AN: As 2020 winds down, I've managed to produce another episode tag for TATM, season two amongst a heap of upheaval and drama in RL. Writing was extremely difficult, but it gave me an escape. This is a bit of a departure from most of my usual TATM tags. Tom Morrow has featured in all tags so far until this tag – his influence takes place off screen. This one is very dialogue- driven and is also a bit different in style to my usual tags – you'll see what I mean.
In contrast to my usual ten drafts and weeks of angst before finally posting it, I'm uploading the story after just 3 drafts and 4 days of procrastinating anguishing. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm finally getting my perfectionism tamed, but the truth is probably more in line with my current level of exhaustion, combined with no time has left me not caring about all the inevitable boo boos.
Special mention to Arress for her eagle eye and observations about this episode patiently waiting for me to get around to writing this tag. Which I did! Finally! Yay! I hope that you enjoy # 4 – only another 19 more to go!
Series: There's Always Tom Morrow (season two)
Episode: Lieutenant Jane Doe
Title: May Your Big Jib Drawl
Characters: Dr Donald Mallard, Jane Doe, Hubert Cross (OC), honourable mentions for Tom Morrow and Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Word Count: 11, 249
Beta'ed: No, so my commas probably need the odd wrangle or three but here it is anyway FWIW.
Dr Donald Mallard walked purposefully across the manicured lawns of the Forest Lawn Cemetery in Norfolk, Virginia. After consulting the map that his young assistant, Jimmy Palmer, had found it on the internet and printed off for him The NCIS medical examiner headed in the direction of the Grecian Garden. Although he and Jimmy often became disorientated on the way to a crime scene, Donald had studied the map carefully, plotting out an itinerary of locations he wished to see.
Dr Mallard, Ducky to his friends, strode surefootedly across the ground for a man in his sixties. He was clutching a handmade wooded box which he'd commissioned a local Virginian artisan, Jacob Goodfellow to make containing the cremains of Lieutenant Jane Doe, date of death: 12th October 1994, as he surveyed the garden admiringly. Sighting a stone bench, he headed towards in, laying his burden down reverentially beside him as he sat down, contemplating his surroundings intently.
Reminding himself of his mission as he glanced around the garden, he sighed with uncharacteristic melancholia. In general, Ducky was a man who chose to view the world with the awe and enthusiasm of a child. This was despite encountering daily examples of criminals subjecting their fellow humans and sentient creatures to sordid and monstrous depravities, often for trivial petty personal agendas. He'd made a conscious attempt to counter such dark evil by deliberately adopting a 'glass-half-full' philosophy to get him through life.
Taking a deep breath, the forensic pathologist began to speak calmly, although to a casual observer it appeared that he was alone. "Well my dear, I felt it was only fair to apprise you of the outcome of our last case which we wrapped up on Friday since it was connected to your death a decade ago."
Looking somewhat abashed, the preeminent NCIS forensic pathologist ducked his head slightly. "I know that I have been remiss in keeping you abreast of what has been going on lately. Somehow, we never seem to find the time to converse very often anymore and yes," he said, raising a hand as if to pre-empt what she might want to say, "I do realise that the fault lies wholly with myself."
Shrugging wryly, he continued, "Somehow, cases keep on mounting up, particularly the paperwork, which seems never-ending. The devil is most definitely in the details, Miss Jane. A poorly worded autopsy report, a sloppy collection of trace evidence or a badly chosen response to a question whilst testifying in court can, unfortunately, result in a monster getting away with heinous crimes. As you know better than anyone, victims need to have closure, my dear and it is my job to help make that happen."
Ducky stared pensively at the Grecian urn which was situated near a massed planting of blue delphiniums as he chose his words carefully. "I know that you've been waiting for what must feel like an eternity for justice, Jane so I want you to know that we've finally identified the brute who killed you. He was a machinists mate stationed at Norfolk Naval Base, discharged two months before he attacked you and..." he paused, shaking his head. "But I suppose that I really should start at the beginning of how we managed to figure that out. You deserve to know all the details."
"The case begins with two navy seaman, Joe Wilkins and Tom Jennings who wereserving aboard the Abraham Lincoln and it had just docked at Norfolk. Our young sailors were on leave, hurrying to catch up with their girlfriends after spending many months deployed at sea and were heading off-base when one of these libidinous young men needed to go to the bathroom.
"The driver of the pickup truck…I'm sorry Jane, but I'm not sure which seaman was driving the truck… pulled into a recreational area on-base to use the restroom. However, unfortunately, the restrooms are locked as it was quite late, so he decided to relieve himself up against a tree near a set of bleachers. As the seaman turned away from a tree, he spotted a woman's body on the ground. It must have startled him quite thoroughly, I'm sure," he said in all seriousness.
Ducky, normally an ebullient person, sighed moodily as he gazed at a marble figurine of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of beauty, love, and desire. He hoped that his Jane Doe had experienced love during her all too brief life before it had been callously snuffed out by the monster as he'd raped and murdered the poor young woman. How he wished that the misogynist fiend had been forced to face justice for killing Jane, the young woman who'd been in his care for all this time. While it was cold comfort to the doctor, at least Harlen Wilson was incarcerated in Canada for one of his crimes.
Continuing to tell his complicated tale, he resumed speaking softly. "Our valiant and by this stage rather needy sailors flagged down the attractive and extremely eager young Petty Officer called Cynthia Cluxton, to report finding the body of a partially clad navy lieutenant. PO Cluxton was the Master at Arms who was on security patrol that night, most conveniently as it turned out. The petty officer informed Agent Gibbs and the team that she'd been quite busy by the time they'd arrived on the base. She'd painstakingly preserved the crime scene and searched the victim for ID."
Ducky clucked disapprovingly, "While young Agent Todd was suitably impressed, Jethro was not! When he learnt that she'd handled the body even though she told him she was wearing gloves he was furious. I believed I've mentioned his legendary impatience with incompetent individuals on other occasions, so you can imagine his irritation at such a rookie mistake, especially by the Master at Arms.
"That particularly egregious breach of forensics protocols should have immediately been a red flag, along with her intense interest in the forensic side of the investigation," Ducky grumbled before sighing before he resumed reporting on what had happened.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, I fear. The petty officer also took it upon herself to interview our young sailor, that did not endear her to Special Agent Gibbs who promptly had Special Agent DiNozzo reinterview them. McGee recognised our young Master-at Arms – it turned out that they'd worked together in Norfolk.
