YOUR MOTHER'S WHERE YOU'LL FIND HER

One night I dreamt about my mother, father, and I loading the freezer. My mother passed to my father, my father to me, and I lay them in their designated places like every fall when our butchered cows arrived packaged in servings of three. But the faded pink writing on the packages that usually said hamburger, T-bone, roast, said right arm, left leg, ribcage.
—“Killers” by Kami Westhoff

I’m amazed at how long someone can turn up missing and not be found. In past postings I mentioned a former inmate that I had regular contact with. They called him Freezer Man. He was a Detroit Public School Administrator who killed his wife and stored her body in the basement freezer for three grueling years. I’ve often wondered why his teenage daughters hadn’t cooperated with the authorities. Why didn’t they say something about the padlock on the freezer? The situation could have been resolved immediately. They could’ve called off whatever searches were planned. But we’re talking about their father, we’re talking about emotional involvement here, a certain closeness to the man who helped raise them. Did they ever discuss amongst themselves what would happen if their father were taken away? Did they ever argue about it?

It’s fairly obvious that the daughters were in some type of denial. But when did things change? Had they actually thought their mother had abandoned them? And without a trace or shred of evidence to suggest she started her life over? There were no credit card charges. No cell phone usage. No sightings. Nothing. Vanished into thin air. Or did their father say something to indicate his guilt? Did he make his one daughter feel responsible? After all, it was her boyfriend that started the chain of events that could never be undone. The Freezer Man had learned about his wife’s sexual escapades with the daughter’s boyfriend and that’s what set him off. They argued in the basement, he grabbed her, and for once in his life he became extremely angry and acted out on his hurt and his pain. He started bashing her head against a basement pole, not once, not twice, but repeatedly, until there was no more life left in her.

The Freezer Man did less than ten years for his horrible deed. The courts said it was “a crime of passion.” One daughter supported the judge’s decision to re-sentence him, to give him “time served” and a chance to rebuild his life; The other daughter didn’t want anything more to do with him.

I mention this case as our local sheriff’s department searches for Tara Lynn Grant, a thirty-four year old mother who disappeared more than two weeks ago. Her husband reported her missing, but he isn’t cooperating with the authorities on advice from his lawyer. How long will it take until they find her? How long?

Connie chewed her lip and worked up her nerve to ask where was Momma? And their father said, hitching up his suspenders, on his way outside, “Your mother’s where you’ll find her.”
—“Faithless” by Joyce Carole Oates