In 1986 I went to work for a local Family Medical Practice that had 8 locations in nearby areas, I completed an internship and began as a lab and x-ray tech. It was a new world filled with microbials and new employees who came and went as people always do, seems everyone is in a constant state of transition.
Roland literally looked like superman, he was an Olympic swimmer turned Lab Tech/ Lab Manager, tall, broad shoulders, muscles everywhere, flirty, beautiful smile and a wicked sense of humor, Roland was married to a much older woman who had a thing for experimentation. Bob was an older guy, late 50’s, raspy voice, kind of nerdy, glasses, a little pudgy, soft spoken and great at explaining things. He had a positivity about him that made everyone like him. Dawn was in her late 20’s, short Dorothy Hamell haircut that looked like she lost a fight with a bowl, she was overconfident and wore a black watch on both arms, Dawn only wore white button-down shirts and white pants but didn’t realize her little colored panties were the first thing you saw as she ran from place to place, she had a constant wedgie. I liked Dawn because she thought she was funny and tried her damnest to be funny.
Later came Earline, a super short black woman with puffy hair, a big smile, and a huge fun attitude, she was fabulous, and we became great friends. I learned at Waffle House that where you work can be a place of fun if you are surrounded by the right people and if those people all chose to enjoy the day instead of gripe about it. We chose to have fun.
There was always some dramatic issue or medical assignment to complete, from blood counts to GNIDC slides to HTLVIII studies that were innovative, experimental and a great learning experience. Then there were experiments on frozen beer, accidental explosions from using chemicals to short cut giardia sediment separation and chemical shortcuts that we experimented with. When patient volume was low, we would get bored. Dawn would go up front to the admin areas and help the ladies, and the rest of us would scatter or find some odd thing to do. I can’t or won’t say how many x-ray films we wasted and what we wasted them on, but each received heavy laughter and filled some down time. I also will skip over what we did with ekg leads and defib modules. There were gurney races, chair races, darkroom antics, and secret lunches. I caught Roland with his pants down many, many times in the x-ray room. Bob transferred to another location, Dawn left for Florida, and it was just Roland and I for a good six months having a great smoochy time until Pat came on board in 1987.
Patrick Henry was tall, creepy, thin, brooding, small mustached, and somewhat of a sinister celebrity. He was at one point a practicing dermatologist and 99% of the office stayed far away from him. No one talked to Pat, no chatter, no lunches, just whispers from afar, the usual rumor mill mess, but man did he have a story and I like a good story, so I was the one that Pat befriended. At first he was not the least bit interested, he did his job, kept to his self and refused to participate in conversations but little by little came out of his protective shell.
Pat was that atypical psyco that killed kitties as a little boy and naturally had an attraction to all things sinister. In 1979 he dressed up in disguise, carried a torture kit and followed his then wife with the intent of kidnapping her and torturing her to death. He had knives, safety pins, fireworks, rope, tape, all sorts of items and a step-by-step plan.
Using the name of Terry Cordell, a mental patient at the Maryland hospital where the Pat was doing his residency, he created a false identity by securing a birth certificate, social security card, and driver's license in Cordell's name. He also accumulated material to be used for his "Terry Cordell disguise". The opportunity to murder his wife finally arrived when he was invited to a dermatology convention in Dallas, Texas as it provided him with a perfect alibi. In Maryland, he reserved a private room in Dallas so that he could come and go undetected. He also reserved a flight on Continental Airlines from Dallas to Tucson in the name of Terry Cordell with a return flight to Dallas on American Airlines in the name of a friend, Donald Vester. He planned to change from the Terry Cordell disguise to the Donald Vester outfit prior to his departure from Tucson.
Before he left Maryland, Pat put the intended murder weapon, a .32 caliber revolver, in a black brief case which had a broken handle, along with other items which might be used to perpetrate the crime. After he checked into his motel room in Dallas, he wrote down his plan, step by step, together with a last-minute check list and placed both in his wallet. When he left the motel room, he was dressed in his clumsy Cordell disguise. Pat checked the attaché case as baggage and because he could not find it when he arrived in Tucson, he filed a lost baggage claim with Continental Airlines. While he could not immediately carry out his plan to murder his wife, the plan was still in effect.
Next morning he walked ten miles to where his wife was staying, sedated her dog, watched her, then the surrounding area activities. 7:15 a. m., Christina and their son left the house while he was in plain view about 100 feet away. After watching her he was struck with remorse and realized he could never kill her, then walked downtown to the Marriott Hotel and took an airport limousine to the terminal. He went to the Continental Airlines ticket counter and upon inquiry, was handed his lost brief case.
He then went to the American Airlines counter to upgrade his ticket to a day coach in order to leave earlier than scheduled. The ticket agent, Mr. Zarr, noticed that Pat seemed exceedingly nervous and that he was trying to disguise himself since he was wearing a long-haired, ill-fitting black wig. Mr. Zarr also noted that when Pat reached into his pocket for money, the muscle of his arm wrinkled indicating that rather than being a very large, heavy-set man as he appeared, he was actually wearing a great deal of padding underneath his clothing. Pat tried to check the briefcase he was carrying so Mr. Zarr took the case, noted that the handle was broken and taped the claim check to it.
