the shattered thoughts of Raymond DeeKay

The Last Day

I know that it seems over the top to begin my blog with those three words, but looking back now (over six years ago) that day really does feel like it was the last day that I felt normal.
It was the last time that I woke up and had a whole day ahead of me that was not filled with corpses, autopsy tables and blood.

You may have already noticed that it was Christmas Eve. Indeed it was and I would like it to be known that I was in no way a Scrooge when it came to the festive season. Far from it. Christmas was my favourite time of year, and more often than not I got the time off from work to enjoy it with my girlfriend.

Without wanting to dwell on this thought for too long (for your sake as well as mine), I should like to point out that it seems incredible to me now that the last ‘normal’ Christmas I ever had was in 2001 - a full year ago - and all the preparations and serious thought into presents had been a complete waste of time.

My Captain (a fabulous chap by the name of Deacon - who you will hopefully meet later, should this blog last) had very kindly given me three days off so I enjoyed an incredibly lazy lie-in. Even my cat couldn’t wake me up, although I eventually had to feed the little bastard after he sat on my head!

I lived, during this time in Shepherds Bush just off from the Empire where I saw Gary Numan play several months before the time I am speaking. I had moved there for obvious reasons - the location - not just for the tube to work, but also for the location to my girlfriend who was just down the road. We had always lived too far apart before.

None of this is that important. In fact, I am getting bored writing about it. You see, I don’t want you to know where I live, how many girlfriends I’ve had, whether I get on with my parents. I don’t care about that.
What I do care about is what happened to my life after the events of Christmas Day 2002.
Why have I chosen to do this in a blog? Mostly because I feel it is time. Partly because it is a form of therapy for me. Maybe it will be something for you too? I don’t care. This is for me - if you like it, great.

Another important reason is that this case I am about to tell you about was huge in 2003. The BBC covered it as well as ITN and Channel 4 News. I’d never been on the TV before and suddenly there I was.

What the TV didn’t say was how messy the investigation got, how many good people died trying to do their jobs and protected those whom they loved. The TV also ignored the fact that so many innocent people died as a result of Christmas Day 2002.

And why have I chosen to start the blog this way, with the last day? Because I want you to have a sense of who I was before the 25th December. I lived in Sheperds Bush, had a girlfriend, went to Gary Numan gigs and even had a fucking cat, for Christ’s sake!
The most exciting case I’d ever worked was a kid being pushed down some stairs because of some drugs.

Nothing like this.

My memory is fractured - you’ll understand why if you read later entries - as parts of the case come back to me in sections. I will try to keep this blog as chronological as humanly possible, but I will refer back to days and jump forward occasionally as and when I see fit.

This first entry is important as it is a commitment now - I must write this down.

All of it.

RDK