Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day and Justin and I went downtown to Lou’s for lunch and to drink some green beer. Lou’s and the entire area were packed. Justin knew the bartender so we got good service with our drinks. Lou’s is right across the street from the Intrust Bank Arena where the NCAA Tournament was being played. Getting food was impossible. So we had beer for lunch. Not the first time that has happened. Of course Justin forgot to grab some cash when we left the house so dad had the tab. I did not care. I had not seen him in a month and I was just glad he was home for the weekend. We needed to talk. He leaves Monday.

Last night I went with my good friends Lindsey and Deann to the tournament. The games were great and the conversations were even better.

Lindsey, Deann and I

We watched KU hold on to beat Seton Hall and then saw the shot of the night to end the Michigan game. A last nanosecond three for the win.  Exciting! I would describe the shot, but I am sure you saw it.

I was a Michigan fan for the night. I had them picked in my bracket to defeat Houston. Not that it probably mattered since my bracket was officially busted. I had picked Virginia to win it all. Damn.

The Michigan player who took that shot must have been feeling the Luck of the Irish this St. Patties Day. Maybe he had been at Lou’s earlier drinking green beer listening to the bagpipes?

Deann and Lindsey

All I know is that I also could use a change of luck. As the saying goes if it weren’t for bad luck I would have no luck at all. I am even part Irish. The Sheridan clan came to America years ago from Ireland. I have a little Leprechaun in me. Please no short jokes. I have heard them all.

If I am ever able to capture a Leprechaun at the end of a rainbow I would not be interested in his pot of gold. Rather my wish or change in my Irish Luck would be for better health.

In December I was experiencing pain in my ribs. I went to my primary care doctor and x-rays were taken. He reviewed and showed me the x-ray. He pointed to a dark spot on the x-ray in the area where I was having the most pain. He said that what we were looking at was a tumor.

You could hear a pin drop in that room when those words came out of his mouth.

No one said a word, but everyone in that room was thinking the same thing and knew what that news might mean.

With many advanced prostate cancer (PC) patients a natural progression for the disease is that it metastasizes into the bone. The hips, spine, and ribs are three of the disease’s favorite places to travel.

Most of stage 4 PC patients will have their cancer eventually metastasize into their bones. Prognosis at that time is very bad. Most die within just a few years.

That is what was racing through my mind as well as everyone else’s.

The doctor told me that I needed to see my oncologist ASAP.

It was getting close to Christmas and my oncologist was on vacation. I finally got a call from his office while I was in Houston the day of the Tiger’s bowl game. The game sucked. Enough said about that.

They wanted me at the hospital that afternoon for a CT scan. Sorry folks no can do. We scheduled the scan for the day after we got back.

The CT scan confirmed the tumor. I was told that I would need surgery, and I was given the names of several surgeons. I made appointments with a few of them for interviews.

Now this is where it actually got fun. I interviewed the first doctor on January 9^th. That was a blast. I would gladly see him again and pay the $40 co-pay just to laugh. That was 30 minutes of my time well spent.

The first thing he told me was that he had gone over my history and he commented that I had been through a lot the last few years. WHAT…WHAT did he just say. He had been over my history. He knew what I had been through. I liked him.

My experience is that does not happen that often. Hell, it took a couple of visits with my PCP before he stopped asking why I was on the medications I was taking. Dah, doc I told you the last time that I have cancer. Read the damn chart. Finally I got pissed. He remembered me the next time.

The surgeon asked about my work. He asked what was my favorite cop show? I told him Barney Miller.

He told me that was funny because his favorite medical show was also a comedy, Scrubs.

He then started rattling off Scrubs dialogue that he had memorized.   “Everything comes down to your poo! From the top of your head to the bottom of your shoe, we can figure out what is wrong with you by looking at your poo!” He was a funny guy.

Then he made a comment of how true that statement was in medicine. I was wondering if he wanted a poo sample. He did not. I was relieved. HAHA

We talked about the surgery and as we talked he let me know that he was probably not the person for this particular type of surgery. He was a general surgeon and he said that I needed a thoracic surgeon. Whatever the hell that was. He did explain to me the issues and what would be done. It did not sound very pleasant. He gave me a name and made a call to set up an appointment so that I could see the doctor ASAP. It helps to know people.

So a couple of days later I saw the thoracic surgeon. I was wearing my usual attire which consisted of a MIZZOU hoodie and a Cardinals t-shirt.

