only so many paint and fiber samples out there before you realize - OKAY you can't get away with crime. I get it. So now its reality t.v. I will watch ANYTHNG - prison documentaries, court shows, serial killer documentaries, medical examiner specials, you name it. . . And then I found The First 48. For those of you not familiar, its an hour long show that focuses on the first 48 hours after a murder has been committed. It features real footage, real crime, and no fairy tales or reenactments. I mentioned this show to my mother, who whistled in disgust and told me that she couldn't stand to watch anything like that because "it's just too sad."

And at that moment, it occurred to me what that is exactly why I like it.

The flashes of the body always show the hands and the feet, a dramatic piano chord emphasizing the change in camera angles. The officers work so diligently to try to figure out what happened and depending on where they are, Little Haiti or Liberty City or Phoenix, or Memphis, and do their best to catch the killer. I like to think that the officers who were at my grandmother's house spent as much time piecing together a story, but I can only dream right? There are family members who need to be notified. I wait with baited breath as a mother, who looks much like mine, is told that her youngest son has been found dead in the street. She falls to the ground, much like my mother did, and wails. I study this and I wonder how grief became such a universal feeling, and that nothing is more of an assault on the senses than the cries of someone in grief. The stoic are forgotten, as I was, the one who chose not to share with the world that I was in complete misery. Instead I watch the grief of others, unable to outwardly identify and commiserate. Every night I tune into A & E, knowing what every wail, every question, thought, blank stare and fallen tear means.

Its not something that I am proud of. I troll the news reading the most grotesque stories and wait for whatever MOST SHOCKING episode is coming on next to see if there is the opportunity to understand and identify with. Does that make me sick? Iono. Probably. When I'm sad, I listen to sad music. Why? Because whoever wrote or sang the song understands what the hell I'm feeling right now, and that's all i really want - Someone who can say "Hey, I been there, too, and in fact, i wrote a song about it. Like to hear it? Here it go." If I were ever asked why I watch these shows, I would become defensive and deny that there is anything wrong with it, and to me, there isn't. I am surrounded by people who will never know what its like to make funeral arrangements or write an obituary for someone who you just spoke to yesterday, and every day I lead them to believe that I am just like them - that I don't know what's its like to have to keep your composure when your heart is broken. But for an hour every night, and if i'm lucky even two, there is at least someone out there who knows what its like to hear that your world - from this day forward and forever, will be changed and it will TOTALLY SUCK- and I find comfort in that.