Estimated height: six feet. Underweight at 107 pounds. Dehydration, malnutrition. Initial EKG revealed tachycardia at 143 BPM… Stable tach most likely from anxiety/fear from recent captivity. Primary trauma: not speaking yet. Multiple lacerations on limbs, torso, neck. Multiple contusions on back, chest, abdomen, buttocks, backs of thighs. Signs of sexual assault. Trauma to genitals. Trauma to right shoulder; possible prior dislocations. No current broken ribs; sign of prior breaks. Three broken fingers; signs of trauma and repeated breaks. Sensitivity to light. Bloodwork shows traces of cocaine.
I leaned back in the chair and sipped on my coffee as I glanced over this list again. Though succinct, it was void of the pages and pages of history that caused all of the entries. I pulled my phone out and looked at the images Sam had sent me. Even though the age was listed as “unknown,” I could tell that he was a very young man. This meant that he probably had a family that had been looking for him.
“Did any possible hits come up for our John Doe in the missing persons database?” I asked the woman beside me.
“Nothing came up.”
“He’s young enough,” I commented.
“I know. The FBI is handling it, though. They are supposed to be sending a detective over in the morning to talk to the five of them.”
“I don’t want anyone talking to these patients without one of our counselors present.” I pulled my chair closer to the desk and put a flag on each one of the Trinities so the staff was alerted. Being in the position that I was in, I could require it.
“You’re the boss, Dr. Brooks,” she teased.
“Damn right. Are the others at least talking?”
“Yes, the others have all be able to give their names and respond when spoken to. One of them has family on the way.”
My attention focused on the screen again, and I clicked on the additional notes and observation section.
FBI called in and spoke to Dr. S. Chisholm to prep ER for his arrival. Man was found shackled at the wrists in an iron cage. Man was not physically strong enough to stand or step over the sides of the cage.
I looked at the photo of the young man in the cage that Sam had forwarded me from FBI evidence. He was curled up, naked, and bound by cuffs to the sides of the cage. His eyes showed uncertainty; I was sure he was afraid that they’d leave him. His knees, elbows, and shoulders all stuck out to me because he was so thin. There was part of another agent in the photo and judging by his height in proximity to the young man, I’d say the top of the cage was two and a half feet tall, at best.
My mind started to wonder how long he’d been in the cage. How long had he been with them? How had he gotten there? Was it by choice, or was he abducted? He was so pale and gaunt. How long had it been since he last saw daylight, or even been outside under the warm sun?
A gurney being wheeled in from the radiology hallway caught my eye. When Sam went to meet them, I knew that was my John Doe. I logged out of the computer and stood. From my pocket, I retrieved my staff badge and attached it to the lapel of my button-down shirt near the top button. Trust would be everything for this young man. If I showed up in his bay without visible credentials, I was as good as the enemy. I picked up my coffee cup and headed over to meet this young man.
I stood at the foot of his bed and watched him while nurses and Sam hooked him up to the monitors. He had bright blue eyes that held despair and instantly grabbed me. I watched his mannerisms for a few moments. He tried to watch what everyone was doing, but he kept lowering his head. At this juncture, I believed it was out of fear and possibly shame. Frankly, there were too many people in his bay. Granted, they were all trying to help him, but his delicate situation only required Sam and one nurse on standby to assist. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them to look around again.Exhaustion? The lights?
“Can you hold out your arm, sweetheart?” the nurse, Stacey, asked him.
He grew more nervous and restless, and though he wasn’t keeping his arm from her, he wasn’t offering it up. He was scared. By the looks at the needle abuse to his arms, there was probably a good reason.
The young man’s attention shifted from Stacey to another nurse who reached for his other arm with a damp cloth to try to clean him. He whimpered and pulled his arms close to his chest, protectively.
This was too much for this young man right now.
Sam stood bedside and watched the monitors. I wasn’t a physician, but I had enough training to know when a patient’s physical vitals were stable. This young man was physically stable, but he needed some compassion and emotional care immediately.
“Kerry, would you kindly go get me a comfort pack, please? His cleaning can wait,” I said calmly. “Can you substitute the crayon with a thick marker please?” I quietly requested as she started out of the bay.
“Of course. I’ll be right back,” Kerry said with a smile.
My voice caused Sam to pull his attention away from the monitors. He was bright; he knew what was going on. This young man needed a different level of care.
“Stacey, can you dim the lights a bit?”
As Stacey stepped around Sam, he murmured for her to stay close to the bay and that he’d call out to her if he needed assistance. Good. We had removed the non-essential hands from the equation. I downed my last sip of coffee and then tossed the foam cup in the trash bin opposite the bed.
The young man looked at me for a moment and then lowered his head. His pulse was sure humming along, and I wanted to see if we could calm him emotionally and if it would have an effect on the beats per minute.
He had splints on a few of his fingers, but I could still see his hand flexing against his gown. At just one hundred and seven pounds, his body was lost in the gown. I smiled at him, and he lowered his head again. He kept his arms tucked close to his body. His heels were flat on the bed, and his knees were elevated. It gave him a sense of security.
It’ll be okay, my friend. You’re safe now.
Kerry returned with the comfort pack that I’d requested, and as she handed it to me, I thanked her and told her we’d let her know if we needed assistance. I was very pleased to see that Kerry had set the blanket bear between the heated throw. I set the shrink-wrapped pack on the side table along with the plastic wrapped blue marker before setting the warm throw over his bare feet. As I removed the clear plastic from the bear blanket, I introduced myself to him.