He saw the t-shirt and we started talking baseball. He had sharpened his skills (you like that) for three or four years at Washington University in St. Louis. I liked the guy.

He described the surgery and explained that a few ribs would most likely be taken out as well as some surrounding tissue. He would reconstruct the area with some sort of fake ribs. These fake ribs would then keep what is in my chest cavity in place and not leak out of the hole where the ribs were.

I think he was going to use something like a little McCulloch chainsaw to cut them out then weld them in there or something like that. I do not exactly remember. Christy could not be at that appointment. That is her job to remember and understand this stuff. All I remember is that he was not sure if I would be able to play softball this summer. I no longer liked this man. He was all business. Not as funny as the poo doctor.

Then he got even more serious. He told me that he believed that the tumor in my rib was the spread of my cancer. He said that he wanted me to have a bone scan to see if I had any additional tumors. He said that he suspected that I did. He said that if the bone scan found any additional tumors that he would not operate. He said if more were found that surgery was not going to help me. He felt that more tumors would be coming.

I told him that I wanted to get things started as soon as possible, because the last week of February we were going on vacation to Hawaii. I wanted to be fully recovered.

He then told me that I would not be going to Hawaii if I had the surgery now. I told him that I would not have the surgery if it was going to stop me from going on vacation. I told him that everything would have to be put on hold until we returned. He asked that I have the bone scan soon, but understood my desire to wait on the surgery.

He then asked me if I was having any pain in my ribs on the left side of my body. I looked at him and paused for a moment and then told him no. That was a lie.

I saw the surgeon on January 11^th. I had recently started having some discomfort in the ribs on my left side. It was just a slight nuisance discomfort. Nothing like what I was having on my right side.   I had been keeping that a secret. No one knew. Not even Christy.

I told him no because I did not want Brutus to win. I did not want Brutus to keep us from going to Hawaii. Let me tell you about Brutus.

Last fall we had a “Name Kev’s Cancer” party at Erin’s in Olathe. I was growing tired of saying the word cancer or calling it my disease. It needed a name. Christy came up with “Brutus.” I loved it. I thought of the Popeye cartoon and his nemesis Brutus. Brutus was big and ugly just like I envisioned cancer. Popeye was always able to save Olive Oyl from Brutus by eating his spinach. Hey I like spinach, and I like girls. Perfect.

Christy did not know about the cartoon. She tells me that she did not grow up a mush brained TV addict like I did so she did not know who Popeye, Brutus, Olive Oyl or Wimpy were. Poor child. She came up with Brutus by looking up names for dogs.

So around the family whenever I start talking about Brutus they know what I am talking about. Now you do as well.

I was concerned that if I told the doctor about my left side that he, my oncologist, wife, kids, mother, friends, the dog would want me to cancel the trip and get this resolved. The problem with that in my mind was that I did not know where that might take us. I was concerned that this might be my only opportunity to take this trip. In a worst case scenario things might go bad. I was going to Hawaii. So for once I kept my mouth shut.

The scan was scheduled and he would contact me when he had the results. I got to thinking about that scan. I was convincing myself that what was causing pain and discomfort in my ribs was not cancer. It just had to be something else and therefore that scan was going to be a waste of time.

I later called the doctors nurse and canceled the scan. I told her that I felt that the scan was not going to find anything.

I then told her that if the doctor was right that I did not want to know before going on vacation. I did not want that hanging over our head. I wanted to have some time away and not think about troubles.

I told her not to call me that I would call her. Maybe then I could get away with not having the scan at all. Not a chance. Christy made me call the nurse a week before we left for Hawaii to get the scan scheduled. Damn.

So I call and the nurse wants to know when we get back. I tell her that we will be back February 28^th or maybe March 1^st. So she tells me to be at St. Francis Hospital radiology department at 8:00 A.M. on Friday March 2^nd. Hey I am still on vacation that Friday and I do not want to be at any hospital that early. She said 8:00 A.M. Damn.

When this process first started my oncologist wanted me to have chemo after the radiation treatments were over. We agreed that I would have chemo treatments in like September or October. I was later able to dodge chemo by going on a zytiga/lupron cocktail of drugs. Lovely stuff, NOT!! Anyway chemo was supposed to be for 18 weeks so when looking over the calendar it was supposed to end the first part of February.

