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Dear Diary:January 29th

On the news tonight they reported that the body of a James Smith was found. He (cops don’t know this) was one of the pigs who raped me and Holly. I know it was the Jimmy Smith who raped me because they had his picture. How many others, both trans and cisgender girls, have they raped? This asshole won’t rape any more. They are also reporting that it was a serial killer who got Jimmy outside a bar. First, Dr. Frankenstein then one of my rapists killed 24 hours later.

Again I have no memory of the last two nights when Dr. Frankenstein and James Smith were killed. The TV people told us when it was and I tried to remember where I was, what I was doing at that time. Just like my Mom, and Alice Griebler and Dr. Miller, nothing, not a thing came back to me. And, except for Mom, according to the news, they were all killed the same way, with a claw hammer. Why can’t I remember? WHAT IS GOING ON? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Owen Jefferson arrived at his office before the night shift went home. He held brief, impromptu meetings with each of them getting status reports on several cases. He also left a note on Lucy Compton’s desk to let her know to see him when Melissa was also in.

Fresh morning coffee in hand, the two women went in without knocking.

“Have a seat,” Jefferson said. “After last night’s news leak about the claw hammer killings…”

“Have you seen today’s paper?” Lucy asked.

“No, what?”

“Philo Anson, The Klaw Hammer Killer,” Lucy said.

“Has a nice ring to it,” Melissa said.

“Cop humor,” Jefferson muttered.

“Owen, by five o’clock yesterday, how many people on the job, at the mayor’s office and county attorney knew about it?”

“Probably only about a hundred or so,” Jefferson said.

“It was bound to get out,” Melissa added.

“I was about to say, we’re up to our ass in alligators. The boss kicked me out of bed at five o’clock to stop the phone calls.”

“I’ll bet she was happy,” Melissa said.

“Delighted,” was Jefferson’s sarcastic reply.

“I’m assigning you two the claw hammer cases. They are connected somehow. I’ll put Shelby and Reggie Thomas together on a case. I’ve got another case for Reggie’s partner, Phil Benson. I may ask him to take over the woman, Priscilla…” he hesitated trying to remember Priscilla’s last name.

“Priscilla Powell,” Lucy said.

“That’s it, Powell,” Jefferson said.

“Don’t bother, that case is so cold it has frostbite,” Melissa said.

“Okay, you keep it, but don’t neglect it.”

“What are you doing with Clyde?” Lucy asked.

“Well, I can’t fire him and I can’t shoot him,” Jefferson replied .

“I can,” Melissa said.

Both Lucy and Jefferson looked at her with an inquisitive expression.

“I mean, if you’re looking for volunteers,” Melissa said.

Melissa Myles was a thirty-two year old attractive, single woman. Clyde Johnson was an old school misogynist.

“I’m thinking the next time he slaps my ass, I just might do it,” Melissa said.

“Why haven’t you put in a complaint?” Jefferson asked.

“What for, he’s a dinosaur. They’re dying off,” Melissa said.

“Bull. She likes it. The most she’s gotten in a year,” Lucy whispered just loud enough for Melissa to hear her.

“Yeah, there’s that, too,” Melissa said.

“All right, I want you to set up in Conference Room C. I’ll tell the others,” Jefferson said.

“Please tell me you’re not going to set up a tipline eight hundred number for people to call in to confess,” Lucy said.

“Not yet,” Jefferson said. “Besides we have maybe enough time before the next killing before it starts on its own.”

Andrea Brie, Doctor of Psychology, school psychologist for Sanger Middle School, unlocked her office door and went in. Another day in a job she loved helping children.

Andy, as she is commonly called, had her morning paper tucked under her arm. She also had a briefcase full of homework in her hand.

Her office windows faced west and the shades were drawn because of yesterday’s sunset. She opened them then poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thanks to whomever it was that thought of putting a clock on a coffee machine.

At her desk, as was her normal habit, she opened the paper while sipping the coffee. The A section, front page story almost jumped off the page at her. Serial killer on the loose in large font, bold lettering.

Of late, for some reason she could not explain, the deaths of Priscilla Powell and Alice Griebler had been tickling her mind as if forcing her to think about them. Now, it seems, there was at least one, and probably two, maybe three more. The one for sure catching her attention again was Philip Friedman.

As she was reading the story of the Klaw Hammer killer, the light, totally out of the blue, came on in her head. The connection. Priscilla, Alice, and Friedman. The transgender affirmation of Robert Craig-Powell. But who was this James Smith?

