Kate Beckett, Investigator Chapter 37

"What's wrong?" Kate asks as a suddenly pale Castle stares at the morning's Ledger.

"The train crash on the Hudson Line that was on the news last night – they've released a list of the dead. Barney Filmore is on it."

"Barney Filmore? Was he a friend of yours, Babe? I don't remember you mentioning him before."

His eyes grim, Castle shakes his head. "Because I probably never did. We were of fairly brief acquaintance. He was my roommate at Blouser Academy, the educational institution holding the record for kicking me out the fastest. I was only there for four weeks."

"What did you do?"

"Strangely enough, nothing. Mother was in a play to great hurrah. The reviews were outstanding, and the place was sold out every night. Then suddenly, the roof fell in – literally. It was an old theater, and during hard times, the maintenance hadn't been kept up. Damage from a series of small leaks finally caused the supports to give way. Thank God the injuries were minor, but the play closed for good that night. The school immediately came to the conclusion that Mother wouldn't be able to cover my tuition, and that was it. But Barney was kind. He tried to get the other students to put together a fund for me. But since they barely knew me, they weren't interested. So out I went."

"Did you and Barney keep up with each other?"

"The occasional letter and phone call for a while. And he was on my Christmas card list until one came back as 'not at this address.' After that, I had no idea what happened to him. When social media started getting big, I conducted a search for Barney Filmores. But none of them was the right one. This is the first I've heard of him."

"Then how do you know the Barney Filmore on the train was the right Barney Filmore?"

"Because they gave his middle name, Prometheus. When I searched for him, that's how I eliminated the other Barney Filmores. Common first and surname, but his middle name made him unique."

"I'm sorry, Babe. The reporter last night said the cause of the crash is being investigated. Does the paper say what they came up with?"

"According to this, there was nothing apparent that would have blocked the tracks, and the train controls didn't malfunction. The investigators believe the operator was over-speeding around a curve. I thought there were supposed to be sensors or something to prevent that. How could it even happen?"

Kate lays her hand on Castle's shoulder. "I don't know, but maybe we can find out."

Fire stirs in Castle's eyes. "Damn straight, we'll find out."

Castle swipes his sleeve over his forehead as he researches the technology applied to trains. The Federal Government had mandated the installation of positive train control, known as PTC, in trains by 2015. According to what the writer can find, it would have prevented the accident. Unfortunately, the Metro-Northern Railroad dragged its feet. The train Barney rode had no PTC. At the fatal curve near the Spuyten Duyvil Station, four of the 115 passengers, including Barney, were killed. Sixty-one were injured. The estimates put the damage the accident caused at $9 million. But how much was Barney's life worth? How much were the lives of the other victims worth? Castle realizes that he has no idea what kind of a life his former roommate was living. He doesn't know anything about the other victims either.

Kate can look into the legal aspects of the tragedy, but Castle determines that the victims' stories will be told, starting with Barney Prometheus Filmore. If he was riding the MTA's Hudson line, chances are that he lived or worked somewhere along the route. It's as good a place as any to start. But there may be one other. If there is a funeral or memorial service for Barney Filmore, Castle will be going. Aside from anything he may learn about his former roomie, he owes an old friend that much.

Settling at a terminal at the law library, Kate begins a search for laws regarding train safety. As far back as 1990, the National Transportation Safety Board, NTSB, listed PTC on its list of "Most Wanted Safety Improvements." At the time, train operators held their crews responsible for safety, allowing them to point a finger at human error for any accidents. "Very convenient," Kate mumbles under her breath. Apparently, the operators had enough political clout to keep Congress from doing anything until 2008. That was a year before she met Castle, a time when she ate, slept, worked, kept an eye on her father, and tried hard to pretend that she'd coped with her mother's murder. Except for when the subway lurched under her feet, train safety would never have approached her consciousness.

Congress was only forced to draft a bill in response to a train collision in September of 2008, which killed 25 passengers and injured over 135. The deaths were greater in number than the derailment that killed Barney Fillmore, but neither should have happened. Neither would have happened if the NTSB's recommendations had been followed in 1990. The deadline for the installation of PTC across track-bound transportation would have been much sooner.

Kate sighs. Somehow, between the time a solution to a problem is perceived and the time lawmakers get around to trying to implement it is always too long. Days, weeks, and years slip away at the cost of human lives and suffering. Lawyers like her father try their best to find some recompense and hope for those left behind. Environmental action is no different. Her fingernails bite into her palms as her hands curl into fists. Kicking enough ass and raising a din loud enough to imperil lawmakers' seats is the only thing that forces meaningful action. As a lawyer, she's going to kick plenty and make a hell of a lot of noise.

After searching in vain for any newspaper or online listings of a memorial for Barney Filmore, Castle wonders if the body is being held while an investigation continues. Figuring that if Lanie doesn't know, someone in her network of M.E. contacts will, he picks up the phone. He can picture her mulling at the other end of the call. "Castle, as far as I know, the bodies would be released to the families as soon as the cause of death could be fully established, but I can do some checking. The victim you're interested in is named Barney Filmore?"

"Right, Barney Prometheus Fillmore. He would be just about my age, white with brown hair and brown eyes."

"All right, Castle. If I find out anything, I'll let you know," Lanie promises.

"Thanks, Lanie."

"And tell Kate and my goddaughter that I said hello."

"Will do."

Castle tilts back in his chair with his hands behind his head. He still hasn't had any luck at finding out where Barney lived or worked, but he decides to try another tack. One thing on which he and Barney bonded was Star Wars. They'd both been fascinated by the original release of A New Hope and traded possible scenarios for the future of the Jedi. They had, of course, been dead wrong in their predictions but had a great time making them. Whatever spare money Barney had went to Star Wars collectibles. Maybe he kept up the habit. Castle knows all the best dealers. Maybe one of them knew Barney.