© 2022 Phylicia Joannis
Sydney smiled at Dr. Jengal as he entered her office. His brown skin held a reddish tint at the neck. Judging by the scowl on his face, he wasn’t nearly as happy to see her as she was to see him. “Dr. Jengal,” Sydney began. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“Ms. Allen, I believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”
He eyed her desk, and Sydney pushed the papers strewn across them out of his reach.
“That autopsy report. It wasn’t meant for you, and if I had proof that you’d taken it, I’d be pressing charges. I’m asking you, kindly, to remove it and all copies you’ve likely made from your possession.”
“Oh, Dr. Jengal, I think we’re beyond formalities. Call me Sydney.”
Dr. Jengal’s frown deepened. “Ms. Allen!”
“I only took what was in the envelope with my name on it. Scout’s honor.”
“Ms. Allen, please?”
“The level of redaction on that report is quite ridiculous, you know. But I did find something very interesting.” She wasn’t quite ready to admit she had the full report. She’d see what she could get out of him without revealing her hand. “The name of the lab used for the autopsy samples, for example. It’s not a lab you’ve used in the past. Why is that?” Without the full report she might have overlooked the name of the lab. But he didn’t have to know that.
“We use a few different companies,” Dr. Jengal replied. “Ms. Allen, I don’t know what your game is here, but I need you to return that report and destroy all copies.”
Sydney gathered the papers on her desk. “You mean this report? It’s hardly worth all the trouble you’re going through. But here.”
Dr. Jengal snatched the papers, rifling through them, then set them back on her desk. “This is the redacted version.”
“Isn’t that what you gave me?” Sydney pursed her lips.
“Well yes, but . . .” Dr. Jengal sputtered. “The full report was in my files. Admit it. You took it.”
“The only thing I took out of your office was the envelope handed to me by Dr. Vasquez. Didn’t he say as much?” Sydney stepped closer to Dr. Jengal, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “I was wearing a form fitting dress, quite similar to this one. Tell me, Dr. Jengal. Where exactly would I hide an autopsy report?” She leaned in closer, and he took a step back, clearing his throat.
“I don’t know how you did it, but–”
“Dr. Jengal, I’m starting to get a bit angry. I don’t like being called a liar.” Sydney clicked her tongue. “But I’m willing to let it slide if you’ll answer a few questions for me. The lab you used for the samples. Tell me why you used it.”
“I told you, Ms. Allen, we use different labs.”
“Sure, sure. But you’ve never used this one before. I went through hundreds of records and couldn’t find this lab in any of them. With so much at stake, why use a different lab for this case?”
“That wasn’t my choice. I–”
“Wasn’t your choice? You’re the chief coroner. You’re the one who examined the remains, took the samples, and signed them over to be tested. Weren’t you?” Sydney spotted a glint of anger in his eyes. It lingered there, despite the smile he plastered on his face.
“Of course. As the chief coroner I am responsible for those things. I misspoke. I made the choice.”
“But it wasn’t fully your decision?” Sydney pressed. “You’re a man of integrity, Dr. Jengal. I know you are. But if there’s something amiss on this report, you have to tell me.”
“I confirmed everything written on that report, Ms. Allen.”
“Confirmed? Interesting choice of words, Dr. Jengal.” Sydney tapped her desk. “One other question. Consider it a hypothetical. When a coroner examines the remains of a body, he signs off on it on the report, correct?”
Dr. Jengal removed his glasses and began cleaning them. “That is correct, Ms. Allen.”
“Then am I correct in assuming that two coroners examined this body?” Sydney slipped a page from her desk and showed it to him. “There are two redacted signatures here. I’m assuming one is yours, but whose is this other signature?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Ms. Allen. It’s redacted for a reason.”
“I see.”
Dr. Jengal gave her a strange look. “I’ll take my leave now. I have a lot of work to do. Paperwork, mostly.”
“Mm,” Sydney murmured.
“My biggest headaches come from insurance companies. They’ve got so many rules and restrictions these days. It’s almost easier to deal with the government than it is with insurance companies.” He gave her another strange look, then nodded. “Goodbye, Ms. Allen.”
Sydney watched him leave, the wheels turning in her head. “Odd subject for small talk.” She returned to her desk and pulled out a file from her drawer. Dr. Jengal had a reputation for being blunt, even arrogant, so the carefulness of his words struck her as strange.
Something was definitely amiss. She turned her attention to the full autopsy report, poring over each section carefully, but nothing else popped out at her. She began pulling more files, including the initial accident reports and her subsequent interviews with the victims’ families. Something niggled at the back of her mind. She was missing something.
She read through the transcripts for the family interviews. The pilot had an elderly mother. The copilot had a wife and two daughters. Both had been distraught and overwhelmed by the news, but she’d found the wife’s interview the most compelling and had used quotes for one of her follow up stories. One line in particular gave Sydney pause.
COPILOT’S WIFE: The day it happened, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure how we’d survive without my husband. I didn’t even know how I was going to tell our girls. I was so overwhelmed. But someone came by from the insurance company the very next day. He offered his condolences and gave us a check. I just had to sign a few papers, and it was done.
SYDNEY: The very next day, you say?
COPILOT’S WIFE: Yeah. I was in shock the whole time, I think. I haven’t even deposited it yet.
SYDNEY: I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. But tell me more about this check? They offered you a settlement the day after the accident? Before any of the official reports came out? And you signed the paperwork without a lawyer present?
COPILOT’S WIFE: Is that bad? Should I have waited?
SYDNEY: Do you have the check close by? Could I take a look at it?
COPILOT’S WIFE: Sure, just a sec. Here it is.
SYDNEY: This is a check for three million dollars.
COPILOT’S WIFE: Is something wrong?
SYDNEY: Payouts are usually much smaller.
COPILOT’S WIFE: How much smaller?
SYDNEY: The highest I’ve seen is $300,000 and that’s when fault is proven.
Sydney looked up from the transcript. The high payout had struck her as odd at the time, even questionable. But with the victims’ families well compensated, it didn’t seem worth pursuing. With Dr. Jengal’s words still echoing in her head, it seemed worth pursuing now.
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