Q. What did you find when you arrived at the scene?
A. When I arrived at the premises at approximately 4:00 a.m. on September 11th, uniformed officers were on the scene. There was broken glass, overturned furniture. Books knocked off a shelf. And, as I said, a substantial amount of blood. There was also some evidence of an attempted cleanup.
Q. Was Ms. Callahan present?
A. She was not.
Q. What initial conclusion did you arrive at regarding what had taken place at that time?
A. That there had been some kind of altercation in the apartment that had caused at least severe bodily injury to Ms. Callahan, given the amount of blood at the scene.
Q. Did there come a time when you became convinced that a murder had taken place?
A. When we discovered the full extent of the blood.
Q. Where did you find that?
A. The living room. Luminol revealed evidence of a much larger amount that had been cleaned up.
Q. What did this lead you to conclude at that time?
A. That Frankie Callahan had been murdered.
Before
Frankie
September 9
I’m sound asleep when the ringing wakes me. I see that I’ve missed five calls before this one, all from the same 508 number. The Senator. But not a single voicemail.
“Hello?” My voice is hoarse. “Please stop calling me. I’m not going to tell anyone about us. Just please stop.”
Silence. Followed by some breathing. A moment later, he hangs up. And then a text.
You know you can’t ignore me, right? I know where you live. I’d find someplace better to hide.
My hand holding the phone is shaking as I stare down at it. And then another message. This one with a new photo taken only hours earlier—of Richard and me outside the subway steps.
***
I dressed quickly in the pitch dark, tugging on two layers of long underwear under my hard-shell pants and fleece, then my down jacket and Gore-Tex shell, wool beanie, gloves, balaclava, glacier goggles. And on top of it all, my warmest parka. It was impossible to breathe. Sweat was already trickling down my spine.
But as soon as I emerged from the tent, I was glad for the layers. It was brutally cold, the wind howling and burning my small patches of exposed skin. No stars overhead now. No sign of the moon. Full dark. Barely 4:00 a.m.
It was a relief to make my way into the dining tent. Bakari, at least, was bright-eyed and excited. Van, Richard, Scotty, and Brooks,stone-faced as they ate breakfast, less so. Everyone was wearing hard hats. Before I could even inquire, Bakari handed one to me.
“You have on all your layers?” he asked.
“Yes, all of them.” I pressed a hand against my swollen chest as I looked at the hard hat in my hands. “I don’t feel the most…mobile.”
Bakari smiled and nodded. “Warm is more important for now. You can always take something off.” He nodded toward the food. “Eat quickly and then we will go.”
Once I was seated, he placed the helmet on my head, checking the fit as if I were a toddler. “Give me your light. I will put it on.” He adjusted the chin strap and secured my headlamp. “Perfect,” he proclaimed.
“Okay,” I said tentatively, both wanting and not wanting to know exactly what the helmet was for. “Great.”
“Kito will be in to check everyone’s numbers before we go.” Bakari clapped his hands together once, like a camp counselor.
