My Mom Becomes A Murder SuspectPosted: August 28, 2013
I recently read a reference to dropping a found drivers license in the mail to reunite it with its owner. If you wonder if this works, I can confirm that it does by recounting my mother’s brief stint as a murder suspect.
You might remember that I am not convinced my mom didn’t kill Reverend Sun Myung Moon. She had the motive, though perhaps not the opportunity. This is a different event. I am certain that she did not kill this guy.
Pretty certain. Yup.
Let’s go back in time. Way back. I was in second grade. My brother was in kindergarten. Depending on your age you might call that time period the Pleistocene Era or the early years of the Nixon administration. Our family had just moved from Hoboken, New Jersey to Charleston, West Virginia for my father’s first assignment in his new job.
One day, Mom decided to walk downtown and meet Dad for lunch. She walked down the hill, then crossed a bridge over the Kanawha River. During that crossing, Mom became a “person of interest”.
Traffic breezed by to her right. To her left, the safety rail and a drop to swift water. Ahead of her, a wallet was on the sidewalk. She picked it up and found a driver’s license in one of the wallet’s slots. Mom knew just what to do, and she was on the way to the perfect place to do it – the post office where my father worked. She dropped the billfold in the mail before meeting Dad for lunch.
They spoke briefly of the wallet. Neither thought much about it. My parents finished lunch. Dad returned to his office; Mom crossed the bridge and was home when I got back from school. Things were pretty normal in our family.
Another local family wasn’t having a normal time. One of their clan was missing. A few days later, they got the news that his body had washed up on the river bank, downstream from Charleston. Soon after that, there was a brief period of abnormal at my house.
Because She Crossed The River, She Almost Went Up The River
Mom called Dad’s office a couple of days after their lunch. “The police are looking for me. They want to talk to me” she said.
The morning news reported the name of the man found on the riverbank. It was the name in the wallet my mother found. The reporter went on to say that two days after they found that poor soul there along the river, his wallet inexplicably turned up in his mailbox. The police were looking for the person responsible for it being there.
Mom felt that it appeared that she had something to do with doing that gentleman in. She’d done the right thing, but this looked like one of those “no good deed goes unpunished” situations.
Dad drove back across the bridge. Mom was waiting in the front yard. He gave her a ride downtown and turned her over to “the man”.
Well, not exactly turned her over. They rode together to the police department. Mom told the police her story several times with Dad by her side. No bare light bulb in an interrogation room. No hand cuffs. No tense conversation with a confrontational detective. They were out of the police station in short order. Speaking of short orders, they had time to hit a diner for lunch before I got home from school.
Dad went back to work. The motherly desperado and I picked my brother up from kindergarten. My brother and I never knew about the day she had until years later, when the tale went from “this will be funny some day” to “funny today”.
Happy Birthday, tomorrow, to my favorite suspect!