He paused, frowning as if listening to a remark, unheard by anyone else who might have been loitering, listening to the medical examiner telling his story.
"That's an excellent point, my dear. I have spent so long working with NCIS that I forget that a civilian might not be familiar with all the military jargon. A Master at Arms is the navy's security and force protection professions. In other words, they are part of the military police force, both on land and at sea. They are security specialists who carry out anti-terrorism, force protection, physical security, and law enforcement duties on land and at sea.
"A Master at Arms' duties may include: managing base access, conducting base security patrols, law enforcement operation, performing security inspections, conduct K-9 explosive and narcotics detection missions, organise and train security personnel, operate Navy jails known as brigs, and conduct investigations and crime prevention programs. So, a murder investigation would not be her purview, that would immediately fall within NCIS jurisdiction." He chuckled briefly.
"Yes, quite right, Miss Jane. It's clear that with her MP training, she knew that NCIS would be handling the investigation into what, at first glance, appeared to be rape and murder. She most certainly knew that she had no business disturbing the body, not for ID on the poor victim, not for any reason. That alone should have set alarm bells rings for sure, despite her earnest eager to-learn mien."
Shaking his head in disgust, Ducky continued to vent his spleen to Jane, "With the benefit of hindsight, it's clear that PO Cluxton did so in case I found trace evidence leading back to her. That way, she could argue that the transfer of evidence occurred whilst she was at the crime scene, searching the body."
Ducky was deeply disappointed in himself that it hadn't occurred to him at the time, but she seemed so young and winsome…and innocent. He hated to admit it, but it hadn't occurred to him to suspect a female had killed Janice Santos – mostly because the scene was staged to replicate Lieutenant Jane Doe's crime scene. No doubt Caitlin would be quick to label him a chauvinist and he supposed that was a fair cop, but then again, their resident profiler hadn't considered their killer might be a female either.
Shaking his head, he returned to his quasi-chronological account. "So, Mr Palmer and I arrived at the scene. Excited about my upcoming jaunt to England, I was regaling the team about the origin of the Society of Medical Examiners who were meeting in London. I had every intention of attending that assemblage just as soon as I collected the poor young Lieutenant's body and returned with her to DC.
"At that point I was explaining to the team that our esteemed society was founded by none other than the original renaissance man, Leonardo DaVinci in the same year he commenced painting the famed Mona Lisa. Of course, Jethro swiftly interrupted my little oration, quite rightly reminding me of why we were there," he chuckled wryly. "You know my propensity to become distracted when I am nattering about a particularly fascinating topic, my dear child," he admitted truthfully.
"Anyway, I began my examination of the body, noting the bruising on the poor woman's neck, most likely from being strangled. My subsequent examination back in the lab confirmed this initial diagnosis, by the way. Also, she had bruises on her legs, her panties pulled down to her knees. This was highly suggestive of a rape taking place. However, it was impossible to confirm the cause of death or sexual assault without an autopsy. All I could do was state my first impressions suggested she'd been raped and strangled and give an approximate time of death.
Ducky thought about how the cause of death had deliberately replicated Lieutenant Jane Doe's murder. He hated being played for a fool and by a chit of a girl, too. He shook his head, knowing that they might have acted like marionettes dancing to her tune as she pulled everyone's strings, damn the bloody conniving petty officer but the MCRT had the final laugh, thank goodness.
Taking a deep breath as he regained his usual optimistic outlook, he continued his story.
"Agent DiNozzo, after interviewing the two sailors who had found the poor unfortunate young woman's body, asked Jethro if he could release them as they had not seen their lady loves in over six months. Actually," Ducky chuckled roguishly, "I believe it was six months, three weeks and eighteen hours and Anthony was suitably appalled by their enforced celibacy in the service of their country. He then overshared with Caitlin, telling her the longest he had gone without having intimate relations.
"Needless to say, she was none too impressed," he chuckled briefly. "I find it rather, Miss Jane that a profiler, who Agent Todd professes to be, could be so obtuse. She can't seem to comprehend that DiNozzo loves to pull her leg or as I believe you Americans would say, to yank her chain."
"Yes well… I do digress. So, I finished up my examination and gave Special Agent Gibbs a rough estimation of the time of death, all the while, blithely preparing to depart the scene to catch my flight to London. At that point, I was still blissfully unaware that it was anything other than a vicious and tragic killing. Sadly, it was not exactly an uncommon occurrence and to be honest, I was still inwardly chortling over getting to go to the Medical Examiner's Conference rather than my stand-in, Dr Gutamon.
"Meanwhile, Gibbs had been searching the young lady's clothing for identification with my grudging blessing since the body had already been disturbed," Ducky said, not even trying to disguise his indignation about the massive breach of procedure. It was one of his chief provocations during his long and mostly illustrious career as a medical examiner. It really shouldn't be that hard for dim-witted law-enforcement personnel to understand – don't touch the deceased until after the ME has said you could. It wasn't rocket science but, in this case, he could understand why the Master at Arms had done so – she was covering her tracks.
"Anyway," he sighed, acknowledging the futility of pursuing these emotions at the moment, he continued, "Then Jethro stood up and announced that there was no ID. He told me that we had Lieutenant Jane Doe."
Ducky breathed deeply, remembering how that had been like someone had doused him in freezing-cold water when he wasn't expecting it. "Abruptly, I felt a frisson of dread - like someone had walked over my grave as they say. I immediately thought back to how your killer had sworn in his note to return. I returned to the victim's body, checking that no-one was paying me any heed, and swiftly checked the left side of the dead woman's neck, up near her ear. And there it was my dear… a trident which appeared to be a spookily exact replica of the one I found on your body.
"I was dismayed of course but on the other hand, Jane, I'd hoped that this time we'd get a chance to get the better of him. Plus, once we had him in custody, I hoped that Jethro, with his unique interrogation style, might be able to convince the deviant to shed light on your identity, Jane.
"I informed Mr Palmer that as soon as Jethro's team had finished processing the scene, we should get the Lieutenant back to the morgue immediately. I left before anyone could question me, an action that the director, Thomas Morrow was quick to take me to task about after we'd closed the case. And rightly so; if I'd shared my suspicions that it may be the second in a series of killings, we could have set up surveillance to see if the killer would leave another note.
"It was highly unprofessionally of me and really, I have no excuse," Ducky said remorsefully. "I told Jethro it was because I didn't want to go off half-cocked but if I am brutally honest, I didn't want it to be your killer returning, Jane and have history repeat itself. However, my closeness to the case could have easily jeopardised our efforts to identify your killer and finding poor Miss Janice Santos' killer too.
