His wife answered. I asked for him, and she said he wasn’t home, could she take a message?
I didn’t know how to leave the message I had in mind, so I simply hung up and started crying. I didn’t know anyone else in the area and couldn’t think of what to do next. I was sitting there wondering what to do when my cell phone rang a few minutes later.
I answered the phone, and it was Bob’s friend I had tried to call—his wife had pulled my number off the caller ID and passed it along to him. I guess he was used to getting random calls from people for business because he said, “What can I do for you?”
I took a deep breath to calm myself and spilled out my story—how I had driven down to the coast to kill myself and had changed my mind. I talked quickly and in a monotone—the disease was starting to affect my thought and speech patterns in a severe way. I told him where was and how I had gotten there.
I can’t imagine what he must have felt hearing this woman he barely knew telling him this story. He finally interrupted me and said, “What do you need me to do?”
I said, “I need you to come get this gun away from me.”
He said, “All right. I can do that.” Then he hung up.
I’m not clear on what exactly happened after that. Bob says that his friend called the office and let them know he had heard from me and that he was calling the police. I believe Bob then contacted the Brandon Police with the information, who then called the Covington officials to coordinate what was to be done. Bob says the first plan was for the police to find me and release me to his friend’s custody. Then Bob could come and get me and get me home.
All I knew was that help was on the way.