Spitz had assumed that Dr. Jan Garavaglia, the
medical examiner, would follow standard protocol and
open the skull, so he did not bring a saw.
Do you have a saw? Spitz asked the funeral
director. I need a saw. Any saw.
The director returned with a rusty old saw.
Spitz sawed and sawed, and after about a half an
hour, he gave up.
This saw doesnt cut, he said.
Were going to have to buy a saw, I said. The
only store open at three in the morning was Walmart.
Come on, Pat, I said to our investigator, Pat
McKenna.
When we entered the Walmart, the place was
virtually empty. There were only a handful of
employees. This was perfect. I figured wed be able to
get in and out quickly without anyone noticing us.
(Media interest in the case grew exponentially after
Caylees body was found.)
McKenna and I split up in our search for a saw,
and just as I began my search, a bus from a home for
the mentally challenged dropped off its passengers so
they could shop with the least amount of hassle. Im
looking for the saw, and one of the ladies from the bus
(she had Downs syndrome) saw me and began
shouting, Baez, Baez, Baez. She followed me
throughout the store, pointing at me and yelling, Baez,
Baez, Baez.
McKenna found a saw, and I yelled to him, Lets
get out of here. We trotted to the checkout counter
and noticed the tabloid magazines, each featuring a
horrible story about Casey. One story trumpeted,
Casey Anthonys Drunken Party. Another
proclaimed, Secrets and Lies, and yet a third featured
a story headlined, Caylees Mom Did It: She Fed
Tragic Tot to Alligators. I was looking at all these
headlines, while waiting to pay $4.99 for a saw to cut
open Caylees skull, when the woman with Downs
syndrome found me and again began yelling, Baez,
Baez, Baez.
It was surreal. I couldnt believe why I was there
and what was happening. We paid and hurried out the
door.