"While a case could be made that being a Master at Arms, PO Cluxton automatically would have been privy to the surveillance operation and therefore she wouldn't have left the note, it may not necessarily have played out that way. Jethro is such a paranoid personality that sometimes his left-hand doesn't know what his right one is up to, so it is entirely feasible that he might have ordered his agents to carry out surveillance without informing the petty officer. The tragic thing is that we'll never know."
Deciding to continue with his pleasant wander, particularly the Crepe Myrtle Lawn and some of the other areas in the arboretum, Mallard rose sprightly, scooping up his precious burden. Strolling briskly in a westerly direction. Ducky resumed his musing as he walked.
"Well, as I have often said my dear, there are some legitimate reasons why we're supposed to recuse ourselves when we're too close to a case to maintain sufficient objectivity. Director Morrow and Jethro were both at great pains to remind me of that protocol after the investigation. Of course, Thomas had a clear moral advantage over Gibbs, since the director has never overstepped the mark to my knowledge in terms over being involved in cases that he'd had a personal or a vested interest in. Jethro on the other hand, was a clear case of the kettle rushing in to accuse the pot of being black since he quite frequently allows his emotions and his personal life to interfere with investigations."
"Ducky shook his head, stoically, knowing that Gibbs could break rules with impunity – for whatever reason he was untouchable. There were rules for everyone else and when it suited, no rules for the former Marine.
"Ah well, I digress. We could put it down to my advancing years, but as you can bear witness, I've always been something of a raconteur," he joked self-deprecatingly.
"Anyway, I believe we were discussing how your killer was identified a decade after you were violated and murdered." He said pensively. "After I found that bloody trident, I just knew that I had to go back and perform an autopsy on the newest Lieutenant Jane Doe. The Society of Medical Examiners conference be damned – this had my complete and undivided attention. I was determined not to let you down a second time, my dear child."
Ducky looked momentarily chagrined, realising that he'd inadvertently used profanity. "Please accept my sincere apology for the use of such uncouth, boorish language, Miss Jane. Yes, I know compared to the foul language that passes for common speech in the new millennium, you'll probably regard me as rather a quaint old fossil," he said self-deprecatingly.
"However, I was brought up by a gentlewoman who taught me not to use foul language in the company of ladies, and for my sins, I'm a product of that upbringing. Victoria would want to tan my hide or wash my mouth out with soap if she heard me," he said remorsefully. "Maybe both!"
"So, I made haste back to my domain at the Navy Yards in DC, making excellent time so I could begin my examination of the newest victim immediately. I'm afraid I was extremely short-tempered with young Mr Palmer when he stepped out of the locker room, only to find that I was already well on the way to completing the autopsy. When he expressed surprise that it was I who was doing the examination and not my replacement, I fobbed him off, not willing to show my hand yet.
"I told him that I intended to catch a later flight. Of course, if I was convinced that the killer was the same monster who had defiled and murdered you, obviously I had no intention of leaving the case to anyone else. Still, at that point, I was holding my cards close to the chest. I suppose it was a sort of superstition. If I didn't speak my fears out loud then they wouldn't be happening."
Chuckling sardonically, he said, "Who'd have believed that a man of science would be so quick to fall into childishly magical thinking like that? If you'd told me I would do something so irrational and irresponsible, I'd have laughed at you and said you were deluded at the very least."
Ducky knew that there was no time to be wallowing in his guilt, this was not about him – it was about giving Jane closure. Sighing fatalistically, he picked up the story. "I'm afraid I was quite short with my young assistant, poor Mr Palmer. When he made the rather obvious statement that I'd started without him, looking like a wounded puppy, I fear that I rather bit his head off. I told him that he was my assistant as opposed to the other way around and that it was my prerogative to start without him. I was so cranky with him that I refused to let him assist me."
Frowning Ducky acknowledged. "Yes, I know I acted churlishly and although I apologised to him later, I do need to make amends. Perhaps I'll invite him around to partake of one our Sunday baked dinners, although I'm not sure if James might consider dealing with the formidable Victoria Mallard to be more punishment than a peace offering.
"Then again, he might bond with Mother over those blasted corgis of hers. James was working with a veterinary surgeon prior to him joining us at NCIS, so he probably likes dogs. Of course, it's debatable if those pesky, yappy little, short-legged despots of Mother's qualify as an exemplar of man's best friend, though. I do so wish that Mother owned a bunch of steady easy-going Labradors or some curly-coated retrievers," he complained wistfully.
Returning to the case, he confessed, "Actually my dear it would be quite remiss of me if I didn't confess to you that my faithful assistant wasn't the only one to bear the brunt of my wrath. I'm afraid that I was also quite testy when I informed Abigail that I was sending Mr Palmer up with fingerprints, semen, and blood for her to analyse. I told her to be sure to sign the evidence exchange forms which I admit was highly insulting to impugn her professionalism like that as I certainly had no reason to doubt her. Yet I snarled at her – I told her that I'd check to make sure she did sign it, which was extremely rude of me.
"Abby told me that just as soon as she'd completed the explosive swab analysis she was working on for another case, that she'd be all over it. I was desperate to get the results, so churlishly, I yelled at her and told her to get all over it now and slammed the phone down before she could reply. Mr Palmer was staring at me, aghast by my behaviour, and rightly so, and then I yelled at the poor lad again for not taking the evidence straight to the forensic lab."
Ducky shook his head contritely. "I know, I know…I made a mess of things, didn't I? The director pointed out very emphatically some of my shortcomings on the case. For example, I chose to conduct the autopsy on my own. That was something I'd never done in all the time Mr Palmer has worked for me. That fact alone, coupled with my angry outburst could have so easily compromised the case. If Petty Officer Cluxton had chosen to go before her peers instead of deciding to plead guilty, a competent JAG might have gotten her off, due to my actions.
"The defence could have used my uncharacteristic behaviour re the autopsy, along with my mad dash back to Norfolk Naval Base to retrieve semen samples from your autopsy for comparison purposes with Janice Santos' autopsy. I failed to inform anyone what I was doing and that was highly irregular. Given my strong psychological need to find your killer they could say that there was a chance that I inadvertently tainted the evidence."
Agitated, Ducky looked around at the crepe myrtle trees mass planted to create an outdoor room as he took a calming deep breath. Thankfully, the lovely garden of trees helped to calm his tumultuous feelings.