I told Christy that we needed to take a trip. We talked about the one place we each most wanted to go in our lifetimes. Mine was Alaska. Hers was Hawaii. So Hawaii it was. Now we did discuss it for maybe a few minutes. I had to admit that Alaska in February might be a little cold. We will do Alaska another time.

We arrived in Hawaii on February 21^st. We had a great time. If you have not been there I would recommend that you go. Take a raincoat.

I ask that you not wait until you are sick or have an incurable disease. I have to admit that if it were not for Brutus we would not have taken the trip. It was a trip that we had talked about someday taking in the future. For me the future is now.

I was in Missouri last October and I went to dinner with one of my college roommates and his wife. Greg told me that he was a little envious of me in that I had just gotten back from a trip to the Pacific Northwest and we were making plans to go other places. I was trying to do what he would like to do.

Greg, just do it. People let’s get off butts and make living a priority.

Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions are searched for.

-Dr. Maya Angelou

This quote sums up my feelings about the trip. Unfortunately the problems still exist. When we returned from paradise they had to be confronted.

We had flown out of the KCI Airport and when we returned we were able to take Cammy off of Erin and Steven’s hands and take him home with us. The kids would then drive down and spend the weekend with us.

Got home March 1^st and who knew a two year old could wear you out so much. I loved it.

March 2^nd I went to the hospital and had the dye shot into my body at 8:00 A.M. They told me to return around 11:30 for the scan. I had to wait for the dye to be taken into my bones before the scan. I went home and got Cammy and took him to the office. He is a babe magnet. Better than a puppy. They loved him there. We were wearing our matching Hawaiian shirts.

Took him home and went back to the hospital. There they put me into the machine and the fun began.

When finished I was taken out of the tube and I walked over to where the tech was looking at the pictures.

In the images I could see a large black mass on the right side of my body in my ribs. The unfortunate thing was that I could also see a smaller black mass in the ribs on my left side.

Another tumor! Damn!

I guess I would not have to tell anyone about the discomfort on my left side. It was easy to see in the picture.

The surgeon was right and I was wrong. Imagine that. I was still glad that I did not have the scan done before the trip. I now had to go see my oncologist.

Dr. O first started off my visit talking about my most recent lab results. The numbers were looking good and I was due for another Lupron shot the beginning of April. He told me that a person in my position should be on continuous hormone treatments. I should stay on Lupron until the cancer had developed an immunity to the drug.

This was going to be a lovely meeting.

I told him that I would not do that. That I was going off Lupron and that there was no way I would take that drug continuously. He said that for me the standard of care was to stay on continuous Lupron. The standard care for whom? Obviously not me. I do not like Lupron Sam I am. I told Dr. O that when the numbers start to go up and reach a certain level we can once again discuss Lupron, but I was done for now. He asked if I would be willing to stay on the drug for at least six more months. I said nope. I should have told him that I was tired of buying Adele CD’s every time I went to Target or Walmart. Damn hormone therapy. Next item on our agenda please.

We then moved onto the pleasant topic of the possible tumors. He started talking about surgery, radiation, and more drugs. I was thinking stop, stop, and stop! This could not be happening, but it was.

I should not have tumors in my bones now. Yes at some point that most likely will happen, but not now. The cancer should not spread while my numbers were going down on Lupron. At least that is the theory. My numbers were going down indicating that the cancer was slowing down. It should not be spreading. This could not be happening and it must be something else. Maybe they are benign tumors. Maybe it is a totally different cancer. I do not know but if in fact I do have PC tumors in my bones that would be very bad news.

You see it is suppose to take several years for that to happen. Then when it does you have to face the reality that you might only have a short time left.

Brutus had escaped my gland and had infected my lymph nodes and gotten into my lymphatic system and maybe into my bloodstream. Brutus was circulating my body looking for a home. It loves the red blood cells inside bones and will often become a homesteader there. But this was not supposed to happen now. My scans from 15 months ago showed none of this. If this is true then I have a very, very aggressive cancer. I cannot think that this is true. I do not want to think this is actually happening.

Dr. O was also stumped. He agreed that this should not be happening while on treatments, but that in some cases it does. Damn.

I asked him if he thought that what was showing up on the scans was a spread of my cancer. He said that he did not know. Damn.

He said that we needed to find out and the only way to do that was to have it surgically removed and biopsied. He wanted me to have surgery. He said that they would be unable to do a needle biopsy and surgery was my only option. Damn. Damn.

