Legacy - 15. Intuition - Paul Manning

“I know you wish you could be here,” Sam said as we talked on the telephone. “I’d love to have you here, believe me - you’re my best friend, and you were one of David’s best friends too. You’re like a brother to the both of us. Under ordinary circumstances I have little doubt that the captain would give you the time off, but this is a time of national crisis and you’re needed right where you are. You’re the chief of Baltimore Homicide, for cripes sake!”

“Yeah, like I’m going to make a fucking difference in solving the case of David Reynolds’ assassination,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You know as well as I do it’s a matter of politics,” Sam countered. I still thought of him as ‘Sam’ rather than ‘Sammy’, thanks to years of him giving me hell whenever I tried calling him the latter when we were growing up. “All across America, the police have mobilized to counter the so-called terrorist threat. Schroeder’s come close to calling out the National Guard, but that’s the last thing we need right now. More than anything, America needs to return to a sense of normality. Thanks to the ‘men in blue’, we’ve managed to avoid involving the military and that’s worth everything.

“You may be as far removed from being a ‘beat cop’ as can be, but first and foremost you’re still a police officer and the Police Commissioner can hardly cancel vacations and call everyone back to the force unless he does so across the board, particularly at the top.”

“Yeah, but how many members of the force are personal friends of the President and First Family?” I challenged.

“That’s a valid point,” Sam admitted, “and when we get closer to the time of the funeral, I’m sure you’ll have little difficulty getting special dispensation, particularly with a formal invitation from Jeremy. I’ll make sure he sends a letter to the Police Commissioner, personally. Kurt will make it happen. You just need to be patient,” he admonished me.

“I’ve never been one to be patient,” I admitted aloud.

“No, you haven’t,” Sam agreed, “but we love you anyway.

“Speaking of police work,” Sam continued, “have you had any premonitions about who killed David?”

Sam was referring to my uncanny ability to ‘see’ a murder from the perspective of the victim. Since I could remember, I’d always had premonitions about the future. It was like watching a movie about something that was going to happen in the future. When I was a teenager, I ‘saw’ David’s funeral when we visited Arlington Cemetery. I’d since seen his actual assassination a number of times in my mind, in increasingly graphic detail.

Now that his assassination had actually happened, it only seemed natural that I’d see even more detail, including who actually did the deed but, so far, I’d seen nothing. That brought to mind a more recent aspect of my ‘visions’. Not only could I see things that had yet to happen, but I could sometimes see things that had recently happened from the viewpoint of the victim. When I first joined the Baltimore Police force, I quickly realized that I could often relive a crime just by talking to the victim. It was like seeing a flashback from their mind’s eye. Not only that, but I could see details often overlooked by the victim - details that, more often than not, led me to the perpetrator.

Of course I never told anyone about my abilities except my wife Linda and those of my friends who already knew about my premonitions. I had little doubt that, if I told my superiors in the police force, I’d have been committed to a psych ward faster than I could say ‘hallucination’. Still, my uncanny ability to solve crimes didn’t go unnoticed. The Captain called it ‘intuition’, and I made detective just two years after joining the force.

After two years in Narcotics and two years in Major Crimes, I found myself assigned to Homicide, where I quickly developed a reputation for solving the unsolvable. Not only did my ability to see events through the eyes of the victim work with the living, but it seemed to work just as well with the dead. I only needed to visit a crime once to piece together the grizzly details of a murder. My superiors were amazed by my abilities - my ‘intuition’ - but this all came at a price.

As a human being, I could only take so much of seeing murder after murder. It felt as if they had been committed against me and it was taking a toll. Each victim became a part of me and their suffering became embedded in my soul. It was affecting my relationship with Linda and with our young children. If I didn’t take drastic action, I was going to lose my wife and my family. Worse still, I was going to go insane.

At least Linda understood what I was going through. Frankly, she cut me more slack than I deserved. Linda was really special. She was the only one who knew the full story of my premonitions, and the only one who knew about the dreams I’d been having ever since my friend Cliff, after whom we named our son, passed away when the three of us were only fourteen. Linda had been Cliff’s girlfriend at the time. She was so in love with him and took it really hard when he died of AIDS. Linda herself was HIV-positive back then and, like my friend, Sam, eventually was cured.

