Chapter 2
Sara walked into the break room of the LVPD Crime Lab. She was about to pull a double shift, and Grissom had just given her a new assignment. She saw a woman crouched down, looking for something in the fridge.
"Catherine Willows?"
The reddish-haired woman turned around to see who was calling out to her.
"Yes, that's me," she said.
"I'm Sara Sidle; Grissom assigned me to work with you,"
"Oh, hi there. You're Grissom's friend from San Francisco, right?" Catherine asked.
"Yes. Uh, how come everyone already seems to know who I am?"
"He talks about you sometimes," she answered, shrugging, "He's called you on a couple of cases we worked together, since until now, we haven't had anyone specializing in materials and elements analysis on our team."
"Oh, okay then," Sara said.
"By the way, have you found a car yet? I'm trying to sell my ex-husband's, and Nick told me you were looking for one." Catherine answered.
Sara tried to hide her embarrassment and tried to figure out why she'd suddenly become the subject of so much discussion.
"Uh, actually, I'm kind of looking to lease," she answered.
"Oh, I see. Well, my offer still stands if you change your mind. Anyways, we'd better get to that crime scene, I suppose."
XXX
The victim was a 5 year old girl. At first blush, there was no evident cause of death; the little girl had apparently died peacefully in her sleep. Captain Jim Brass had informed them that the victim's name was Katrina Daniels and that had gone to bed a little after 8 pm the night before; her mother had found her at 7 that morning when she couldn't wake her to go to school. There was no evidence of forced entry in the girl's bedroom. The windows were still closed and locked. Everything pointed that the killer was part of the household. Once the assistant coroner, David, had given them permission, they began processing the scene.
Sara collected fiber samples from the sheets, the comforter, and the pillow; in short, anything that could have been used to smother the girl. Catherine took multiple photographs from various angles.
"There are several punctures in her arms. They look like they could've been made by an IV," Catherine observed.
"Maybe she was in the hospital recently. Maybe she had a pre-existing condition. The tux screen will give us more information," Sara stated.
Catherine picked up a toy car she had found under the bed.
"Hey Jim, do you know if they have another child?" she asked.
"Yes, they have a son. He's five years old," Jim answered.
"That's interesting," Sara remarked.
Not wanting to prematurely eliminate the possibility that someone had gained access to the house and killed the young girl, Catherine and Sara dusted for prints and used the electrostatic dust print lifter in the event that the killer had left any footprints.
"I'm not finding any shoe impressions, Catherine,"
"Well, I'm lifting a ton of prints. I'll have to get them to Mandy, but they'll probably all come back to family members. I'm becoming more and more certain that someone in this house killed her," she replied.
Sara nodded. Something about this case made her skin crawl.
XXX
Albert "Doc" Robbins greeted the two women
"Patchily hemorrhaging indicates some kind of suffocation. Probably smothering, since I found several fibers in her nasal cavity," he explained.
"I'll see if I can match them to any of the fibers I lifted," Sara said.
"What about these needle marks in her arms? I doubt she was a junkie."
"That is a very good question, Catherine. Tux is still pending, but as far as I can tell, they're from an IV," Doc replied.
"We'll have to subpoena her medical records,"
"That's a good idea. She has multiple fractures of the ulna and the tibia, at various stages of healing. She also has what appear to be burn marks on her left forearm. They're pretty recent," Doc explained.
The two women thanked Doc Robbins and walked out of the morgue.
"Sounds like more than a kid roughhousing to me," Sara observed.
"Are you thinking child abuse?" Catherine asked.
"That's what it looks like. I think we should talk to the father after we see the medical records."
XXX
It took longer than expected to retrieve the medical records. The girl had been seen by many doctors and had been admitted to a few different emergency rooms during her brief life.
"3 months old, she gets rushed to the hospital because she supposedly nearly choked on a piece of chicken she evidently picked up off the floor when she was crawling. At around 6 months, she goes to the hospital with a dislocated shoulder. 18 months, she breaks her leg when she falls down the stairs. 3 years old, she almost drowns in the pool. Counting the 25 or so times she's been admitted to the hospital with vomiting, seizures and blackouts, she's been to the hospital approximately 40 times," Sara read out loud, incredulous.
"It says here that doctors were trying to find a diagnosis, but every time they thought they'd found out what it was, a new symptom presented itself and they had to start from scratch," Catherine added.
"How could they let this go on for so long?" Sara asked.
Catherine shrugged her shoulders.
"Lack of communication between medical specialists and incomplete medical records. They went to see a new doctor every 6 months or so, claiming it was taking too long to find a diagnosis elsewhere," she answered.