No Dr. O there is another option, and that is to say “fuck it” and take my ball and go home.

You see I have not had the best of luck when it has come to medical advice. Yes I have confidence in the people I have chosen, but they are people. They make mistakes.

Let me tell you about my first doctor and provide you with a little Kevology.

When this process first started Dr. Richard Little (not his real name) told me that I was stage one and what I had was very curable. Well DICK!! was wrong. I so wanted him to be right. I fired DICK!!

I was told after surgery that they had gotten all the cancer. That doctor was wrong. Again I so wanted him to be right.

Today I want so badly for my doctors to be wrong.

I no longer consider myself a patient of any of my doctors. Yes I am a cancer patient, but I am not their patient. I am their employer. I no longer blindly take their recommendations. They tell me what they think and I make a decision on what will happen. What I feel is right for me.

The problem I run into is that my medical team cannot agree on what should be done. I get different advice from each doctor. My oncologist and urologist seldom agree on my treatments. I listen to each and then make a decision. Sometimes I split the baby down the middle by taking pieces of advice from each. Neither is happy.

I did follow DICK blindly at the start of this process. I thought that the doctors knew best and had all the answers. I admit that I also liked what I was hearing, and that was I did not need surgery. Under DICKS guidance I waited over a year to have surgery. That was a big mistake that I hope does not cost me my life. Always get a second or third opinion. When something does not feel right get more answers. Maybe another day I will go into more detail about that experience with DICK!! and his misdiagnosis.

Dr. O did not want to take a guess or give a probability about what was in my ribs. He just said that we needed to find out and if it was the spread of my cancer then we had some treatment options.

When he said “I don’t know” I thought about the ball team I was putting together. The conversation should have gone like this:

Dr. O: I don’t know.

Me: You know my third basemen?

Dr. O: Who?

Me: No doc, Who is our first basemen.

Dr: Who is on first.

Me: That is what I am telling you doc.

Dr: What?

Me: No doc, What is our second basemen.

Dr: I don’t care.

Me: Doc! Pay attention! I Don’t Care he plays short.

I could go on but I won’t. Sometimes I feel stuck in a vaudeville act. Or wish that I was.

One thing I do know about baseball is that many hitters guess at what pitch they think the pitcher will throw. Doctors are like guess hitters and Brutus is on the mound.

Of course the hitter and doctor are making educated guesses, but still guessing.

The early stages which would be like Class A or AA baseball in which Brutus might not have that many pitches he can command. You can sit on the fastball in fastball counts. Doctors can handle Brutus.

When he advances to AAA (stage 3) or the show (stage 4) he becomes much more difficult to hit. He has many more pitches and gets you off balance. Doctors have a much more difficult time in identifying his pitches.

So right now I am up to bat and Brutus has gotten a couple of quick strikes on me. I am trying to get into his head and I yell out that he pitches like a girl. He is not happy. I am guessing that he will throw something off speed to the outside of the plate.

I dig in waiting on the curve. I am going to Altuve that pitch deep into the seats. Altuve is one of my favorite non Cardinal players. I gotta root for the short guy.

I step out and just like the Babe and Hamilton ‘Ham’ Porter I point to center field letting Brutus know where I am planning on launching his pitch.

I dig in and move closer to the plate. The windup, the pitch, and I am now leaning out over the plate. Brutus is pissed and so he did not throw me his curve. He threw a high and tight fastball. I cannot get out of the way in time and the pitch hits me in the ribs. Hurts a little, but I do not show Brutus that it hurts. I take my base letting Brutus know that I will later get another at bat.

My medical team will now get their chance to bat. I hope they guess right this time and can knock me around for the score.

Dr. O sends me back to the thoracic surgeon. I have learned that this type of surgeon specializes in the organs within your chest. This doctor’s primary specialty is lung cancer.

Dr. TS tells me that he has talked with Dr. O and that Dr. O wants to be very aggressive in finding out what exactly is in my ribs. He will operate even though another tumor has been found.

The doctor will first check with a radiologist to see if there is any chance that they might be able to get a needle into the bone for a biopsy sample. If they can try then we will do that to avoid the surgery. If the needle biopsy is positive then he will not operate. If negative he has to assume that they missed the target and surgery it is.

I can tell that he thinks my cancer has spread and he would rather not cut me open. He will do it because Dr. O has to be 100% certain what it is.

