through twelve pages on Mary’s treatment and details of how each one would help her. He paused at psychiatric. Impairment: brain injury. Function: emotional regularity. Participation: inability to regulate emotions/thoughts.
Joe looked up. ‘Let’s say Mary can make sense of these letters-’
‘She might not,’ said Julia. ‘She might not remember writing them at all.’
‘OK, but let’s say she does. Can we believe what she is saying to us?’
‘I would say so. Yes. If you can decipher it.’
Danny looked up from his notebook. ‘How do you think her injury might have happened?’
‘Her medical records are confidential, as you can appreciate. Unless Mary gives you permission to access them. Or her guardian does.’
‘Who’s her guardian?’
‘Her older brother, David Burig.’
‘We’ll get his details from you, if that’s OK,’ said Joe.
‘Sure,’ said Julia. ‘Mary’s lucky to have David. There’s not a lot of support out there for people with a TBI. Places like Colt-Embry are not common. Most of the time, people are released from hospital into rehab and after that, they’re on their own, back home expected to function as they did before. It’s crazy. And a lot of people are not covered to stay in a place like this. If they don’t have the right insurance, they better have a wealthy family. Can you imagine? Just to be able to live normally? It’s crazy. And because a lot of people physically look the same as they did before the injury, people expect them to act “normally” and when they don’t, they can’t handle it. It’s a very hard thing for everyone to have to adjust to.’
‘How does Mary’s injury affect her, like day to day?’ said Joe.
‘Mary suffered right temporal lobe damage. The temporal lobe is all about memory, emotional stability, reading social cues – crucial parts of everyday life,’ said Julia. ‘Someone who’s had the right side damaged, like Mary, would have problems interpreting facial expressions, so would find it hard to know if you’re angry, sad, etc. Also there would be tone-of-voice issues – their own speech patterns are quite flat and also, they won’t recognize, for example, sarcasm in your tone. They’re not great with humor. Anything non-verbal: faces, music, shapes – she’ll have a problem with. A lot of Mary’s long-term memory is intact. Her short-term memory is where she has difficulties. For example, she may remember someone visiting her apartment this morning, but she may not remember why.’
‘What about all her writing?’ said Joe.
‘That’s because she has temporal lobe epilepsy and what can go along with that is hypergraphia. Basically, she is compelled to write. She can’t help herself. The length of what she writes can vary, so can the quality. Dostoevsky was hypergraphic. Poe was. And Lewis Carroll – you know Alice in Wonderland? Apparently the inspiration came from what happens in the aura part of a seizure when objects will seem to be getting bigger or smaller. You can go into Mary’s room and find her writings everywhere. She likes fancy notepaper, so she’s got stacks of that. She’s written on toilet paper, the back of receipts, cereal boxes, even the wall once.’ She smiled.
‘Do you read what she writes?’
‘No. Just because Mary has a brain injury doesn’t mean we can all waltz right in there and invade her privacy. She has an apartment, it’s her space, what she does there is her business. I mean, within reason. Obviously, we need to keep an eye on things.’
‘Why do you think she’s writing to us?’
‘I don’t know. You can ask Mary. I told her you were coming in. It really distressed her, just so you know. She’s been a little at sea, because her TSS was away.’
‘TSS?’ said Joe.
‘Sorry – that’s Therapeutic Support Staff. Her name is Magda Oleszak, but she’s been on vacation. Someone else was filling in, which always unsettles Mary.’
‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘We’ll bear that in mind. Back to why Mary got in contact with us…’
‘Right. It may be she saw you on the news, in the newspaper. It’s common that someone like Mary might feel responsible for every ill in the world. You and I could watch a news report on a murder or a natural disaster and feel terrible for the victims and their family, while Mary might feel genuine guilt and wish she could do something about it. The religious element to her condition taps into this too. She wants to reach out, help people. People with brain injuries can be very me-centric. Mary is no different. But she is also concerned with other people’s welfare in her own way. She’s very kind to the other clients here.’
‘Is Mary on any medication?’ said Joe.
‘As usual, I’m torn here, with what I can reveal to you.’ She sighed. ‘But I want to help. Let me check the file.’ She looked through it. ‘When she got here, Mary was taking 300mg of Dilantin – an anti-seizure medication – but that didn’t agree with her. So the doctors moved her over to 500 mg of Sodium Valproate three times a day, but her hair started to thin out. When she started losing patches of it, she was very upset, so she stopped all medication. And she was fine. Up until three months ago, when she had the first seizure.’
‘We received the first letter a month ago.’
‘Yes. And she’s had more seizures since then.’
There was a knock on the door.
‘Yes,’ said Julia. ‘This will be Mary,’ she said to them. ‘Come in, Mary.’
Mary Burig squeezed through the tiny gap she made for herself in the door and closed it behind her. She was dressed in a pale pink oversized cardigan, a blue silk tank, jeans and flip-flops. With her head bowed, her hair – black and shiny, parted in the center – hung down in front of her face.
‘Hi Mary,’ said Julia. ‘Come on in. Sit down.’
Mary raised her head slowly and looked first at Danny. Something caught in his chest.
‘Hi Mary,’ said Joe. ‘I’m Detective Joe Lucchesi.’
‘Oh, hi,’ she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
‘Detective Danny Markey,’ said Danny, half standing.
‘Hi.’
‘Take a seat, Mary,’ said Julia.
‘We met Stanley Frayte earlier,’ said Joe. ‘He was mailing a letter for you. We have your letters here. Did you write these?’
‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘How many do you have there?’
‘Three,’ said Joe.
‘But I sent you fifteen.’
‘Fifteen,’ said Danny. ‘You’ve been busy.’
She smiled. ‘Can I see the one you have there?’
Mary took the plastic bag with the napkin and stared down at it, slowly reading through it, her head bent, her hair falling down to cover her cheeks. She shifted in the chair, pushing her feet back underneath it, crossing her legs at the ankles. Several minutes passed. Joe looked towards Julia Embry who gave a tiny shrug. He gave her a small smile and waited. Lights flashed across the bottom of Julia’s phone. Her focus stayed on Mary, whose hair was now covering most of her face, until she tucked one side of it back behind her ear and they could all see the tears streaming down her face. When she looked at Julia and then Joe, the pale eyes that had seemed so shining and clear were now dark with fear and confusion.
‘Mary, does this letter mean anything to you?’ said Joe.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
FIFTEEN
Someone had brought Stanley Frayte a Coke and some chocolate. The can was crushed as small as it could go and the chocolate wrapper was twisted tightly and rammed into the hole. He jumped when Danny and Joe walked back in.
‘OK, Stanley, we spoke with Mary’ said Joe. ‘She’s confirmed what you told us. So we’re done here for now.