Changing the topic, he remarked admiringly, "I'm sure this must be an incredibly beautiful area in the summertime when all of these crepe myrtles are in flower and yet even without flowers I've always thought that the trunks and branches of crepe myrtles to be quite lovely. Their outer bark is shed all year round revealing their creamy smoothness underneath. An idyllic place to spend eternity."
Ducky gazed around raptly, imagining the vista before him in mid to late summer when the myrtles would be a riot of crimsons, mauves, and fuchsias before giving himself a mental shake. "My apologies my dear, I fear I never explained why we've come here," he said, addressing the wooden urn. "As you know, you've been with me for ten years now. You are the only Jane Doe that I was never able to identify. The only one whose family has no closure. The only one who never went home.
"I've kept you with me in the hopes that someday, somehow, I could finally identify you and let your family know what happened to you. Sadly, with the death of former machinist mate Harlen Wilson, that hope has all but died too, I afraid," he said regretfully
"After much soul-searching, I've concluded that all these years, I might have been clutching at straws. It's also plausible that Wilson might never have known who you were either," Ducky pointed out, bowing his head in sorrow, his voice betraying how close he was to breaking down.
"There may have been nothing pre-meditated about choosing you to take out his rage on. He may have run into you purely by chance somewhere and impulsively decided to attack. It's equally plausible that you might not have had any family to miss you and to report you missing, which would explain why we could never identify you, despite our herculean efforts.
You may not even hail from the United States; you could have emigrated here or been a tourist and yet, I've steadfastly refused to consider any of those possibilities, until now."
Shaking his head at his short-sightedness, Ducky admitted remorsefully. "As Thomas Morrow pointed out to me so articulately, my hubris in not letting you go so you could find the peace you deserve, could very easily have led to Miss Santos killer getting away with murder. That would have been a shocking breach of the oaths I took as a medical examiner. Thomas was quite within his rights to keelhaul me for my failure to act in an appropriate manner."
"The director also had some extremely harsh words for Agent Gibbs for getting swept up in my crusade. He told him that he really should have made sure everyone working the Santos case caught up by thoroughly reading and reanalysing the previous case file (yours) from ten years ago rather than just plunging in impetuously. Which is a fair criticism, and it is standard operating procedure in this type of situation, rather than relying on my recall and impressions since time, if not personal feelings do indeed tend to colour our memories."
The ME paused a beat before conceding, "Even when they aren't the albatross around our neck variety."
Smiling a little grimly as he admitted that painful truth, he continued laying himself bare. "As Thomas rightly noted, if that had been done and had Jethro permitted more discussion and more collaboration amongst the team, there may well have been a speedier resolution to the case. Timothy would probably have learnt that Cynthia Cluxton's father was the NCIS agent in charge of your case.
"He already knew her father was an NCIS agent, just not the agent who led the case. If he'd known that and he'd shared that information with the team, it is quite conceivable the more experienced investigators would have found that situation to be much too implausible. They would have focused their attention on her immediately." Ducky frowned, they got lucky, but solving cases shouldn't depend on getting lucky.
"If they had been focused on the petty officer, it might have encouraged McGee to mention that PO Cluxton was not heterosexual. As it was, it was only Abby's jealousy that Timothy and the petty officer were a little too friendly which was the catalyst for him revealing her sexual orientation. If they'd known earlier, when Anthony and Caitlin discovery that Miss Santos was lesbian would probably have set alarm bells ringing loudly as to a possible motive for her death. As Gibbs is wont to remind everyone, there's no such thing as coincidence. Plus, Anthony, as a former cop is fond of pointing out, statistically a victim's partner or their ex-partner is the most likely suspect to murder them.
Ducky paused, as if hearing a conversation that no one else was privy to, his head canted ever so slightly to the right. He appeared to listen before he responded wryly. "Yes, I know in this case that we got there in the end, but that was only because Harlan Wilson was dead and had been for more than a month, so it was clear that he couldn't have killed her. That was pure good luck," He told Jane pensively.
"And as the director rightly pointed out, what if Wilson had still been alive? We would have arrested him, and he might have been convicted of both murders and I know you might feel that it would have served him right. However, Wilson's defence attorney would probably have argued that I'd tainted the evidence due to being too emotionally involved," and it would have been hard to dispute even if it wasn't true, the medical examiner admitted.
"That could have been enough to cause jurors to have reasonable doubt, not only about Miss Santos' murder but maybe yours as well. The other equally abhorrent scenario for me was if he'd been found guilty of both murders, Petty Officer Cluxton would have gotten away with murdering her former lover, which would have been just as much of a travesty too."
Ducky was silent for a long while as he contemplated how easily the case could have become a debacle, due to his failure to act professionally. It pained him to admit that it was more good luck than anything else that brought about such a good outcome in the end. He also didn't want to think too hard about the fact that his burning desire to solve Jane Doe's case had caused Anthony to break into the trailer where Harlen Wilson lived, even though he'd told Timothy that they wouldn't be able to use any evidence they found in court.
It clearly illustrated that letting someone work a crime that they were too invested in emotional and or professionally merely beget more lapses in protocols and that was why he should have recused himself and reported his suspicions to Gibbs immediately. He'd let everyone down and he was just inordinately lucky that they'd managed to solve both crimes even if Lieutenant Jane Doe remained unidentified. Steeling himself for this most difficult of conversations, he reminded himself that chickening out was not an option.
"It's time for our relationship to change, my dear," he told her gently but firmly. "I fear that it has become rather an unhealthy one, for both of us and that it's not in either of our best interests for you to remain with me at NCIS anymore. It's well beyond time to let you go so you can find peace in the afterlife, whatever that journey may be. It is also my sincere belief that the Forrest Lawn Cemetery is a place for you to begin that journey.
In case you were wondering about this place, it was established back in 1906 and it is the largest of Norfolk's eight municipal cemeteries. The first white settlers who owned the tract of land for multiple generations – the Langleys, had a family burial ground here with internments dating back to the 1700s.
"They tell me that the cemetery has more than 165 acres of land and that it is a natural arboretum containing over 70 species from around the world such as the impressive collection of crepe myrtles in this section where we are now," he looked around him appreciatively. "Not to mention, the dogwoods which are one of my all-time favourite autumnal species. Although many people feel their main attraction is the spectacular display of white or pink flowers which are in fact bracts that herald the arrival of spring," he informed her animatedly.