He is going on vacation so the surgery will be scheduled for the first week of April. I guess since I made them wait six weeks they can make me wait two more. I really am in no hurry. Hopefully the needle biopsy can be done next week.

That gives me a few weeks to think this over. I am not sure I want surgery. What if it is something else and the surgery was not needed at all?

If it is cancer will I gain a benefit from treatments now or would later make that much difference? What will my prognosis be with and without surgery? These are the questions I will soon be asking Dr. O. I have about ten days to give a final answer on the surgery.

You see I do not want to be like the pig in the farmer’s joke. You know the joke right? Okay here it is.

A man notices a three legged pig running around the farm so he asks the farmer what was up with that pig. The farmer explains that was a very special pig almost like a member of the family. He had warned them when their house was on fire and they all got out alive. He said a pig like that you do not eat all at once.

I feel like that pig. This would be my third surgery in twenty months. When will they stop? What might they want to cut out next? I do not know. I do not think they know either.

I am confident that this is nothing. The tumor or lesion or whatever they want to call it will turn out to be nothing. I am concerned that to prove that I am okay they have to cut me open, another mutilation.

I hope at some point my Irish luck will change and we will see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I just hope that it is not the light from the proverbial train.

I will post, or I should say Erin will post when we have the answers. I wanted to wait until everything was done, but I have been getting to many questions about how I am doing.

Hope this helps.   It has helped me.

Kevin

A child can cry for many reasons.

But, when a child cries because they have been picked up and thrown around and now that child has broken bones; I get involved.

When a child cries from being shaken so violently that they are vomiting due to a brain hemorrhage; I get involved.

When a child cries from the trauma of being sexually abused; I get involved.

You see Camden I have been a law enforcement officer for many years. I started “The Job” in 1986. It seemed the thing to do at the time. Many days I question that decision. The first five years on “The Job” I could not believe I was getting paid to do this. After about five years my attitude changed to that of I am definitely not getting paid enough for this abuse. People call you names, punch and kick you, try to run over you with their cars, pull knives and guns, and those were my good days. People have tried to hurt me. Some close calls. I am still here.

I have had to make far too many life changing decisions over the years. I have had to take a life. Camden, I did not take this job to hurt people. But I did not take it to get hurt either.

I have been a detective since around 1996 I think. I really do not keep track of such things. Nor do I keep track of awards and medals. They are in my sock drawer. That is where they will stay.

Camden as a detective I have investigated about every type of crime. I have worked in the property crimes section. I have bought drugs as an undercover investigator. I will not forget the day that I was wearing a wire and I was being driven around by a drug dealer who did not know my true occupation. He was introducing me to people who I then bought drugs from.

Later that evening I learned that for several hours my back-up did not know where I was. The wire had malfunctioned and if I needed any assistance during those hours well I was on my own. The Calvary would not be coming. The wire later started working and they found me. They probably should not have told me what happened. I did not do that job very long.

For several years I worked night investigations where we mostly dealt with robberies, rapes, assaults, and homicides. Crimes that had just occurred and you went home when the work was done. Sometimes that would be late the next morning after working all night. Many days I had lunch with the day guys and would then go home and get a few hours of sleep before starting all over. From there I moved to robbery where I stayed for several years.

Now I work in what is called The Exploited and Missing Child Unit (EMCU). I have been with the unit almost seven years. There we investigate cases involving the physical and sexual abuse of children. We only work child victim cases. Unfortunately we are very busy.

At EMCU we work with social workers from the Department of Families and Children. Our office is located inside the Child Advocacy Center. We are in a remodeled very large old grade school. I have both a white board and chalk board in my office.

The CAC has advocates who work with the family and with the child along with the social worker to provide services. We have six full-time therapists that work with our victims and their families. We are almost a one stop shop. Still trying to get medical into the building so that the medical exams can be done here and the evidence can be collected so that the families do not have to go to one of the hospitals. The offices and exam rooms are here just waiting on the medical team to move into the facility.

Camden, the work we do is difficult. The cases can be hard to prove and they are definitely hard on a person emotionally. People comment all the time that they do not know how I am able to do this type of work.

Detectives working in other units tell me that they could not do this type of investigation. They do not feel that they could keep their cool when dealing with the suspects we deal with. The cases can and will get to you over time.

Let me tell you Camden how I am able to do this work when others are not.