Before it was placed on the conveyor belt, Pat panicked and demanded its return, indicating that he would return it shortly. He then disappeared with the case, walking towards the men's room. His suspicions aroused, Mr. Zarr went to his supervisor, Mr. Weber, and reported the incident. Mr. Weber became concerned and instructed Mr. Zarr that if the man should return with the briefcase, he was to tell him that it was too late to check it and that he would have to take the case to the departure gate, which would require an examination by the x-ray machine.
After 10 minutes, Pat returned wearing the trench coat he had previously been carrying. Mr. Zarr told him that he would have to check his bag at the departure gate. Rather than leave the airport, Pat took the brief case to the security gate where it was passed through the screening device and was asked to open the case, Pat stated that he did not have the key and was thus unable to comply. A Tucson Airport Authority police officer stationed at the gate, unaware that American Airlines officials desired the bag to go through a security checkpoint prior to being loaded, told Pat that if he would not open his briefcase, he could not take it further and would have to return the bag to the ticket counter.
The briefcase was again screened by the x-ray device and this time the operator was able to see a handgun, a pair of pliers, a spool of string or wire. That the brief case contained a weapon was in itself a violation of federal law. Of more immediate concern however, was the possibility that the string or wire was a fuse connected to an explosive device. Mr. Boiko, Mr. Weber and the Tucson Airport Authority police officers took the case to American's baggage service area where it was partially opened. By raising the lid approximately one inch and peering inside, both Mr. Boiko and Mr. Weber saw that the case did indeed contain a spool of string or wire. Alarmed that it might contain an explosive device, they took the bag outside and deposited it in a bomb basket, a device to protect against explosion. The Pima County Sheriff's office explosive ordnance detail was summoned along with the Tucson Police Department's bomb detection dog squad. When the dogs arrived, they were allowed to investigate the briefcase and responded positively to the presence of explosives. The sheriff's officers, alerted to the presence of explosives by the dogs, inspected the briefcase. A .32 caliber revolver, extra ammunition, miscellaneous burglar tools, a number of explosives, fireworks and a birth certificate for a Terry Lee Cordell was found inside the case.
Based on this information, appellant was arrested upon deplaning in Dallas. When he was searched, several scraps of paper were found on him, including the plan of the murder which had been written down, a map of the City of Tucson, and a librium capsule, the identical drug which had been administered to the dog. Pat was tried and convicted in federal court in Tucson where he served 6 and a half years of a 15-year attempted murder conviction. While in jail he wrote a book called the Outlaw’s Bible by E.X. Boozhie. There is a great book written about his attempted murder called Deadly Intentions and a movie was also made.
Pat was so odd, a definite loner, analytical, and articulate. Once he became accustomed to my pushing for info about his past, he opened, and we had so many interesting discussions. He often got angry and lost his temper but always walked away and came back oddly normal. He was always super serious about medical tests, lab related diagnosis and was an excellent instructor but he sucked at being human. He tried, but never quite made it. We worked together for a good year before Pat found himself back in trouble, but this time it was evidence that I believe was planted by his second weirdo wife, Nancy who was unhappy and wanted a way out.
Nancy called the police and said she found ammo, a weapon and books on explosives and fake ids in a closet. She gave them the make and model of his car, work schedule and told them exactly where in his vehicle to look for what she called “illegal drugs” which turned out to be a tiny leftover piece of a marijuana joint. I know for a fact that Pat didn’t use any drugs, alcohol or pot, he was constantly preaching against it. Pat was a psycho but he wasn’t a user. I actually enjoyed my time with him, I picked on him often and made him laugh and eat “nasty fast food” and in exchange he made my morning coffee and told me stories that I promised not to share and haven't as of today.
Pat and I worked on an HTLVIII protocol testing a new virus that today is called AIDS, back then we used a SKD machine to separate the serum and study the virus in different medians, we had two patients that volunteered and provided regular blood samples, Pat was obsessed with interesting samples and often took small items home like a super positive GNIDC slide, or an excellent leukotic blood slide for his sample collection. Nancy told investigators that his sample of HTLVIII was intended to be used to kill the ADA who prosecuted him, and investigators took those samples and her story as evidence. Pat, I think was trying hard to get back to normal life, but nasty, spiteful, hate filled Nancy fabricated her way out of the marriage by using his history to remove him from her life.
I was there watching the day they searched his car in the parking lot at work and found that tiny joint, I watched his face as he gave up, put his head down and stopped fighting. It was a sad day.
Pat was convicted on felony weapons charges and went back to jail for 15 years. He wrote me a few times but stopped in early 1988.The really sad thing is that Pat was brilliant in the lab and was an excellent dermatologist. He was an odd human who didn’t really like many people but wanted to help those with skin issues. He to me was protective and a great educator, and deep inside that serious weirdo mind, he was like everyone else, a person who was just finding his way. He loved his wife Cristina and his little boy, Paddy and just snapped like people do when his wife stopped loving him and wanted someone new. I missed Pat almost immediately after he was arrested. I considered Pat a friend, one that I kept at arms length and never turned my back on but a friend nonetheless. Immediately the gossip squad began spreading crap, most of which was untrue and it made me angry, it also changed my view of the office and changed my desire to stay.
Funny how love stories always tend to be one sided.
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