Linda and I gravitated to each other in the weeks following Cliff’s funeral, more as a matter of consoling each other than one of sexual attraction, although she understood my unique connection to Cliff and told me that she could feel Cliff’s presence from time to time. It was during that time that I started having my dreams. The dreams weren’t at all like my premonitions. I dreamt that Cliff and I were together in a place I’d never seen before.

Cliff would tell me things and help me to interpret my premonitions in ways I hadn’t thought of. In particular, he asked me to watch over Linda and Sam. He came to me frantically one night and asked me to beg Sam not to go to college after only one year of high school. I didn’t even know Sam was thinking about it, but it turned out he was. I tried hard to get him to change his mind but his parents and even Sam felt it was something he had to do.

Going to college when he was so young almost destroyed Sam. It wasn’t until he almost flunked out and was assaulted that he finally slowed down. It was then that Cliff came to me with a way out for Sam but we both knew that, as much as Sam loved me, he’d never take me seriously on something like this. We were just too close and I just wasn’t smart enough back then. Cliff therefore suggested I approach Sam’s brother Trevor, and Trevor approached Sam with the idea of taking a semester off and going to Ivy Tech. The strategy worked and Sam got his life back on track. It was the first of many times Cliff intervened in Sam’s life through me. I was so thankful for that insight.

One night, Cliff told me to take good care of Linda and that she was the one for me. When I told Linda about it, she said she knew the message came from Cliff and that he was right. From then on we were a couple. We dated a lot during our last two years of high school and, yes, our relationship became physical. We attended both the Junior and Senior proms together and we made plans for our life together. We even began to seriously think about marriage.

Although it would be years before the cure became available for HIV, little did I know how much of my own life would soon be dominated by medical treatment.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Born with a genetic disorder known as Down’s Syndrome, I grew up in special education classes, unable to absorb the information that came easily to most. I was easily distracted and just couldn’t reason normally. Things that were obvious to my best friend, Sam, went way above my head. However Sam made an effort to help me compensate for my shortcomings in a way that none of my teachers ever did – and, I think, never could. He tutored me throughout the latter part of seventh grade, summer school and eighth grade. By the time I started eighth grade, I was in regular classes and by the time I finished middle school, I had a solid ‘C’ average.

Even when he moved on to advanced classes in high school and then off to college, Sam continued to help me with my studies. All I ever had to do was call or text him and within hours, we’d be Skyping away and Sam would be making it all clear as could be. Thanks to Sam, I was able to remain in regular classes throughout high school and graduated with a ‘B’ average.

While I could handle a short test or even a final exam for a class, longer exams just wore me down. I didn’t have the attention span to stay focused, as was abundantly clear the first time I took the SAT, ranking in the fifth percentile. Fascinated by the police dramas I watched on television, what I really wanted to do was go to college and get a degree in Criminology, but what college would take me with SAT scores like that?

With strong letters of recommendation, I was at least able to get into a local community college to start my studies and I actually did OK. Ivy Tech had a two-year Criminal Justice program and so that’s what I chose. College wasn’t like high school, though. It required a degree of discipline I never really had. Living at home with my parents, they helped me stay focused. I thought that perhaps I might be able to transfer to IUPUI, the local state university campus in town, or maybe even Butler, where Linda was going to school, but everyone told me those schools were much more rigorous. As I was completing my two years at the community college, for the first time in my life I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. It was still a matter of focus for me.

It was at that point that Cynthia Roth, Jeremy’s and Cliff’s mom who was herself a cancer doctor, approached me about a new experiment she’d read about for treating kids with Down’s Syndrome. It wasn’t really intended for adults, as it was thought young children with brains that were still developing were much more likely to benefit from the treatment, but Dr. Roth submitted my name to the program anyway. Because I’d done so well in my studies and was highly motivated, the researchers decided to take me anyway, ‘off protocol’ as they put it. I was to be a unique test subject.

The study took place at the Johns Hopkins University Hospital, located in Baltimore, and it involved daily infusions of drugs along with synthetic ‘anti-genes’ to my extra chromosome. It would require a two-year commitment and carried significant risks. I was informed in no uncertain terms that although unlikely, I could die from the treatment. There was also a chance that the treatment could ‘unmask’ recessive genes that cause ALS, Alzheimer’s Disease, several types of cancer and a few other genetic disorders. Although uncommon, these were serious enough effects to make me stop and think about whether I really wanted to proceed.

