This is my maiden voyage into uncertain waters…a sea of blogs. The ship is readied for sail and all tickets punched. It’s time to weigh anchor and head to stories unknown.
For my initial blog, some seaworthy friends tendered sage advice as to which direction the trade winds should send me. These fine bards have traveled often with pen in hand.
Should I start with a story about my latest book Cramped Quarters Mary’s Trunk and show all who dare to sail with a Victorian ghost named Mary who we purchased inside her trunk some years ago for a meager fee? No, not that yarn just yet, but in the future, she’ll show here.
You can locate our ghost Mary and the genesis of her haunting by clicking this link to Amazon. More books are coming soon in her story.
Maybe, it would be prudent to begin a running tale of how haunted items can be acquired while frequenting tag sales, collectibles and antique shops and shows? My wife and I have an ongoing love and affair with finding those rare items which pique our interest. We’ve done so for decades. This would also be a fine trip to embark upon, but I think not…yet.
Where to begin? This is always the searing question when we start the process of putting words to paper.
Ah, the simple answer rings true, as I type.
Begin at the beginning.
Let me tell you a story.
My Frozen Heart
The Becky Davis Story
It was October 10, 2008 at 12:15 in the afternoon when the local police dispatcher answered the 9-1-1 call, “911, Dispatcher 41, what’s your emergency, please?”
“Oh my God, oh, God no! Help! Quick, send somebody quick, our son, hurry! Hurry! Our only son he’s dying.
“Oh my God, he’s dead. Billy’s so cold. My God, please!” A lady’s tear-filled voice shouted hysterically to the police dispatcher.
“Ma’am, you have to calm down, please. Tell me what has happened. Help is on the way. Fire rescue and a police unit are en route. They’ll be there very soon. Tell me what happened to your son. But, you must calm down and help me to help your son. Do you understand, ma’am?” The calming, authoritative voice of the dispatcher instructed the caller.
“God, please, please, Lord, tell them to hurry, please, please. Our son is only a little boy. He’s only six. He turned six last week. I found him lifeless in the garage. I’ve tried everything. He’s not responding. I’m alone here and my son’s dead.
“Help us, God.
“There’s a spilled bottle of antifreeze next to his body. He must have drank the antifreeze. Billy drank the antifreeze. It’s all over his face and little hands.
“Oh my God! He’s dead, God. How am I going to tell his Dad…how, Lord, how? It’s all my fault. I left him alone playing in the garage for too long. It’s all my fault. I’ve killed our son.
“I’ve tried everything. It’s so sweet. Lord, I tried. Forgive me, God. Please forgive me Billy, Billy, Billy.
“My God, how can I tell his father?” Billy’s devastated mother held him in one arm as she advised this to the police dispatcher.
We know this is what actually occurred from the police department tapes of the 9-1-1 call that day as well as the police investigative reports, autopsy exam and report, and from the eventual court proceedings.
Billy, their only son had died a horrible death that October day. He was ultimately pronounced dead on arrival at a hospital. According to all reports, police and fire rescue units arrived within two minutes of receiving the dispatch.
Billy was laid to rest a few days later. For a brief period, Billy’s mother refused to allow the undertaker to lower his casket into the cold Georgia red clay. She draped her frail shaking body over her son’s small white casket and begged to be lowered with him. Billy’s father eventually assisted her from the closed casket.
We also know police investigators at the scene found the lifeless body of Toto the family’s pet poodle. Their pet had also ingested the sweet poison. His contorted body was discovered in a far corner of the garage where he had crawled behind a storage box and died. He had suffered in the same horrific fashion as Billy. Toto’s remains were taken away by Animal Control.
Billy’s body was transported by ambulance with sirens screaming and lights flashing to the nearest hospital. The emergency room trauma doctors and nurses tried as best they could to bring Billy back. Of course, it was too late. His mother knew it was too late when she had made the call.
When ingested, antifreeze can be a killer.
Nationwide this scene or many like it have played out. On average, each year across the United States of America, 6,000 children die miserably painful deaths from ingesting antifreeze. In Georgia alone, last year 235 children were poisoned like this. Some of these innocent children died a lingering death. Thankfully, a large number of victims survived the sweet but deadly liquid. Adults were also poisoned. Some have died.
At least, it would seem Billy went faster. He must have ingested more of the product. It’s no comfort to know why some die more quickly. I’d assume many don’t.
Neither Billy’s mom nor his Dad were to blame, but no one will succeed in convincing them of this.
We realize who is at fault here.
I can’t begin to imagine how many children and adults die worldwide from this poison!
Every year countless hundreds of thousands of pets and wild animals die in this same fashion across the globe.
We know about the children and adults who succumb to this tasty poison, simply because we gather statistics on poisonings, unexplained and unusual deaths. Autopsies will generally expose the agent behind the human tragedies. Those who have lived through it will tell you how sweet and pleasing the liquid tastes. It’s deceptively deadly when ingested by humans and animals. In this respect, antifreeze is actually nefarious.
How could this go on for so long in this country and around the world? How? Why? Can you or anyone explain this to me or to Billy’s Mom and Dad? Will they, the men and women within the corporations that manufacture and sell this product by the millions of gallons yearly, explain this to us?
Something had to be and must still be done about this, as the deaths continue to mount.
A young determined lady from Georgia named Becky Davis who loves pets did precisely that within the State of Georgia after her dog Chief became a victim of this antifreeze travesty. Becky Davis was and is a victim, too.
This is Becky Davis’ story.