"They also have Chinese fringe trees here which are quite breathtaking when they are in bloom." Ducky was completely caught up in his enthusiasm and his eagerness to pass on his often-arcane knowledge. After all, wasn't very often that he had an opportunity to address such a captive audience as his charge, who proved to be a very accommodating companion over the years.
"Did you know that the Chinese fringe tree is dioecious – meaning that they have male and female plants," he enthused. "For the female plant to produce fruit, a male plant is required for pollination; coincidentally holly, another dioecious plant is also a feature here at Forest Lawn. Plus, they also have black walnut trees, and a quite impressive variety of oaks and maples which makes for a lovely tranquil place, my dear."
Taking a breath, he continued to share the knowledge he'd acquired with her. "In addition to the notable gardens and its collection of tree and shrub species, it boasts a wonderful example of Art Deco era memorial architecture in the community mausoleum which was designed by Sidney Lovell and they built it in 1919. I believe that Lovell was a Chicago architect who specialised in theatre design and according to my research, the mausoleum is an excellent example of his work. Its exterior facade and interior fittings consist of high-quality Alabama marble and inside there are ornately carved marble benches plus it features a Frank Lloyd Wright skylight. We'll visit it soon," Ducky said cheerily.
As he made his way across the Cedar lawn at a leisurely pace, the medical examiner would stop when a gravesite or a plant caught his interest and he would provide Jane with a running commentary of what took his fancy. This including the usual funerary art you'd expect to see in a cemetery. Mostly in this section of the cemetery, they were angelic symbols in bas relief or statuary but there was the odd depiction of Hermes, Mercury or even one or two depicting the Valkyries (female flying figures) and even a surprising appearance of Anubis, all who'd been depicted as guides taking of souls to the afterlife. Although there were some unexpectedly anthropomorphic portrayals of psychopomps too, most of them avian but with the odd canine or equine contribution thrown in for good measure.
As he made his way towards the Community Mausoleum via Holly Circle and along the Spruce Lawn, Ducky realised why some people were so fascinated with visiting cemeteries, particularly historic ones. There was even a name for those enthusiasts – they were known as taphophiles and Dr Mallard, who spent much of his working life around cadavers and death didn't find it macabre or gruesome in the slightest. He considered it a rather quaint and harmless hobby actually and he was rather enjoying his small taste of it immensely.
Still, needs must, as they say, Ducky reminded himself pensively, ambling across the Spruce Lawn, clutching onto Jane Doe's urn carefully. "I supposed you're wondering why I thought you should be interned in Norfolk. There are many fine establishments around the District of Colombia, after all. Some not too far from the Navy Yards or even several in the vicinity of Reston, Virginia near me."
Pausing, he breathed deeply before soldiering on stoically. "Truth is, that I did consider it. I thought about it long and hard, but I remembered the director's admonishment to me. I acted in a highly intemperate and extraordinarily unprofessional manner which could easily have meant that Janice Santos' killer got off scot-free."
Ducky paused to take in the community mausoleum, it's gleaming Alabama marble sparkled in the afternoon sunshine. Proceeding inside, he was uncharacteristically silent as he took in the stained-glass skylight – the work of the well known architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, a talented multifaceted man. He fancifully imagined that Frank Lloyd Wright and Leonardo DaVinci might have had some quite enthralling discussions, had they'd been contemporaries.
Exiting the art deco structure, he felt a sudden yen to visit the historic Langley family burial plot while he was here, so he strolled east, admiring the duality of this place which made it stand out from other cemeteries he'd been to. Along with the typically structured lawn cemetery characteristics, namely order, uniformity and organization, it harmonized pleasingly with a more natural, less manicured natural landscape. For example, the outer topography along with the choice of plantings was quite rugged at times, making the place feel more like a nature reserve and less like a place of melancholia and brood death.
Resuming their discussion, he told Jane, "If I am to finally let go of my guilt in not being able to identify you then I need to truly let you go, too. If you were interned closer to work or my home, I fear I'd be impelled to visit you regularly which, would impede my ability to put your case to rest. It would also prevent you from finding peace, safe in the knowledge your killer cannot harm anyone else.
"Unfortunately, there are still plenty of monsters like Harlen Wilson and victims that need justice out there. As I demonstrated last week, I cannot risk potentially compromising those investigations. We were lucky this time, but Thomas told me he can't risk it happening again.
"He gave me an ultimatum," Ducky confessed seriously. "He ordered me to resolve my guilt issues, re your death or to hang up my rib cutters permanently. I admit I was momentarily angered by his directive, along with more than a little shocked but, in hindsight, he was well within his rights. Unresolved grief and guilt are extremely strong, destructive emotions which are a liability in this job. I'm not saying that we shouldn't feel guilt over our failures because if you can't, then frankly you have no humanity and shouldn't be doing this job. And yet too much grief or guilt will hobble you and make it impossible to do your job competently; the key is trying to retain a balance which I'll admit isn't easy to achieve."
"So, after an hour or two of railing against the high-handedness of Director Morrow I pulled my head out of my nether regions and sought the services of a colleague of mine, Maya Richardson, an eminent grief therapist. I frequently recommend her services to grief-stricken families of my patients and, I'm happy to report that she deserves her excellent reputation. She's good!" he said decidedly.
"After confiding in her, she helped me to accept that my guilt is normal but also high unproductive. Maya made me see that I can honour your memory more effectively helping other victims whose voices have been silenced, to find justice for what has happened to them. The good doctor suggested that if you were interred somewhere so you can find peace but not too close to DC, it would help me in letting you go. And I think that Maya was right… hence Forest Lawn Cemetery," he said glancing around him with a smile.
"Plus, there is a distinct possibility that you had some connection with Norfolk at some point in your life. Perhaps you worked here, or you might have been born and grown up here and was visiting someone when you died. But even if that isn't the case and you were just literally passing through when Wilson attacked you, it is still a beautiful part of the country."
As he paused to regain his breath, he confessed, "Plus while I cannot know if you still have any surviving family, I can ensure that you have a surrogate family of sorts, my dear. I've spoken at length to Janice Santos' parents about you. They know that if it wasn't for your tragic death and the exhaustive, but the ultimately fruitless quest for justice for you, Cynthia Cluxton might have gotten away with Janice's heinous murder.
"Mr and Mrs Santos feel indebted to you and, they want your ashes to be interred with their daughter. Janice will be buried next Wednesday in a picturesque plot down at the Linden Lawn. They intend to add your name to her headstone, and they'll visit you both regularly and keep the gravesite well-tended since they live here in Norfolk, as do several of Janice's siblings. They vowed that you wouldn't be forgotten; they're good honest people, so I'm comfortable leaving you in their faithful care. I think you will be happy here."
