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Authors: Allison DuBois
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them. He gave the name of one of his friends who knows more about the incident than heâs saying, but for legal reasons I will not include it here. He was very fond of his âblack truckâ, and teasing his sister. There were many details shared in his reading, but what it comes down to is that he was able to orchestrate a reading with me for his parents. He needed to reach them badly and Michael moved heaven and earth to do so. Itâs nice to know that our children need to stay connected to us every bit as strongly as we need to hold on to them. We are indivisible by death . . . they are our children and nothing can truly take them from us, ever.
SHEILAâS STORY
Our 23-year-old son Michael was a vibrant loving young man with many attainable goals. He passed away from what we believe to be foul play. The police determined it âappearedâ to be suicide. We should point out that no detective was called to the scene. Instead, we have an FBI forensic specialist and her team who have begun to assist us in putting together all the facts, in the hope the district attorney will open the case. We never expected that weâd have to conduct an investigation on our own. To this date the district attorney has turned down two separate requests to open a case. So we will wait for the final autopsy report that we commissioned, and attempt it again. Getting a suicide ruling overturned is like pushing a boulder up a hill with your nose!
On 24 May 2009, Michael had lunch with his sister Jordan and me at our favourite deli in Northwest Portland. I had already had a quick bite to eat earlier but for some reason I felt the impulse to call Michael to see if heâd like to have lunch. Maybe I was just being a mum, knowing a college student wouldnât pass up a free meal, while the mother in me also wouldnât pass up the chance to spend time with my baby.
It was a very relaxing lunch. We planned our upcoming family day, which we do every Sunday. He let me know he would be at his brother Spencerâs high school graduation, but would miss the graduation party due to work. At one point his sister went inside the deli and Michael wanted to quickly discuss our plans for her surprise trip to Disneyland to celebrate her sixteenth birthday in December. One of our conversations was about Michaelâs thick black hair that was longer than I liked, and as I gave him my opinion on the issue he reassured me that once he finished his lead role in the upcoming independent film he was in, he would let me pay for him to get it cleaned up. I share all this because these are not the actions of someone who is contemplating suicide. I donât think Iâm alone in that observation. Following our lunch, I dropped Michael off at his apartment, and told him I loved him, to have a good night at work and that Iâd see him in a few days.
The next day I woke up with a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart that not only lasted all day but was also unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was Lymanâs and my wedding anniversary and the first time that my husband and I werenât together to share the day. Lyman was attending his nephewâs wedding in Oklahoma. I spent the day getting my yard ready for the big upcoming graduation party so that I could at least spend the weekend with my husband and kids. I was feeling pretty good about being ahead of schedule. But the ache and lump in my throat continued. Throughout the day I kept telling myself, âStop being a baby, you donât even celebrate your anniversary.â
As the week went on, neither Lyman nor I had heard from Michael. We are a very close family, and a phone call or text two or three times a day is the norm. But we had heard nothing at all from Michael, and he hadnât returned any of our messages. On Thursday we went to his college and asked if heâd been seen; however, because we didnât have the necessary form, that information
SHEILAâS STORY
Our 23-year-old son Michael was a vibrant loving young man with many attainable goals. He passed away from what we believe to be foul play. The police determined it âappearedâ to be suicide. We should point out that no detective was called to the scene. Instead, we have an FBI forensic specialist and her team who have begun to assist us in putting together all the facts, in the hope the district attorney will open the case. We never expected that weâd have to conduct an investigation on our own. To this date the district attorney has turned down two separate requests to open a case. So we will wait for the final autopsy report that we commissioned, and attempt it again. Getting a suicide ruling overturned is like pushing a boulder up a hill with your nose!
On 24 May 2009, Michael had lunch with his sister Jordan and me at our favourite deli in Northwest Portland. I had already had a quick bite to eat earlier but for some reason I felt the impulse to call Michael to see if heâd like to have lunch. Maybe I was just being a mum, knowing a college student wouldnât pass up a free meal, while the mother in me also wouldnât pass up the chance to spend time with my baby.
It was a very relaxing lunch. We planned our upcoming family day, which we do every Sunday. He let me know he would be at his brother Spencerâs high school graduation, but would miss the graduation party due to work. At one point his sister went inside the deli and Michael wanted to quickly discuss our plans for her surprise trip to Disneyland to celebrate her sixteenth birthday in December. One of our conversations was about Michaelâs thick black hair that was longer than I liked, and as I gave him my opinion on the issue he reassured me that once he finished his lead role in the upcoming independent film he was in, he would let me pay for him to get it cleaned up. I share all this because these are not the actions of someone who is contemplating suicide. I donât think Iâm alone in that observation. Following our lunch, I dropped Michael off at his apartment, and told him I loved him, to have a good night at work and that Iâd see him in a few days.
The next day I woke up with a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart that not only lasted all day but was also unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was Lymanâs and my wedding anniversary and the first time that my husband and I werenât together to share the day. Lyman was attending his nephewâs wedding in Oklahoma. I spent the day getting my yard ready for the big upcoming graduation party so that I could at least spend the weekend with my husband and kids. I was feeling pretty good about being ahead of schedule. But the ache and lump in my throat continued. Throughout the day I kept telling myself, âStop being a baby, you donât even celebrate your anniversary.â
As the week went on, neither Lyman nor I had heard from Michael. We are a very close family, and a phone call or text two or three times a day is the norm. But we had heard nothing at all from Michael, and he hadnât returned any of our messages. On Thursday we went to his college and asked if heâd been seen; however, because we didnât have the necessary form, that information
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