It is about the kids. The children we talk with share their deepest and darkest secrets about their abuse. They share this with you in the hope that you can help them. You definitively are not going to be able to help if you let your emotions take control over judgment. In order to help you have to be focused on what you need to do in order to build your best case. If I were to reach across the table and grab the suspect by the throat I might feel better for a moment, but I would not be helping that child.

You learn how to control your emotions. You can yell and scream and cry another time. And I do. You cannot look at these kids and not feel their pain. Their pain becomes your pain. At some point you become numb to the pain. You have to in order to continue. Barriers come up. Emotions are suppressed.

Sometimes we are successful in prosecuting these crimes. Other times we are not. That bothers me.

Over the years at EMCU I have interviewed over a thousand kids. I have probably worked around a thousand cases.

It is my job to bring the facts out of the darkness and into the light in order to help the child. Healing starts with the disclosure interview.

Camden let me tell you about two extremely strong young women I have met. I will not use their real names. This might help you better understand what I do.

I first want to talk about Stephanie. Stephanie was eight years old when I met her. It was a summer weekend and I was called at home on a Saturday to go to the office and assist patrol officers with a sex abuse case.

As often happens on the weekend the patrol officer arrived at the office with the victim before I did. Stephanie was waiting for me in a play room. An officer had also given her a couple of butterfly stickers and she brought them with her when we went into the victim interview room.

Stephanie told me about what had happened to her. Things she had never shared with anyone. Things she never wanted to talk about. Things people do not want to hear. Things that make people question how anyone can do this job.

Normally at the end of a child interview I will ask them if they have any questions for me, and that is what I asked Stephanie. Most kids say no or they have one or two questions and out the door they go. Not Stephanie. She wanted to know many things about me.

I had asked Stephanie questions about her family and who she lived with. She asked me many of the same questions. She had been paying attention.

She wanted to know all about my kids. We talked about Erin, Justin, and Amy. Stephanie learned that Amy was home for the summer from college. She learned that Erin and Justin thought they were adults and were out on their own. Since Amy was at home we talked about her the most. It was the longest conversation I have ever had at the end of an interview with a child. Was she really just eight years old?

I answered all of her questions and I was thinking how this interview was being audio and video recorded and might possibly be played in court. Oh well I guess they could redact the end of the interview.

Before leaving she had one last question. No child had ever asked me this question before nor has a child asked me since. She wanted to know if I, like her, had ever been a victim of sexual abuse. I answered that question as well.

As we were leaving the room she stopped to give me a hug. She had the two butterfly stickers in her hand. She handed me one of her stickers. She told me that she wanted Amy to have her sticker. I believe that Amy still has the notebook where she placed the sticker.

I will never forget Stephanie.

I met Mary when she was sixteen years old. Her nightmare started when she was seven. This is her story.

One day in July of 2012 Mary’s mother was looking through some of her husband’s belongings and found nude photos of Mary. When her mother questioned her about the photos Mary told her mother that her stepdad had been sexually abusing her. The police were called and Mary was taken to the EMCU office to see me.

Anytime a close family member is a suspect in a case a social worker is assigned to assist in the investigation. My friend Sarah from the Department for Children and Families was assigned to the case with me. We interviewed Mary that day and Mary was interviewed several more times over the coming months.

When we sat down with Mary, Sarah told her that she was now safe. The tears flowed. The conversation began. Mary took back her life that day.

We learned that the sexual abuse started when Mary was seven years old. It did not stop until the day we met.

Let me try to explain how long term sexual abuse occurs and why the victims feel they have no way out.

At seven Mary did not realize what her stepdad was doing was wrong. She thought every girl her age went through this with their dad or stepdad. When in middle school she realized that this was wrong.

As she got older the shame and fear she felt was used against her by stepdad.

He convinces her that it is her fault and if she says anything that the family will be broken up and that her mother will hate her.

He will tell her that if she says anything that her siblings will not have a father because he will go to prison and they will blame her.

She is told that if it became public that people would think of her differently. She is silenced, and the abuse continues. Her only way to stop it she thought was turning 18 and moving out.

What I heard from Mary during our interviews I have heard several other times from other Mary’s I have met over the years.

The suspect returned home while officers were there and he was given a ride in a police car to my office to see me. I sat down with him for a few minutes and talked. We did not get very far into our conversation when he decided that he no longer wanted to talk with me. Damn, I hate when that happens.