Appearing to listen to an unseen individual, he nodded a little regretfully. "Yes, I know it isn't perfect, Jane. I wanted to find your family and let them know why you never came home. Yet I've finally come to an acceptance that it's unlikely to ever happen, for various reasons over which I have no control. You might not even be a US citizen; you might have come from anywhere in the world, and unless someone comes searching for you, I don't expect we will ever truly know."
Ducky addressed the urn sorrowfully but with a resolute acceptance too. Maya had made him see that he had done everything humanly possible and that it was simply the way it was. Sometimes life sucks, was how she put it rather pithily and succinctly.
"At least now you've been welcomed by Miss Santos' family to become a part of theirs. So, I think that given the fact that we solved your murder, albeit too late for Lady Justice to mete out a worldly punishment, this is the best possible ending to a tragic situation. We must hope and pray that Harlen Wilson's retribution is visited upon him in the afterlife and that his punishment lasts for a very long time," Ducky retorted with more than a little touch of vindictiveness mixed in with optimism for justice to prevail.
"So, before we bid each other goodbye, shall we take one last stroll together down to the Linden Lawn to check out your final resting place, dear child?"
Ducky headed back towards Holly Circle, feeling more and more confident with every passing step that he was doing the right thing. Thomas Morrow was right to issue him with an ultimatum. This was difficult, but he knew that if he didn't let Jane Doe go, the guilt would simply continue to eat away at him, eventually compromising other victims' quests for justice. Thomas knew he'd never recover should such an event come to pass; that not even his illustrious career would be able to appease his conscience.
Ducky also suspected that unless the director had given him an ultimatum, he wouldn't have been able to let go of his failure to put a name to Jane's body. Which was why he was sure that Morrow had acted with great perspicacity for all concerned. When he got back to DC, Ducky fully intended to buy Director Morrow a bottle of whisky. Not just any scotch - a bottle of Glenfiddich Gran Reserva Scotch Whisky, a single malt that was aged for 21 years. Ducky felt it would convey a tangible expression of his remorse at his appalling professional lapse and his eternal gratitude that Morrow had given him a well-deserved kick in the pants, forcing him to man up.
He knew that Thomas' grandfather was a proud Scot from Aberdeen and that Thomas' father had emigrated to the US, so it came as no surprise that the director's tipple was single malt whisky and Ducky knew that Glenfiddich was his preferred brand. Ducky smiled as he recalled Morrow stomping into Autopsy in a fearful strop one day. He'd sought Ducky out purely for the purposes of complaining that his lovely Irish-born wife, Lynette had used his Glenfiddich to make up a batch of homemade Bailey's Irish Cream liqueur for a dinner party at their home.
The liqueur, usually consisted of cream, cocoa and Diageo Irish whiskey had proved to be highly popular with his dinner guests, declaring it wonderfully smooth, the best they'd ever had. Swallowing down his mirth which he intuited the director wouldn't appreciate, Ducky thought that it was hardly a surprise he was incensed, declaring it to be a monstrous waste of his expensive single malt Scotch.
Unfortunately, Ducky hadn't been able to contain himself, flippantly remarking he should be grateful that Lynette hadn't used 26-year-old Glenfiddich Excellence that cost $400. He was correct - Thomas hadn't seen anything amusing about the episode and likely still didn't. No one got between a Scotsman and his whisky. Still, he was sure the director would appreciate receiving a bottle of his favourite drop as a token of Ducky's gratitude for helping him move on.
As Ducky and his precious charge proceeded to the Linden Lawn section, he started to regale Jane with a lecture on the stunning linden trees that surrounded him.
"This is quite glorious is it not, my dear? As you may know, linden trees develop a broad crown that landscape gardeners often choose for its generous shade and shelter. Although it's slow-growing, certain sub-species of the linden tree can attain a majestic height of 130 feet, probably why it's favoured in public areas as its full size is too large for many private residences. While most linden trees live for a few hundred years, there are several specimens across the world believed to be more than a thousand years old?" he enthused as he admired the array of linden trees which embraced the rows and rows of gravesites.
Continuing to extoll the virtues of the noble linden, Ducky continued in his pedagogical mode, "In summer, the linden tree's broad canopy provides dappled shade, allowing just enough sunlight for flowers and shade grasses to flourish on the ground below. In autumn, the tree's large, asymmetrical, heart-shaped leaves with pointed tips and an average diameter of around 6 to 20 centimetres take on a beautiful golden hue before eventually dropping, leaving a golden carpet of leaves on the ground below. In the springtime the linden blossoms consisting of masses of tiny, cream to yellow coloured clusters of flowers are abundant, keeping honey-bees busy producing linden honey renowned for its healing and health-giving qualities."
Glancing around at the majestic trees, often referred to in parts of the UK as lime trees, not to be confused with the citrus variety, Ducky felt that this was a delightful sanctuary to spend eternity. It was an infinitely better option than buried anonymously in potter's field or even just dwelling on a shelf in his rather dour office in Autopsy, with its artificial lighting and a dearth of sunshine or birdsong. Yes, Jane would find peace here he felt sure.
Looking at his watch, he realised that it was approaching the 3 o'clock appointment which he'd made to meet with the funeral director who was organising Miss Santos' burial service so he could relinquish custody of his charge. Sighing, he turned, walking toward the front gates where the office was situated, confident he'd made the right decision, even if with their inevitable parting, it was tinged with a touch of melancholy. Ten years was a bloody long time to be together!
Remembering Maya's sagacious counsel, he steeled himself for the parting, telling her kindly, "It's not the home you knew in this life, but I think you'll find peace here."
As he headed back to meet with the mortician, Mr Hubert Cross, he realised in all of his ramblings, locomotory and verbally, he'd neglected to tell his long-time companion the finer details of how they'd solved the case. Well the two cases actually, that had brought them here to Norfolk, preparing for a parting of the ways. Deciding that it would provide them with an appropriate topic of conversation upon which to end their time together, he launched into a garrulous account of the rest of the NCIS investigation.
As they neared the office, Ducky noted that the brisk pace he'd set had ensured that they were early for the funeral director. Glad to have a few minutes of respite from his long but enjoyable constitutional, he sank down gratefully on one of the stone benches that dotted the garden landscape. Sighing thankfully, he continued to fill Jane in on the last part of the case.
"So, as I was saying, once we figured out that the killer had probably been incarcerated, young Timothy was assigned to check out possible suspects who had been recently released.
