When I Am Through With You - The VLA

At the Aurora Police Station Jail

At the front counter I asked the police officer if I could pick up Jeff's belongings.  I gave my name, relation to the deceased, etc.  The officer told me to wait a moment.  Jerry Williams, the Police Chief in 1988 came to the counter and said, "If you want your husband's things, then you're going to have to get a lawyer." 
     "Why do I need a lawyer?  All I want are his clothes and wallet." 
     "I'm sorry, but we can't release them to you."  I was stunned and needed to understand why Jeff's belongings were being retained by the police.  I spoke up and said, "I am here to see the cell my husband died in, also."  Now, the Police Chief appeared stunned.  He left and many minutes later Dean Axtell, the Public Relations Representative appeared.

We went into the circle of holding cells, where I had been told Jeff had been and where he had died.  Then, through heavy metal doors, stairs, and more metal doors. We arrived at a cell that was mid-way among others in a long line.  Axtell opened the cell door.

Jeff's blue-black boot prints were all over the wall.  There was a short noose hanging from the iron mesh at the top of the cell door.  I wondered how, logistically, it was feasible that Jeff's butt could have been planted on the cell floor. The noose was not near long enough.  Yet,the story Axtell and Williams told me on the evening of Jeff's death was a different one.  My friends, Bill and Thomas witnessed the cell along with me.  I had them look closely at the cell walls, "Look at these boot scuffs.  These are from Jeff's boots.  I've been wiping those scuff marks up from my kitchen floor everyday."  I turned to Axtell, "I need a camera.  You need to get me a camera.  Can you go get one?"
     "I don't think we have one. No."
     "This is a police station.  Surely one of your detectives or someone has a camera."
     "No.  Not that I know of."  Why do you want one?"
     "Because you said my husband was very calm.  You said he was given a chair.  You said he was polite and friendly.  These are his boot marks and when my husband is angry he kicks everything.  These scuff marks tell me he kicked the walls!  Look! He wasn't calm.  What really happened?" Axtell looked dumbfounded. 
     "You know, we never thought of that." 
    

On the Day of Jeff's Funeral

A stark glint of mean sun reflected off the overcast sky.  Surreal.  The situation did not exist.  Someone misdiagnosed Jeff's death.  My little boys were at home with my mother.  I didn't know the protocol for burying a husband.  Well, in the case of Jeff's family, it was indeterminable who would remain composed and who'd make a scene.  Jeff's biological mother was known for histrionics and stupid choices.  I wasn't about to traumatize my sons any further.  I sang the Chariots of Fire song without accompaniment.  It was Jeff's favorite.  I held my composure.  The whole time I was speaking over the casket at the plot, I kept wondering if I was at the head or foot of the casket.  I kept thinking it would be embarrassing to be talking at his feet. 

I knew that the details the Chief of Police and his wing man Dean Axtell were terribly conflicting.  I decided to go to the police department and get Jeff's belongings and see the cell where Jeff died.  Bill and Thomas came with me as witnesses.

Epilogue of Raising Jeff

I waited for weeks thinking Jeff might appear at our home , knock and I'd be ecstatic.  I would imagine how God would bring Jeff back to life.  Would he open up the earth and bring him out of his casket -- they don't lock do they? Would God recreate a new body and then plant Jeff in our home one night?  I wondered if there was anything I was not doing to assist. 

Please bring Jeff back to life I prayed, then in an after thought, I prayed, please don't scare me to death if you do. 

A month went by. No Jeff.  I began rationalizing that maybe God didn't think Jeff deserved to come back, maybe the only reason He'd raise someone would be to prove a sacred point.  I figured maybe I wasn't a good enough Christian to -- don't be stupid, Grace is Grace -- I reprimanded myself.  There is a better reason for Jeff not coming back. 

I decided to approach my pastor, Dennis Leonard.  I told him about Easter and trying to raise Jeff. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!" was Leonard's response.  I was shocked.  I expected various responses but not the one he gave.  "But you told us to do what is in Matthew 10:8 Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you received, freely give".  Leonard said something to the effect that I was misguided but I heard him many times in church say this very verse and demand that we (congregation) literally follow his directive.  He's a fraud.  "How can you tell us to  heal the sick, and omit raise the dead It's all part of the same verse.  If one is possible then the other should likewise be?  I won't belabor the rest of what was said.  Needless to say, I left The Church According to Leonard.  A new journey was in the offing.

After the Raising Effort

Raising Jeff was not so much for him as for me.  Jeff was finally out of misery that he could not reconcile in this life.  I do not believe today that he hung himself in the Aurora PD's jail/holding cell.  I do believe Jeff wanted out of the emotional and mental hell he was prisoner of.  When I tried to raise Jeff from the dead, I wasn't sure what my actual motive was.  Looking back, one of the hardest things to admit is I was not ready to grow.  I was not ready to move out of the domestic violence cycle.  Not ready to accept responsibility for marrying a man I had no business marrying.  The dreaded time had come for me to face life on life's terms.  What was I going to do about the mess I had played into?  The song that keeps going through my head is the one by The VLA on the television show Damage, "When I'm through with you, there won't be anything left . . ." 

The initial shock when your lover commits suicide is shock.  Shock. Stark. Naked. Like broken, jagged glass imbedded in my heart. 

The Rest of This Story . . .

At the grave site my friends and I stood looking at the patch of grass. What do you do when raising the dead? How does that look and sound? I hashed this over with Marvin and Bonnie and we decided to do the calling of Lazurus, like Jesus did. I called out, "Jeff come out of the ground!" Immediately, I thought, If he opens up the grave and comes out, I'm going to have a heart attack. My friends and I assessed the lack of response from Jeff. Maybe we had to show more committment to raising Jeff so I called out again, "Jeff, in the name of Jesus, come back to life!" After several more efforts of the same, my friends and I decided we needed to follow God's instructions -- the part in the Bible about praising God before asking Him for favors -- basically that's it. So, I proposed we dance and praise God. There we were, Easter Sunday, my two little boys climbing all over the gravestones and burial plots, me, Marvin, and Bonnie dancing on Jeff's grave, praising the Lord . . . outloud!

And, yes, it occurred to me how bizarre the scene appeared but, I could not help myself. It was the perfect time, if ever, to respond in drastic measures. Jeff was dead. I couldn't face it. And, how in Heaven's name would I ever cope with all of this?

One Easter Sunday in 1988

It was a stark and cool day, and taking my boys was probably stupid but with two friends who were from the church I attended, we went to Jeff's burial site.  The pastor had been riding the congregation about doing things in the Bible, like, heal the sick, make the blind to see. He said, "Step out in faith" Well, the pastor never said anything about raising the dead even though it was right there in the Bible next to the other directions. 


So, I accepted the pastor's challenge -- more like a directive - and went to the cemetary to raise Jeff from the dead. . .