I Swear You Will Be Fine

Honestly, I was telling Shalini the other day- are we giving this guy too much credit by having so many posts on him? She said it wasn’t like we were actually giving him credit. And this is our journey. So it makes sense I guess.

On the night you died, IO W told me the case would take 6 months. I thought at the time (even through the shock and all), why this should take so long. There really wasn’t much to investigate here. 

But it certainly took 6 months. More than 6 months actually. 

Interestingly, because of our connection to Australia, it was the Australian High Commission (AHC) who reached out to me days after you died and offered counselling. Incidentally, the Officer who called from AHC was also named Josh. During the months that followed, they would call me intermittently asking about details of the case. They also concurred with me on the apparent unnecessary length of the investigation.

Late July, I finally got a text from IO W.

IO W: Come to the police station tomorrow.

Me: Ok

(minutes later)

Me: What for? (note the lack of politeness in my messages)

IO W: Case is closed. You can collect his phone.

So the next day, Jess, Shalini and I went together to the Police Station. There was strangely a lot of angst, despite this likely being the least of our traumatic experiences. Perhaps because it was the end. Perhaps we were worried we would find something on your phone. I can’t even explain why. But by now, we had come to amuse ourselves with IO W’s communication. When we arrived at the station, we each took a bet as to how long the whole procedure would take. The longest we bet was 20 minutes. 

IO W took 20 minutes to just come down and meet us. He took a look at the 3 of us and said, “Only Mother come with me”. Shalini and Jess looked at him with distaste. I tried not to show my emotion and followed him.

As we were waiting for the lift, surrounded by at least 8 people within earshot, he looked at me and said, “so, the cause of death is XXXX”. Unbelievable. I just said “ok”. Though I wanted to say a lot more. He looked at me again and said, “you want to ask me anything?”. I said no. I actually wanted to correct him on the cause of death, but I thought it was pointless.

Again I was led to a tiny, very much dated room. He asked me to wait there. I knew I was very anxious while waiting. I don’t even know why. In recent years, you and I would have many conversations about dissociation. I could never really understand it. I’ve even discussed it with Jess, but didn’t quite get it. Strangely, it was at that moment, waiting for IO W to return with your phone, that I realised I was perhaps dissociating. It felt like another person’s story. Not mine. Not yours. And it was like I was just watching it.

IO W returned to the room about 10 minutes later. There was a ziplock bag with a phone. And now the joke was on me.

I don’t know what it was. Perhaps the anxiety and stress of it all. I looked at the phone with the black cover and said, “that’s not Josh’s phone”. I remembered it as being green with some black designs.

IO W panicked. He turned the bag over. And I saw the password. It was yours. But I still felt it wasn’t your phone.

IO W: Cannot be lah

Me: No, that’s not his phone

IO W: You see properly

Me: No, it’s not his phone. His phone had his credit cards. Where are his credit cards?

(IO W now visibly looked sick)

Minutes later, we opened the bag and took out the phone. I looked at the back and there was a compartment. I managed to open it and there were his credit cards. Ok, it was your phone. I had forgotten that you changed your phone cover a few weeks before you died. Shalini reminded me about this later. But I refused to apologise to him.

After signing a couple of documents, I was ready to leave. 

IO W: Eh, you sure ah? You check properly, this his phone?

Me: Yes, yes, don’t worry.

IO W: You don’t scare me leh. You don’t scare me…..

Hilarious.

I have to say though, despite the million issues with the way this whole thing was carried out, (and giving us multiple episodes of sometimes uncontrollable laughter), there were some things that were good. 

From stories on The Compassionate Friends, many mothers spoke of days of trauma from reading Medical Examiner’s reports, and even having to look at pictures. I can’t imagine how horrible that would be. I didn’t have to do anything of the sort. And I am grateful for that. Perhaps, another bit in this whole situation you played a part in to reduce my trauma. If only I could have reduced yours.

And there you have it. That was the end of IO W. I doubt we will ever have to see him again. Though never is still too soon.

Love you darling,

Mum