If successful, on the other hand, my attention span would increase, my ability to learn would improve and the heart abnormalities that would otherwise plague me all my life, would go away. In every sense I’d be normal, and I was assured that the things that made me, me, wouldn’t be altered. I’d still be the same old Paul but I’d be able to get through college and ultimately enter the workforce with confidence.

The opportunity to become normal was to me an incredible gift and, even though it entailed risk, I jumped at it. Linda, for her part, fully supported me and she transferred to Towson University so we could be together during the two years that my treatment would run. Actually, all my friends that I grew up with said I should go for it but it was Sam that had the best way of putting the pros and cons so I knew it was the right decision.

By then Linda and I knew we were destined to be together and so, on a beautiful late spring day, shortly after I graduated from Ivy Tech, Linda and I were married. Sam of course was my best man and Kayla Gardner Reynolds, Brad Reynolds’ wife and Linda’s best friend, was her matron of honor.

For our honeymoon, we took a yacht cruise in Alaska’s Inner Passage. It was a gift from our parents - mostly mine - and for eight days we saw whales, bears and eagles up close and personal, caught fresh fish that our chef served up for us each evening, and saw things that folks on the big cruise ships could never hope to see. Of course none of this came cheap and, although our parents wouldn’t tell us how much they spent, I looked it up on-line and found the charter company charged forty thousand dollars for a cruise like ours. Yikes!

The thing that was really special about our honeymoon, however, was the amount of privacy we had. Whenever Linda and I wanted to make love, be it day or night, the entire crew would conveniently disappear from sight, and boy did we make love - a lot.

After returning from our honeymoon, we moved to Baltimore, where I began my experimental treatments. Although I’d been warned about the horrendous side effects that might result from the therapy - side effects not unlike those typically associated with chemotherapy - nothing could have prepared me for the reality they entailed. The theory behind the cure was straightforward, but the actual treatment took me to Hell and back, over and over again.

Down’s Syndrome is caused by having an extra twenty-first chromosome. Scientists had long ago mapped the entire chromosome and identified the region responsible for Down’s Syndrome. The problem in my case was that two of the three twenty-first chromosomes I had were identical and, hence, there was no way to inactivate one of them without inactivating both. The only option for me was to inactivate the chromosome I’d gotten from my dad, which meant that after treatment, both functioning twenty-first chromosomes would be from my mom. Recessive traits or diseases that she carried could very well manifest themselves after the treatment was complete, and we wouldn’t have a clue for many of them until it was too late.

Although the prospect of developing a genetic disorder even worse than Down’s Syndrome had me scared shitless, the more immediate concern was the side effects from simultaneously inactivating genes in every cell in my body. This sort of thing was highly experimental and the results unpredictable. The one thing that was just about guaranteed was that cells that turn over rapidly - those in the skin, the hair follicles, the bone marrow and the gut, would be affected first.

I was scared out of my mind but at least each treatment was short-lived and I always had Linda or Sam by my side. Sam was working on his doctorate at New York University, just a two-hour train ride away, as he put it. He always made it a point to be there, particularly when Linda was busy with her studies, but even when he couldn’t, he called me every night to see how I was doing. He was a friend beyond compare.

It only took a matter of a few days after the treatment began to realize exactly what to expect. I developed severe diarrhea as well as nausea and vomiting. My hair started to fall out in clumps and was completely gone within the first two weeks. Within a month, my skin looked like that of a seventy-year-old rather than a twenty-year-old. I also developed something called pancytopenia, which meant that all my blood cells were in short supply. I ended up having to take powerful drugs to kick my bone marrow into overdrive but they made me feel like I had the flu.

The doctors did everything they could to mitigate the symptoms but nothing really made it any easier on me. I think Linda took it even harder than I did. Eventually I came to accept that I’d feel deathly ill with each new round of treatment and to take solace in the fact that the side effects were completely reversible. Once finished, my hair would grow back, my blood counts would return to normal and my skin would resume its youthful appearance, although I’d still retain the facial features associated with Down’s Syndrome.

It was during the lengthy treatment at Hopkins that Linda and I befriended Detective Brian Singer, a member of the Baltimore Police Department’s Homicide unit. He was recently divorced and, thanks to his child support payments, short on cash. He lived next door to us in the same apartment complex on Greenspring Avenue, near Northern Parkway. We’d chosen the apartment because it was cheap, in a decent neighborhood and convenient to both Towson University and Johns Hopkins University Hospital.