In the very last paragraph of the story, there was a minimal reference that this James Smith was suspected of involvement of sexual assaults, including the assaults of transgender women. An anonymous source within the police department had given this information to the reporter. It was also made abundantly clear that Smith had never been arrested or convicted.

Andy, of course, knew of the brutal attack and gang rape of Robbie. Horrified, she stared at the front page. Could it be possible? And what was her obligation? Robbie had been a patient years ago. Even that long ago she was still covered by the doctor-patient privilege. But, is this?

If a doctor has a credible and imminent threat of serious harm to an identifiable person, the privilege can be broken. Does Dr. Brie have such a credible and imminent threat to report? That was the question.

Andy stood and refilled her coffee. While doing this, and after, she paced around her office. At first she admitted to herself that she did not have the threat she needed. What she had was mere speculation and conjecture. Was that enough?

Ten minutes into her pacing, it suddenly occurred to her that the answer was yes. Or, at least, likely enough. Because the identifiable person on whose life was at risk was herself. Was Robbie seeking revenge upon the people she holds responsible for her trans life? It’s not at all unreasonable. Robbie murders, first her mother then Alice, Dr. Friedman and was James Smith part of the assault and rape?

There is also the surgeon although Andy could not remember his name. What about the surgical team?

It finally dawned on her that there could easily be quite a number of names on the list. A stab of panic and fear sent a shiver through her with this realization.

“Too many lives at risk,” Andy said out loud. “I have to call the police.”

At precisely 9:00 A.M. Lucy’s desk phone rang. After a very brief conversation, maybe a minute, Lucy concluded it by saying, “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Melissa, who had been listening asked, “Who, what, hey, tell me…”

“Let’s go,” Lucy said. She then leaned down almost to Melissa’s ear whispering, “That was Robbie Powell’s school psychologist from Sanger Middle School. She wants to talk to us. Says she may have some information.”

Fifteen minutes turned into almost a half-hour. No matter, Dr. Brie was still available.

“Okay, Dr. Brie…” Lucy started to say when they were all seated in her office.

“No, Detective, please, Andy. Everyone, even the students call me, Andy.”

“Okay, Andy, what do you have for us?”

“I’m not sure about this. Technically, Robbie is still a patient and our talks are privileged. A significant exception, of course, being future harm to herself or others.”

Get on with it , Melissa thought.

“I don’t believe Robbie ever really wanted the trans affirmation procedure. I’ve always felt a little guilty about it,” Andy said.

Spare me the excuse making , Melissa thought.

“And then she was raped and badly beaten, or so I heard.”

“She was,” Lucy said. “Did you know she tried to commit suicide?”

“Yes, after she injured that girl while playing volleyball. I heard about it from Dr. Friedman.”

“Moving on,” Lucy said.

“I believe Robbie may be angry enough to commit these murders. I know she was against the trans procedure. She told me she blamed Priscilla, his mother.

“Alice Griebler, the school nurse, pushed him pretty hard to do it. She didn’t like boys, so she agreed with Priscilla.

“Dr. Friedman was second only to Priscilla.”

“How do you know all this?” Melissa asked.

“Robbie came back to see me four times after she transferred to The Wheaton Academy. She was doing better but still not sold on becoming a girl. She told me she was on a runaway train that she could not stop.

“Then there’s this James Smith. The paper said he was killed the same way as the others, with a claw hammer. It also said he was a suspect in several rapes. The way they all died…”

“Except for Priscilla,” Lucy said.

“Yes, except for Priscilla. But even that, being smothered with a pillow. That could easily be an act of vengeance. Wake Priscilla up with a pillow over her mouth and nose. Let her see who is doing it to her.

“I don’t know. I just think they are tied together. Is it a stretch to believe James Smith was one of Robbie’s attackers? That Robbie found him?”

“She told us she didn’t remember anything,” Melissa said.

“Possible, but not likely. Even if she didn’t remember any of it at first, some of it usually comes back.”

“What do you think?” Melissa asked Lucy.

“Enough for a search warrant? If we go to the right judge.”

“Would you be willing to sign an affidavit spelling out what you told us?” Melissa asked Andy.

“Yes, I suppose. I’m not happy about it,” Andy replied.

“It might clear her, also,” Melissa said.

“That happens,” Lucy added .

“That would be a relief,” Andy said. “Okay how do you want to do this?”

“We’ll go back to police headquarters and write it up. Then we’ll email it to you with one of those electronic signature things. Read it over, make any changes or additions you want. Then sign it and it will come back to us,” Lucy explained.

“My card with my email address on it,” Andy said handing each of them one.

“We’ll have it done yet this morning. Thank you, Dr. Brie,” Lucy said.