Theophilus
New Member
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2009
- Messages
- 12
- Reaction score
- 6
Some of you raise questions about the attorney who found the raincoat. His actions apparently raise suspicions with you.
I wish to offer a plausible possible scenario which will support my view that there is nothing necessarily suspicious about the attorney's behavior.
He's driving to pick up his housekeeper early on a Tuesday morning. He drives past the raincoat, maybe even drives over it. He notes it, but he's a man on a mission, so he keeps going.
He picks up his housekeeper. She is undoubtedly a woman, and my expectation is she's an older woman. I can picture there being a certain friendly familiarity in their relationship; he is, after all, willing to drive out to her rural home at 8:25 on a Tuesday morning to bring her back to his house in London, Ohio, before he goes to work. What, she doesn't have her own car?
Maybe they make small talk as they go. Together they see the raincoat-- for all I know, the bright blue side of it, caught by the morning sun.
"Some kid's lost a raincoat," says Mrs. Housekeeper.
"Yes, I saw that before, on the way to get you," says Mr. Attorney.
"Looks almost brand-new. Oh, do please stop. I remember my Timmy lost his coat one time. Cost us a good $40."
He sighs. She shoots him a look. "It'll only take a minute. And weren't you telling me just the other day how your little girl was all the time losing things?"
He can't help but laugh. "She's not so little anymore. She's 21 now. But, yes, I remember very well." He puts on the brakes and hits the emergency blinkers. She hops out, trots back to the coat, picks it up and brings it back.
"No identification. Ha! Just this little bolt in one of the pockets. The things kids think to pick up."
"Maybe it belongs to a little boy, then."
"Oh, no. Look at the cut of it, and the size. This is a little girl's raincoat. Why it even smells like a little girl."
He chuckles. Mrs. Housekeeper is quite a character, and very much to his liking. "Well, no I.D. No name tag. Look, just put it in the floorboard there. We'll sort out what to do with it later on."
"Maybe it belongs to one of the neighbors. If we're lucky, maybe we'll hear about a missing raincoat. Then won't we feel like we've done our good deed if we get it back to them!"
"I don't like our chances." He looks over at her. She scolds him silently with her eyes. He chuckles and looks back at the road. "But maybe you're right."
Obviously, all this is conjecture, woven into a little narrative in hopes of making it clear and understable. But my proposed flow of events is plausible, and it fits the known facts. Very respectfully, I think it is not helpful to raise suspicions about a man who only belatedly realized the significance of helpful evidence he had found. It's something that happens quite a lot in murder cases.
I wish to offer a plausible possible scenario which will support my view that there is nothing necessarily suspicious about the attorney's behavior.
He's driving to pick up his housekeeper early on a Tuesday morning. He drives past the raincoat, maybe even drives over it. He notes it, but he's a man on a mission, so he keeps going.
He picks up his housekeeper. She is undoubtedly a woman, and my expectation is she's an older woman. I can picture there being a certain friendly familiarity in their relationship; he is, after all, willing to drive out to her rural home at 8:25 on a Tuesday morning to bring her back to his house in London, Ohio, before he goes to work. What, she doesn't have her own car?
Maybe they make small talk as they go. Together they see the raincoat-- for all I know, the bright blue side of it, caught by the morning sun.
"Some kid's lost a raincoat," says Mrs. Housekeeper.
"Yes, I saw that before, on the way to get you," says Mr. Attorney.
"Looks almost brand-new. Oh, do please stop. I remember my Timmy lost his coat one time. Cost us a good $40."
He sighs. She shoots him a look. "It'll only take a minute. And weren't you telling me just the other day how your little girl was all the time losing things?"
He can't help but laugh. "She's not so little anymore. She's 21 now. But, yes, I remember very well." He puts on the brakes and hits the emergency blinkers. She hops out, trots back to the coat, picks it up and brings it back.
"No identification. Ha! Just this little bolt in one of the pockets. The things kids think to pick up."
"Maybe it belongs to a little boy, then."
"Oh, no. Look at the cut of it, and the size. This is a little girl's raincoat. Why it even smells like a little girl."
He chuckles. Mrs. Housekeeper is quite a character, and very much to his liking. "Well, no I.D. No name tag. Look, just put it in the floorboard there. We'll sort out what to do with it later on."
"Maybe it belongs to one of the neighbors. If we're lucky, maybe we'll hear about a missing raincoat. Then won't we feel like we've done our good deed if we get it back to them!"
"I don't like our chances." He looks over at her. She scolds him silently with her eyes. He chuckles and looks back at the road. "But maybe you're right."
Obviously, all this is conjecture, woven into a little narrative in hopes of making it clear and understable. But my proposed flow of events is plausible, and it fits the known facts. Very respectfully, I think it is not helpful to raise suspicions about a man who only belatedly realized the significance of helpful evidence he had found. It's something that happens quite a lot in murder cases.