Brian became a regular at our place, regaling us with story after story of his many years as a detective. We learned all about the ins and outs of police work and more than I ever wanted to know about police politics. In spite of all that, I became increasingly intrigued by what he did and the opportunity to put what I’d studied about the criminal justice system to the actual solving of crimes, especially murder. Before the treatments at Hopkins, I’d never even considered the possibility that I could qualify to be a police detective but, as my mental abilities improved, I became consumed by the idea. At first Linda wasn’t particularly thrilled by my new vocational interest, but she supported me nonetheless.

It took about four months of treatment before we noticed that something was actually happening. Things that used to be difficult for me became much easier. I was slightly more focused, had a longer attention span and greatly improved memory. As the treatment continued, so did my thinking abilities to the point that I could do crossword puzzles and Sudoku - things that I previously could never get the hang of. By the end of the first year of treatment, I could actually read and finish a book for pleasure. It had been a struggle to read literature in high school and college but now I actually enjoyed it.

However, Linda and I seriously considered calling a halt when a serious infection developed in my right leg. When it failed to respond to antibiotics, the doctors were forced to amputate it, just six inches below the knee. I was only halfway through the protocol and, even without the amputation, I was seriously fed up with the side effects of the treatment. As my intelligence was already well within the normal range and more than adequate for me to finish college and get into the Police Academy, I wondered if there was any point to continuing.

Sam was equally apprehensive about continuing the treatment but always supportive when we spoke. He made me analyze every aspect and explain it to him. Unfortunately, as was explained to us, stopping the treatment would leave too many cells with three functioning twenty-first chromosomes and, in time, they would replace most of the treated cells. The Down’s Syndrome would reassert itself if we didn’t allow the treatment to continue. What would have been the point in having come this far and losing a leg if I ended up no better in the end?

On the bright side, we had reached the halfway point and, if I’d managed to make it this far, I could surely hold out until I was rid of my Down’s Syndrome for good. Thanks to new developments in prosthetic design, I was able to wear a titanium and carbon composite artificial leg that looked like and, with a lot of physiotherapy and encouragement from Linda and Sam, functioned as well as my own.

We stuck it out and, at the end of the second year of treatment, I retook my SAT and scored respectably well at the 73rd percentile. I then applied to the Criminal Justice program at IUPUI and to the Criminology program at Butler University, and was accepted to both. Linda was going for her MSW - she was going to be a social worker - and was accepted at Butler, which is where she’d started her college education, as well as at IUPUI. Given its smaller size and its status as an elite private university, we both chose Butler.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Four months later, I stood by Sam’s side as he took his wedding vows. The aura I saw surrounding both him and Sally was as bright as any I’d ever seen. I had a nagging suspicion that the marriage might not last all that long but, at this time and place, I knew down deep that Sally and Sam were right for each other. They really needed each other at that stage in their lives. It was truly a matter of fate.

As far as Professor Lee was concerned, it turned out he’d spent some time in Special Ed when he was a kid because he was a little slow in reading at first. It hadn’t taken long before his teachers realized he was actually gifted but, by then, his impressions of kids with Down’s Syndrome were etched in place. He was only trying to help me, misguided as that help would have been.

Once I spoke to him, he treated me like all the other students. He became my absolute favorite professor and, eventually, a lifelong friend.

After finishing college, with a strong letter of recommendation from Detective Brian singer, I applied and was accepted to the Baltimore Police Academy. Thus began my meteoric rise in the police force. Although I faced a lot of discrimination at first, my ability to solve crimes could not be ignored. I was a detective before I reached thirty and a Sergeant shortly after that. However, by the time I was thirty-five, I was rapidly burning out and becoming increasingly estranged from my wife and my two small children. Something had to be done.

My plan was to ask to be reassigned to another division, possibly back to Major Crimes or Auto Theft; however, Cliff came to me in one of my dreams and advised me to flat-out resign. I didn’t want to resign - I loved detective work - I just couldn’t stand working Homicide anymore. Cliff asked me to take a leap of faith - to trust him - and I did.

Within twenty-four hours of submitting my resignation, I was sitting in the Captain’s office and being offered the position of night shift commander of the Homicide unit. Although it meant working nights and putting up with a hell of a lot of administrative paperwork and politics, it meant a lot less time spent on the street. It was a huge promotion and just what I needed.

Three years later, when the division chief retired, I was promoted to lieutenant and made the director of Homicide at the unprecedented age of thirty-eight, a position I’ve held for the past nine years - and I love my job.