"Let's go have that chat with daddy now," Sara suggested, scowling.
XXX
"Mr. Daniels, where were you the day that your daughter almost choked to death on a piece of chicken?" Sara asked.
"I was at home, watching TV," he answered.
"And when she almost drowned in the pool?"
"I was upstairs, taking a nap. My wife was in the kitchen, cooking, and Katrina managed to open the sliding glass door and fell into the pool."
"You know, your alibis are awfully convenient. The only person who can verify them is your wife," Sara stated.
"Watch your tone. My client came here voluntarily to help find his daughter's killer, not to be harassed," Mr. Daniels' lawyer interjected.
"Sir, do you have any idea what might have been causing your daughter's illness?" Catherine asked.
"No, it was weird. It almost happened like clockwork; she'd be fine, and then a few weeks later she'd be nearly dying. I wish we'd found out sooner; maybe she'd still be alive," he answered, tearing up.
Sara observed him silently. His grief seemed sincere; she didn't think he'd done it.
"What about your son, Ryan? Has he had any medical issues at all?" she asked.
"No, he's a healthy boy, thankfully," he answered.
The two ladies thanked him for his cooperation and told him he was free to go for the time being.
"I don't think he did it. If the girl was being drugged, or poisoned, that would be indicative of a woman. There's one thing I can't shake though; something about this case sounds vaguely familiar," said Sara.
"I don't think he did it either. His grief was genuine," Catherine answered.
"What do you think? Time to talk to the mother?"
"Oh, yeah."
XXX
"You are either the luckiest mother ever, or the unluckiest, Mrs Daniels," Sara began.
"I'm sorry, I just lost my daughter. I'm not in the mood for jokes," the mother replied.
"That wasn't a joke, it was a statement. Your daughter has been through a lot. In fact, she's been hospitalized more times in the first four years of her life than most people are in their lifetime," Sara replied.
"She had a sickly disposition. Look, I came here to get my husband. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated. If you have any more questions, you can contact my attorney," the mother said.
The woman got up and left, slamming the door. Catherine snorted.
"Think she's hiding something?"
"Evidently. She couldn't act guiltier if she tried," Sara replied.
She shook her head and scowled.
"It's like I've heard about it before. I'm going to do a bit of research," Sara said, getting up and leaving the room.
"I'll go get that tox report," Catherine said.
XXX
Sara woke up and lifted her head from the textbook she had been reading. She checked her watch. Grissom was standing in front of her; he was holding out a cup of coffee for her to take.
"Thanks," she said, taking it.
"It's Greg's special blue Hawaiian coffee. Expensive stuff, but it's worth it," Grissom informed her.
"Mhm. It tastes great. Does Greg know that you found his stash?" Sara asked.
"How long have you been here?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Uh, what time is it?"
"6 am."
Sara winced.
"Do I have to answer?"
He shrugged.
"Preferably."
"Uh, I've been here about 8 hours."
"Go home, get some sleep. You can wrap up this case next shift, Sara," he said.
"I'm closing in on the mother; my research is almost over. I'll be done in a couple of hours," she promised.
He grabbed a newspaper that someone had left on the table and began reading it.
"Just out of curiosity, what are you looking for?" he asked a few minutes later, not lifting his eyes from the article he was reading.
"Old child abuse cases. The victim has been hospitalized over 40 times, and she's had more fractures and near-death instances than I care to elaborate on," she replied.
He put down the newspaper and took off his glasses; he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed lost in thought for a moment.
"It sounds like a textbook case of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. The parent, usually the mother, likes getting attention from medical professionals, so he or she invents or creates all sorts of scenarios where the child is injured or made out to be ill. It's fairly rare, but cases are well documented," he stated matter-of-factly.
Sara stared at him dumbfounded. If he was right, he'd just saved her hours of work.
"Uh…How did you…never mind. I'm not even going to ask." She said, shaking her head.
Grissom shrugged and said: "I memorized the DSM-IV when it came out."
Sara's eyes widened, then her face turned into a scowl.
"You memorized the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders in 1994? Why?"
"For fun," Grissom said, "It's fascinating."
"Er…okay then. I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Sara replied.
Grissom smiled and got ready to leave.
"Wait! I uh…don't know where any of the books are. They're kind of stocked haphazardly," Sara called out.
"I supposed I could have organized the books a bit better. I think the DSM-IV is on the top shelf of the library in my office," he replied.