Of course, that was how we found Harlen Wilson who had, at that point, been dead for six weeks. Fortunately, Anthony and Timothy, being highly competent agents, persuaded his brother to give them Harlen's hairbrush which had hair for DNA comparison which allowed it to be compared to the original DNA left at your crime scene, Jane. That hairbrush was literally what cracked the case wide open – that and Caitlin and Anthony managed to identify of Miss Santos. She was a musician in a band working at a gay bar near the navy base. When the team learnt from Timothy that he strongly suspected that Cynthia Cluxton was a lesbian, things started falling into place rather rapidly.
"Of course, prior to tha,t Caitlin learnt the petty officer who'd discovered the first body, PO Ian Goetz had been assigned to the aircraft carrier Teddy Roosevelt ten years ago. He had been a suspect in SA Dawes investigation, and he was still serving in the navy. Goetz had since been promoted to a chief petty officer, who coincidentally was now serving aboard the same ship as the seamen that discovered the latest body, the Abraham Lincoln. Gibbs ordered him to be brought in and questioned, naturally but he volunteered to give a DNA sample which proved he was not the killer."
Ducky pursed his lips together as he mused about the extraordinary coincidence of the person who discovered Jane's body also just happened to arrive back at Norfolk after six months at sea on the very same night as Janice Santos was strangled. It did beggar belief, even in the most credulous of intellects.
"You have to wonder about the odds of Goetz and his proximity to both crime scenes, my dear. Upon reflection, I can't help but ask myself if Cynthia was deliberately cultivating that ingenuous overly keen-to-learn persona just to make people underestimate her.
"The reason I say that is because it would seem to be extremely coincidental that Janice was killed the very same night that CPO Goetz docked at Norfolk after a six-month deployment. She would likely have access to that information as Master at Arms, I feel sure. And yes, my dear child, I do realise that it would mean that her killing of Janice was entirely premeditated and not a crime of passion, which for some reason seems to be somewhat less wicked." The normally youthful looking ME Ducky seemed much older than his years as he contemplated this horrendous scenario.
As a sharp breeze cut through the area, he adjusted his slightly battered and much-loved fedora and resettled his scarf a little more snuggly around his neck. November afternoons could be quite nippy, and he had no desire to take a chill. He had too many people depending upon him, including his mother, Victoria Mallard.
"Equally, I can't help but question if she'd learnt about Chief Goetz from her father's case files or maybe from his private notes on the investigation after his death. No files are supposed to be removed from NCIS but even if they deny it, many agents still keep personal files of cases they worked, especially unsolved ones. Philip Dawes could have had suspicions regarding Harlen Wilson as a suspect, even if he didn't voice them officially," Ducky suggested broodingly.
"It seems far too convenient that he just happened to be released from jail before she decided to copy his MO, don't you think, Jane? If she had been investigating her father's case on her own and he'd had his eyes on Wilson then it's even possible that she knew he was incarcerated in Canada and that he was being released" he mused smiling a little sadly at the thought that this would be the last time he used Jane as his sounding board. Stoically, he continued to finish a tale which was ten years in the making – Jane deserved to know.
"When we gathered in Abby's lab the next day, she'd managed to run all of the DNA comparisons in record time. Our resident Goth had really come through for us once again. She reported that the DNA on the first note matched the sperm sample from your rapist, Jane proving that the note was authored or at least handled by your killer. There are no fingerprints and no DNA on the second note, however. She'd concluded the handwriting on the two notes might be the same, but since unlike ballistics, it isn't her forte, she wisely sent copies to a forensic handwriting expert to analyse. Postscript – the handwriting expert confirmed that the notes were written by two different individuals.
"What else?" Ducky asked rhetorically. "Ah yes, the DNA sample, which was volunteered by Chief Petty Officer Goetz; the suspect who discovered your body. It didn't match the sperm sample, or the DNA left on the first note or the second scene either. It was the DNA from Harlan Wilson's hairbrush which was a match for the sperm I had collected from you and Janice Santos post-mortem. Of course, this was good and bad news since it looked as if we had finally found your killer but not Miss Santos' killer since Wilson had been dead for approximately six weeks before she died. That made it quite impossible for him to have been her killer.
That was when our young probie, Timothy McGee had the inspired idea that Wilson's semen could have been inserted into Janice's vagina after Santos was murdered."
Ducky frowned, briefly. "It was an excellent hypothesis, although, on a side note, I am beginning to have some serious reservations about Caitlin's squeamishness. She was quite appalled when he floated the possibility. As she considers herself a psychological profiler, her prudishness seems to be at odds with the role of a profiler, particularly as much of the work of your average profiler focuses on serial killers who tend to be sexual sadists.
"I just don't see how she can hope to be an effective profiler on the MCRT if she's going so grossed out by the possibility that a killer might plant semen on a dead body rather than leave it behind by ejaculating," he confided to his charge with a touch of disdain.
"Anyhow, putting aside my somewhat improper expression of my doubt about a colleague's skill for now," Ducky told her ruefully, "After McGee floated his theory about how the sperm came to be at a crime scene, Jethro raised an extremely pertinent point. He wanted to know if McGee's theory was correct, how had the murderer obtained the semen of a man who was already dead.
"Of course, there were several means of obtaining biological samples, however, I decided to employ Occam's razor theory to the puzzle. In this case, the most likely explanation was that someone had obtained the sperm the same way that I had for comparison purposes when I drove down to the Norfolk FO after completing Miss Santos' post-mortem to retrieve one of the samples I'd collected when I performed your autopsy ten years ago."
Ducky was on a roll now, cognizant that time was slipping swiftly through his fingers as he tried to finish his account. "Once we decided that it was a viable line of enquiry, it was simply a matter of reviewing video surveillance of the evidence room where Harlen Wilson's sperm was stored. We started from the day before the murder, intending on going back day by day. That proved to be unnecessary, though as McGee recognised the petty officer on the video almost immediately and remembered that Cluxton was her mother's name and her father was none other than Special Agent Dawes. As I'm sure you know, Dawes was the lead agent investigating your case, Jane.
"So, at that point, we knew who, how and when Miss Santos had died but we didn't know why. When Timothy dropped the bombshell that although he didn't ask and PO Cluxton didn't tell, he believed she was gay. Which caused the penny to drop with Agent DiNozzo; Anthony explained that although Miss Santos' apartment had been completely sanitised, she'd been working in a lesbian bar and the odds were that she could well be gay too. After speaking with her friends and family, that theory was confirmed and we learnt she had recently broken up with a girlfriend who was in the navy and that it had been rather acrimonious," Ducky shook his head sadly.
