Grissom's nightmare
One popular theory about nightmares is that they represent acts you have committed that you deeply regret, that you would give anything to change. As with any psychological hypothesis, it has neither been confirmed or disproved.
Grissom became a true believer after the investigation into the death of Faye Green. It had been eight years, and still he found himself haunted my the memories of what happened, what he had been forced to do.
I was just about to accompany the arresting officers with the suspect, Jason Hendler, who predictably was still protesting his innocence:
"I can prove I was in Reno when Faye disappeared, I've got records. Huh, you don't wanna talk, fine. But I gotta question for you, why do you care so much about the floors, huh? I mean Amy paints them every spring, it's no big deal."
Dam! In a chauvinistic rush to judgement, we had only been focusing on the one suspect- there was another who knew Faye, who was involved with Jason when Faye disappeared.
Who was now alone with Nickā¦.
Sometimes I wish I was wrong. As I came in I heard Nick-
"Ms. Hendler, I'm a good listener. You gotta give me the gun Ms-"
"I can't! I'm sorry."
"But-"
"You arrested my husband!"
"Wait!"
They were both scared, and one had a gun. Not a great situation. For the first time ever, I drew my weapon and pointed it at her.
"Mrs. Hendler?" She turned and pointed her gun at me, "Please don't move. Please, I don't wanna fire my gun anymore then you do." I really didn't want to fire. I hated my gun, hated the fact that I had to carry one. Pull a trigger and someone dies. It's wrong. I tried reason.
"For five years, you've been washing the blood off of your hands. Let's put down the gun."
I lowered mine in a gesture of peace, and she was reciprocating. I felt confident enough to hold my gun by my side and take a step towards her when she pointed her gun straight at me. She was sobbing hysterically, and she had a gun. I knew what was coming.
"I'm sorry" she said. Her last two words. I was already crouching when she fired. The bullet flew high and to the right of my head. I still contemplate how lucky I was that she wasn't trained with firearms, if she had she would have aimed for the body. Her lack of knowledge was also demonstrated when she turned towards Nick, who was already diving for cover, without taking me down first. As she was facing Nick, I fired two shots at her back. One hit near the shoulder, one at the center of her spine- that was the killing shot, straight through the heart. I wish I hadn't fired that one. Yes, she had killed and perhaps she would have killed my CSI and colleague. But she was scared and didn't deserve to die. I had fired my first and hopefully last shots and killed someone.
I was cleared by Internal Affairs surprisingly quickly- classic self-defence shooting. Still didn't make me feel any better. When you kill someone, you become a different person. Your beliefs, your character, your relationships, all become irrelevant when stacked up against the one irreparable act of murder.
At least once a week the sound of gunshots would jolt Grissom awake. Even after counselling, conversations with friends and a great deal of soul searching he had never forgiven himself for what he had done. Maybe he would one day, maybe the nightmare's would end. But for now, the name of Amy Hendler would not be one to be forgotten.
