They found him two nights later, laying in the middle of the park. He was delirious and feverish; they couldn't find his shirt or his coat or and identification. The officers tried to rouse him, but he couldn't walk; he was too weak. The younger hot-shot officer figured the kid was a user, "Just look at those needle marks." The other two argued that the remainder of the boy's clothes were too nice, he was too clean. But none of them could help but look at the way his body laid; like a crumpled heap of limbs and psychological deterioration.
One of the officers, a big man, carried the poor boy to the car; and when the boy woke up a bit, he whispered, "You're okay, son."
The boy whispered, "I'm sorry for being such a bad son," his hands clinging to his shirt, tears staining the front of his shirt. The doctors told him there was nothing else that the officers could do other than try to discover the identity of the boy. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't look at the kid another second.
He never told anyone about what the poor, emaciated boy in the park whispered in his ear. He only went home and held his own sons close and told them how much he loved them.
The nurses were all enamoured with the sweet, sickly boy in room 345, the one who cried and thrashed and talked to people who weren't there; the one who was always saying he was a high king. He'd named the nurses in his delirium, and his favorites were the two he named Edmund and Lucy, always thanking them and telling them how much he loved them. They had all come to fondly call him "High King John Doe", using this nickname to coax him into eating.
"Come on, High King," Nurse Emily said, "Just a bit, sweetheart. Just a little bite for me."
"I don't want any, Lucy," he sobbed, his eyes fluttering shut, "I don't want any food. They're trying to poison me, Lu. Don't let them poison me any more." He reached out, grabbing her wrist and staring at her with wide, innocent eyes, "Please, I hurt inside."
Nurse Emily was moved to another floor for the rest of her shift when she couldn't stop sobbing for the boy in 345.
It wasn't until Lucy happened to be watching the news one night that Susan found out. Lucy had called her, screaming and crying that Peter was on the news and in the picture he looked dead, "Susan, He looks dead, can't you help him? Mother turned off the news and didn't say a word, what on earth has gotten into her?"
Susan didn't answer that question; calmed her down and told her she'd help Peter in any way she could. She called the police station, inquiring about the man on the news, stating she'd be down at the hospital the next day to identify him.
The officer who carried him slept for the first night in a week.