"Oh, alright then. I'll go get it in a few minutes, if that's okay with you,"
"Sure, go ahead. Look up 'Factitious Disorder by Proxy',"
"Okay, thanks for the tip. I'll bring you my report as soon as the case is solved," she said.
XXX
Sara found the well-thumbed copy of the DSM-IV in Grissom's office and found what she was looking for. The case she was working on was in fact, a case of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, just as Grissom had thought. She put down the book and took a deep breath. She finally realized why the details of this case seemed so familiar. She'd read about a fairly recent case in Florida concerning an 8 year old girl who had undergone over 4 surgeries and had been hospitalized over 200 times. Sara felt sick to her stomach. She went to go find Catherine.
"Hey, I have that tox report," Catherine stated.
"Good, good; anything unusual?" Sara asked.
"Yes. Ricin. More than enough to kill a girl her size. There were also traces of cyclizine."
"Well, cyclizine is a post-operative antiemetic; it could have been administered to stop the girl from throwing up the poison."
"But how would the parents have access to cyclizine?" Catherine asked.
"The hospital. It's possible that one or both of the parents could have gained access to the drug while their daughter was being treated."
"My money's on the mother."
Sara nodded in agreement.
"Let's go nail her," Catherine stated.
XXX
"Hello again, Mrs Daniels. We think we've finally figured out what happened to your daughter," Sara affirmed.
"I already told you, she died from her undiagnosed illness," the mother replied.
"No, she did not. In fact, there was nothing wrong with your daughter. She showed no sign of disease. Our coroner determined that she died because someone suffocated her with her pillow," Catherine said.
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Really? I think you know everything about that, and then some," said Sara. "Let me explain to you how I think it played out. While you were pregnant with your daughter, you enjoyed the attention you were getting from medical specialists. When your daughter was born, that feeling was reinforced by your friends and family. However, the novelty wore off after a few weeks, didn't it? You missed the attention. I'm guessing that's when your daughter started getting a lot of, uh, accidents. You know, like when she choked on the chicken, or when she nearly drowned in the pool. How am I doing so far?"
"Interesting story. Too bad it's fiction. My daughter was highly accident-prone, that's all," the mother replied.
"She was also very sickly, apparently. She was hospitalized almost constantly," Sara said.
"Unfortunate? Yes. Criminal? No."
"Ms. Sidle, I highly advise you to guard your tone. My client didn't come here to be harassed," the lawyer warned.
"Fine; but your client is wrong. Child abuse is criminal. So is murder." Sara stated. "I think I'd better finish that story now. A couple of days ago, you were going to try for another 'accident'. I'm not entirely sure what you were planning on saying to cover it up this time, but I do know how you intended to get her hospitalized. You smothered her with a pillow. You misjudged how long you needed to hold the pillow over her face. You held it down too long, and she died."
The mother started clapping smugly.
"Mrs. Daniels, please, refrain from making this harder than it already is," her lawyer pleaded.
She waved off her attorney.
"Bravo. You've figured it out. Can you prove it?" she asked.
"I can prove that you suffered from Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. No jury in the world is going to be able to overlook the similarities between this case and documented cases of the syndrome," Catherine interjected.
"Evidently, this means you can plead insanity. Most likely, you'll be committed to a psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life. Do you have any questions?" Sara asked.
"Nope."
Her lawyer shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.
Mrs. Daniels held out her hands, ready for the officer to handcuff her and bring her to booking.
On the other side of the two-way mirror, a very distraught Mr. Daniels stared in disbelief at his wife.
Sara and Catherine quietly waited for the room to be empty.
"You know it's bad when it doesn't even surprise you anymore," Catherine sighed.
Sara looked at her, perplexed.
"I guess I'm just not at that stage yet," she replied, getting up and leaving the interrogation room.
XXX
Grissom came into the locker room to grab his jacket and his car keys before heading home. He saw Sara sitting on the bench in front of her locker, reading a textbook that she'd presumably found while rummaging through his office.
"I thought you and Catherine had closed your case. Why are you still here?" he asked her.
She jumped up, startled.
"Oh, uh, yeah, we did close the case; my report's on your desk. I was, um…re-organizing the textbooks, and this one caught my eye," she answered sheepishly.
"You look tired," he said.
"Yeah, well, I just pulled a double shift," she replied, smiling weakly.
Grissom nodded, but didn't seem convinced.
"I haven't been sleeping well. I'm still getting used to the graveyard shift, that's all," she added.
"I see. Well, I'm going to head out now. I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest,"
"I will."
Sara closed the book, took her bag out of her locker and headed to the parking lot.