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Excerpt from the Book
THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE
Tuesday February 5th, was the worst day of my life. It terrifyingly began with these ominous words shouted at me (THROUGH A BULLHORN) at 7:00 AM.
“Freeze…. Put your hands slowly out where we can see them.”
Naturally I froze….what else would I do? Then I slowly turned around to see at least eight police officers with guns drawn, aiming them directly at yours truly. Wasn’t this an overkill response for setting off the neighborhood canine alarm systems as I jogged by? Had I broken some Municipal Code in trotting around the community in outdated passé athletic attire?
One of the policemen broke away from the group walking slowly in my direction. Seeing me visibly shaking, he thankfully permitted me to sit down on the porch step.
“I am Detective James and we are from the Huntington Beach Police Department looking for Mr. Silva. Is he here?” he asked brusquely.
“I don’t think so. I haven’t seen him since last Friday,” I replied in a shaky voice. I hoped and prayed I wouldn’t have a childish accident requiring changing my underwear. Wasn’t this embarrassing enough? I could already see a number of the neighbors peeking through their mini-blinded windows hoping for some early morning entertainment. Better than the TV!
“We need some information. First of all, who are you and what is your relationship with Mr. Silva?” he continued as he pulled out a small spiral notepad and a blue Bic Pen.
Trying to quiet my nerves, I stated; “Look officer, I’m sorry but I really can’t help you much. My name is Julietta Jenkins, JJ for short, I’m 27 years old. I just moved in three weeks ago. Mr. Silva posted an ad on Craig’s List looking for a roommate. It’s a furnished room, utilities are included. The price is reasonable and it is fairly close to my job so I gave him a deposit and the first months rent. And I really don’t know where Mr. Silva is. In fact, I know very little about the man. I have probably only spoken to him four times in three weeks. He is rarely at home and I’m assuming he is a workaholic. Why are you looking for him?” This seemed a reasonable question to ask under the present circumstances.
“He shot his estranged wife and kidnapped his daughter.” Detective James stated matter-of-factly.
Okay…. I am probably not the sharpest tool in the shed, but was this some kind of sick joke? I mean you can’t say something horrendous like that so serenely, can you?
I must have looked like a complete idiot, mouth gaping open, sitting there staring at the very handsome Detective James.
Finally coming to my senses I said sarcastically; “Excuse me, I must have misheard you. Did you say Mr. Silva SHOT HIS WIFE AND KIDNAPPED HIS DAUGHTER?” I believe I screamed this but I’m not sure as I was beginning to feel very faint. There was a buzzing in my ears and my surroundings were getting exceedingly blurry.
I was also, at this very moment, regretting BIG TIME having moved from my quiet peaceful un-dramatic life in Vermont. Perhaps it was a good thing I hadn’t totally unpacked.
Yep, time to reevaluate my future in California.
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