Greg's sobbing subsided and turned to heavy breathing. His eyes closed. His mind wandered. Oddly enough all he could think about was his son Jeremiah, the day he died and the events that led up to it. As he he laid there on the cold floor, still curled up, his thoughts turned to dreams as he drifted once again, into slumber.
Greg's dreams were beaming him back to Cozumel. He was laying poolside at the resort. Jenna by his side. The kids, Corren, Jacie and Jeremiah, playing in the sand nearby as she read her book, glancing over occasionally to check on them. Crowds of people were vacationing, laying on the beaches, drinking, boating, swimming, all of the events any good tropical vacation would provide. The sounds of speedboats and boom boxes, ship horns and shouting were all around him. It was loud. But it was peaceful. Through all that bustling and noise he could still hear the sound of the ocean tide slamming the shore, shhhhheewwww........sheewwwwwww.........sheewwww...back and forth like a metronome of waves. The sun beat down on his body as he lay there, relaxing, completely transported and removed from all things work related. This was the life. This is what we all wake up and live and breathe and bust our asses every day for right? So someday we can vacation every day and not once a year. Retirement, the ultimate prize. Work now, rest later. But those thoughts soon turned cynical. Why am I killing myself slowly with stress and anxiety in the hopes I can someday lay on a beach? Greg wondered. Why not live now?
Greg was awakened again. This time not by a detective, but Gabrielle. She knelt down by him, gently placed her hand on his shoulder and asked if Greg could get back up into the chair.
"Greg I want to help you understand what is happening and the process we need to follow to get you the help you need. I'm asking the state to have you evaluated. You have been through an extreme amount of emotional trauma and we need to make sure you are doing ok. We are having you evaluated by Dr. Canfield, he is an independent psychiatrist. He is not affiliated with any organization. You and him, and only you and him will be relocating to a different room where he will sit down with you, get to know you and try to get to the bottom of exactly what's affecting your recollection of last nights events and causing your memory loss."
Greg retorted "I'm not crazy I don't need a psychiatrist."
"No one is saying you are crazy Gregory, but you are claiming you can't remember anything beyond having your first drink at Carl's and that was 5pm yesterday. So your mind has either blocked out or erased nearly an entire day of your life and shutdown your ability to recall it. And until we find the cause of this memory lapse, we can't address the problem, nor can we properly defend you from the charges being brought against you. None of this is going to go away on its own Greg. Not the charges, not the mental lapse and certainly not the death of Officer Kunz. This is real. And you need help. The ball is in your court. Help is here if you are willing to admit you need it by accepting it."
"Ok, ok, I'll go. But I'm not crazy!"- opined Greg "I am NOT crazy!" Gesturing his adamancy by slamming the table with his pointer finger.
Gabrielle responded- "Dr. Canfield will escort you to the evaluation room. I'll follow up with you when he is finished."
Dr.Canfield began giving Greg verbal directions to the evaluation room. Greg could hear the door slowly creaking closed as they strolled down the hallway toward an uncertainty. Dr. Canfield following closely being him. Greg felt confused and scared. He wasn't the put together well rounded man he saw in the mirror every morning. Life as he knew it was over.
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