"Once Jethro had the petty officer in interrogation, it was all over bar the shouting. And there was quite a bit of it from Cynthia when faced with the proof that the man she set up couldn't have killed Janice. She cracked under the pressure and confessed, albeit it unwillingly. And that my dear, is how we came to solve not just your heinous murder but Janice's killing too. If she hadn't made it look like Wilson had struck again, or if the killing had taken place when was alive, the manipulative fiend could have gotten away with murder," Ducky concluded grimly. His usually gentle blue eyes glaring fiercely at his shoes as he contemplated how close it had come to that happening.
"Honestly, there isn't much more to tell, but as I mentioned earlier, after the cases had been put to bed, Thomas summoned Myself and Jethro and yielded a rather large stick. Primarily it was directed at me for failing to follow procedure allowing myself and the MCRT to get too caught up in a case and he was completely within his rights to do that. Plus, he excoriated Gibbs as well for jumping right into the case without a formal review by the whole team of the case file. He said that Jethro just dived right in and although we caught the killer in the end, had the situation been different, we could easily have had a most unsatisfactory outcome.
"Thomas rightly pointed out that if Jethro's leadership style encouraged more collaboration and less of the authoritarian head smacks and yelling at people for wasting precious seconds during an investigation, it might have made a difference. McGee might have mentioned to his teammates that the Master at Arms was Special Agent Dawes, daughter. They would have known after reading the case file that he was the lead agent on her case and with her involvement in the new killing, it would have made then suspicious. Plus, in a more cooperative less competitive workplace, Timothy might have mentioned much earlier that he thought she was gay. The only reason it ended up coming to light was that Abby believed Cynthia and Timothy had been sleeping together and was jealous.
If the team had known either of those facts sooner, it would surely have sent up red flags, when combined with how she moved the body, that she "happened" to find the second letter left after Miss Santos' death. Then there was her determination to be present when the note was examined forensically, which was rather suspicious. If that vile, evil monster Harlen Wilson hadn't died well before the killing, we may never have caught on that there was a second killer. It is strangely ironic, though, that he ended up being the catalyst to her getting caught," Ducky offered with a grim sense of satisfaction.
Looking up, he saw Hubert Cross emerge through the rather ostentatious entryway of the main office and glance around. Well, it was a place where people went to memorialise their loved ones, therefore grandiose architecture and a psychopompic depictions in the cemetery's funerary art and statuary were the norm and probably comforting to the grieving relatives and friends. No doubt they'd find reassurance in the universal theme of animals, spirits and angels portrayed in multiple religions and cultures escorting the newly deceased souls from Earth to the afterlife.
As he knew, the word psychopomp was derived from the Greek word psychopompós, literally meaning the guide of souls. It was the role of psychopomps to guide people, they were not there to offer judgement, so were usually seen as comforting figures to most individuals. Well, Ducky thought wryly, the exception was the Grim Reaper – society's current depiction of a psychopomp. He had definite negative undertones should you ask most people, especially when compared to depictions of an ethereal angel messenger.
Anyway, he supposed it was a moot point, seeing that his Jane Doe had been dead for a decade, although if such beings did exist, perhaps Miss Santo's guide might make an exception and help Jane find her way home too. Otherwise, this is not a bad place to spend eternity.
Knowing that their time to say goodbye was rapidly approaching, Ducky told her soothingly, "It's time for our relationship to change, my dear. It's time for you to go home. It's not the home you knew in this life, but I think you'll find peace here."
Standing, as the funeral director come down the steps to receive Jane's cremains, Dr Mallard realised that the overwhelming sense of responsibility which he'd carried around with him for so long was gone. In its place was a feeling of freedom he hadn't known in years.
Ducky told her gently, "And the way things turned out, so will I."
With deference typical of how he treated all those who entered his morgue, the veteran medical examiner surrendered the urn to the mortician care, feeling a softly feminine-like sense of peace and acceptance embrace him like a warm hug. He sensed that Jane was happy that she'd be laid to rest here, knowing her brutal murderer was identified, finally, and she was trying to tell him that. Hopefully, while she found well-deserved peace here, Wilson would encounter the retribution that he'd eluded in his mortal life. Ducky may not be a fire and brimstone kind of guy, but he sincerely hoped it included something along the lines of Dante's nine circles of hell. Former machinist mate Harlen Wilson richly deserved eternal suffering for his crimes.
Ducky turned and walked resolutely away from the funeral director solemnly offering up a valediction to Jane. To the only victim, he'd failed to identify.
His cultivated English accent seamlessly fading away, replaced by the gentle Scottish burr of his homeland as he wished her an old Gaelic blessing of peace.
The peace of joys,
The peace of lights,
The peace of consolations.
The peace of souls,
The peace of heaven,
The peace of the virgins.
The peace of the fairy bowers,
The peace of the peacefulness,
The peace of the everlasting."
Dr Mallard was confident that Jane would find safe harbour here at the Norfolk Forest Lawn Cemetery. After all, she was in fine company here. The Army's 111th Field Artillery Battalion and 29th Infantry Division Memorials had soldiers interred here who gave their lives during World War II in Normandy, Northern France, the Rhineland, and Central Europe from 1944-1945 too. He also knew that the Seaman's Friend Society had purchase plots at Forest Lawn and paid for internment fees so that sailors who passed away at sea or died after docking here, could be laid to rest if no family claimed them.
He exited the imposing double gates of the lawn cemetery. Sliding into his beloved Morgan which he'd rebuilt with his own hands, he looked back one last time.
Dr Donald Mallard closed his eyes as he uttered a final prayer for Lieutenant Jane Doe, Legal Name: unknown, DOB: unknown, DOD:12th November 1994, so long entrusted to his care.
"I know you're not in the US Navy, my dear because there was no match on your fingerprints, although you could have been a civilian sailor. I guess we'll never know. Nevertheless, with that possibility in mind and my professional relationship with the US Navy, on your final journey, my wish for you, dear Jane is for fair winds and following seas and long may your big jib draw."
Finis
End notes
Just wanted to say that I have never actually been to the Forest Lawn Cemetery, Norfolk. Any mistakes in this story about the cemetery are due to a lack of online data: feel free to let me know (politely) so I can fix it.
Definition of psychopomp - a conductor of souls to the underworld or afterlife.