You see I want very much for the suspect to talk to me about the allegations. I do these interviews all the time. They do not. Most have not thought out how they are going to explain away the allegations. So they lie.

If I need to become their best friend while in the interview room then I will do that. If I can get them talking then I am winning.

The more they talk the more they lie and the bigger the hole they dig. Eventually I will point out the lies and inconsistencies in their story. Sometimes they confess. Even without a confession the lies are gold.

Not being able to talk to Mary’s stepdad made the case a little more challenging.

Search warrants were executed on the suspect’s vehicles, computers and other electronic devices. A considerable amount of evidence was found.

We conducted dozens of interviews with family and friends. We were able to find another victim and he was later charged with the sexual abuse of that family member as well.

It took about fifteen months for Mary’s case to go to trial. Mary testified at the trial. She did a great job. Many detectives, social workers, advocates, and therapist were there to support her.

As the case detective I also spent a considerable amount of time on the stand during trial. I am always relieved when the case finally goes to the jury for deliberation. I can breathe a little easier.

Leading up to trial I ask myself if I have done everything I possible could on a case. I lay awake at night beating myself up about an interview and going over things I should have asked or thinking about things that need to be done. I wonder if I have dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s. I ask myself what is it that I need to do to make this case better. I lived and worked on Mary’s case on and off for those fifteen months.

Unlike TV detectives who quickly solve their cases and you only see them working one case at a time real life investigators are working multiple cases. We come into work each day and find new cases, new victims. We then play case triage and try to prioritize the best we can.

I left the court house when Mary’s case went to the jury. I normally am not present when the jury comes back with a verdict. I am on to other cases by then. This case was different. I was called when the jury announced they had a verdict. I was able to make it back before the verdict was read.

He had been charged with multiple crimes that occurred over the nine year period that Mary was abused. He was found guilty on all counts. He would be spending the rest of his life in prison. He will never get out. A few months later he was sentenced to 80 years in prison. He has to serve 51 years before he is even eligible for parole.

When the verdict was announced I immediately walked out of the courtroom and headed for the elevators.

Mary followed me out of the court room. She started walking fast toward me. I could see the tears in her eyes. We hugged.

The prosecution team then came out of the court room followed by Mary’s family and friends. I told her that I would talk to her later and she turned to meet the others.

The elevator had not yet arrived so I started to head toward the stairs. As I was walking away someone grabbed my arm. I turned around and saw my friend Kelly.   He was at the court house on a different case.

He had seen Mary approach me at the elevator. He said to me, “That is why we do what we do. That is what this is all about.” I nodded and headed down the stairs.

Mary is a very strong young lady and I am so proud of the person she has become. The CAC puts on a Hero’s Gala each year and Mary has been one of their honorees.

Mary has become my friend. I see her a few times each year. She will come by the EMCU office to visit with everyone. Sarah and I recently went to her house to see her new baby boy and to take gifts for the baby and her two year old son. And of course we took diapers. I got to hold the baby.

Tomorrow is Mary’s birthday. We are having lunch.

I am a better detective for having known Mary. Hell, I am a better person.

Camden I hope this gives you a better idea of what I do, and who I am.

I am very proud of the people I work with. I am proud of the work we do. Sometimes we do make a difference.

I plan on continuing doing this job for as long as they will let me. The past two years have been rough and at times I feel that I am letting the team down.

I have missed so many days the last two years. I am not yet able to carry the work load I once did. I get fatigued and many days I am at work even though I am not feeling well. My work family sees me every day and they know what I am dealing with. They have done their best to try to help.

We are on call out status at all times. I have been called into work many times to start an investigation.  The last two years that has not happened as often. I wonder if it because I am the oldest person in the unit? Maybe they feel that old people should not be woken up at 2:00 A.M. Or they do not call because of my illness and they figure I need the rest to help my body heal. Maybe it is a combination. I continue to sign up for the call outs and let them know I am available.

Each night that I am on the call out list I make sure that I have clothing set out in another room so that I will not wake Christy if I have to leave. I have my gear ready including my Blues Clues notebook.

I have the phone charging on the nightstand by the bed. I check to make sure the ringer is turned up and not muted. I check the phone several times. You gotta watch out for those phone fairies. Maybe that is my OCD or maybe just my ACDC. Not sure which.

The nights that I am on call I fully expect the phone to ring, because… I know… that somewhere… out there… each night…A Child Cries.

Det. Kevin Brown
Exploited and Missing Child Unit