By Anthony Fleming
On Sunday, September 7, 2003, at around 9:30 AM, I wake up to the insipid chirping of a Nextel Direct Connect alert rising from a pile of clothing in the corner of my bedroom. After spending the weekend celebrating my birthday with a combination of binge eating and drinking, I am just hoping to sleep in a little longer that morning.
Something is wrong.
I strain to pull myself out of bed and find my phone in a pair of jeans under the pile of clothing. I immediately regret the number of vodka cranberries I enjoyed the previous night. Through the haze of my hangover, I see that it was Ron, a co-worker, alerting me through the phone.
“Hey Ron, you there?” I ask over the walk-talkie.
After a slight pause, I hear a chirp and Ron responds, “Hey Anthony, yeah. Sorry to bug you on a Sunday, but I don’t know what else to do. Trevor left a note at our apartment some time last night saying that he is going to kill himself. He’s not here, his car is gone and we don’t know where he is.”
Oh God.
The haze of my hangover suddenly dissipates in the gravity of the situation. I pause and try to figure out my response. I hear another chirp of the walkie-talkie, “You there, Anthony?”
“Yeah…sorry, Ron. Let’s meet at the office to see what we can do. As I drive there, I’m going to call Glen. Is that okay?” Ron and Trevor both directly reported in to Glen. I thought it best that his manager be aware.
“Can I call him instead?” Ron chirps back.
“Absolutely. Give him a call and I’ll meet you at the office as soon as possible.”
I quickly get dressed and run to my car. As I drive to the office, my thoughts turn to Trevor. I know he is a pretty young guy, though I don’t know his exact age. Aside from the typical daily work interactions, I once bumped into him at a Tori Amos concert at the Hard Rock Hotel. I chatted with him briefly at the concert during the intermission after the opening act. What I remember most from the conversation was when I asked if he was a fan of Tori Amos; he rolled his eyes and said that he really didn’t care for her music, but his boyfriend was a huge fan. That’s when I first learned about Trevor’s personal life: he was gay, had a boyfriend and was willing to make some pretty painful sacrifices for love. I’m the first to admit that if you’re not a fan; a Tori Amos concert can be pretty painful. I remember saying just that to him and he laughed. “I’ll survive,” was his response with a straight face, as we headed back to our respective seats.
Typically, the twelve-mile drive to work would take anywhere from 30-60 minutes on a busy weekday, depending on the flow of traffic and construction on the I-215. Fortunately, the light Sunday morning traffic helps and I make it into the office in about 20 minutes. I immediately spot Ron and Blake at their desks. I approach Ron’s desk and Blake rolls over on his chair. Fortunately, only a few scattered employees are working in the call center since Sunday has such a low call volume.
I quickly find out that Ron, Blake and Trevor all share a three-bedroom apartment. Ron tells me that he reached Glen, their manager, and he was on his way to the office as well. I ask Ron about Trevor’s note and Ron tells me that it basically reads like a will. The note states that he wants his car to be sold and that money should be combined with his savings and given to his younger brother. I ask if Trevor gave any reason why he would want to cause himself harm.
“Well…” Ron says with hesitation, “He said in the note that nobody ever loved him. I know his boyfriend broke up with him a few months ago after cheating on him. His father committed suicide when he was young and his mother has been living on welfare her entire life. He basically raised his brother and did all the housework for his mother.” He pauses and then states with trepidation, “He has been talking about killing himself for a while.”
At that point, Ron’s voice started to crack. He cleared his throat and said, “I really should have done something earlier. Whenever he’d talk about it, we just told him that he didn’t mean it. I mean…we just thought he was depressed about his break-up.”
“There’s nothing you could do.” As I hear the words escape my lips I regret them. At that point, all I could conjure for a response was a bad cliché. There is no handbook for handling these situations. You make it up as you go along. I knew I could offer no real comfort other than hope. I quickly follow up by saying, “But there has to be something we can do now.”
“Well, we were only able to track his last cell phone call to a cell tower near our apartment around 12 AM. There are no phone details records after that. So, Glen called Judy. She can pull some strings with corporate to see if we can ping the phone.”
“Ping?” I ask.
“Yeah, we can actually send a signal to the phone to see if we can locate it, but it will only work if he has the phone and it’s powered on. Those are two big ifs.”
“Sounds like it’s worth a try. Hopefully, we’ll find him quickly” I respond trying to stay positive.
At that point, Glen rushes into the office. I look at him and he looks in the direction of my office. I turn to Ron and Blake, “Thanks guys, I’m going to talk to Glen really quickly in my office.”
I run to my office and Glen’s waiting there. I sit in my desk chair and power up my computer by force of habit. Glen closes the door behind me. “Have there been any updates?”
“No, we’re just waiting for Judy to get to the office. I’m not sure what else we can do right now.”
Glen hesitates for a second and says, “I think I’m going to go look for him. He loves to shoot guns out in the desert on the way to state line – semi-automatics and handguns…”
“Semi-automatics?” I interrupt loudly, “Are those even legal?”
“In Nevada, yeah…you know almost everything is legal here. Anyways, I think I want to drive out towards state line to see if I can find him.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
“Yeah, keep an eye on Ron and Blake. I’ll go let them know that I’m going to look for Trevor.”
“Thanks. Give me a call on my cell if there is anything that I can do.” At that point, I log on to my computer and started cleaning out my e-mail inbox to keep myself busy. I knew it wasn’t going to help the situation, but it would at least distract me from my own thoughts. If I can just focus on some work, I won’t have to think about Trevor. Worse yet, I may start to think about my own battle with depression, internalized homophobia and some of the dark thoughts that passed through my mind when I was younger.
How old is he, anyways?
I log onto the payroll system and look at his payroll record. I’m dumbfounded and speechless. I feel my eyes water and lump forming in my throat. He was born in 1983.
Fuck, he’s 20. He can’t even legally drink yet. He’s got his entire life in front of him. Please God, I know I haven’t prayed since I was a child, but please help Trevor.
I sit with my eyes closed; hands folded beneath the desk and start praying through a rosary in my mind.
5 Hail Mary’s and then 1 Our Father. Or was it the other way around? No, I think that was it. Fuck.
Just then, Judy approaches my office, “Hey Anthony. Are you okay?”
I hesitate, “I’m fine.”
Shit…did she notice the hesitation?
“I’m fine.” I say, as if repeating it makes it truer or more sincere. I know that I must maintain my composure and focus on the task at hand. “Were you able to ping Trevor’s phone?”
“Oh…I’ve got a couple of calls in to corporate. Fortunately, I have cell phone numbers for a few folks. Since its Sunday it’s tough to get a hold of anyone. I checked his cell phone records again and still no calls since midnight. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” She turns around and heads back to her desk.
For the next hour, I try to find things to do to keep my mind occupied. First, I am the bearer of bad news. I call Glen’s department manager, Isabelle, and the director of the call center, John, to make sure they are both aware of the situation. They both express sincere concern and offer their assistance. I tell them that I will update them when I have more information. Then, I finish cleaning out my e-mail inbox for work. I also clean out my personal e-mail inbox. I check in with Judy, Ron and Blake. When there was nothing left to do, I am again left with my thoughts. And so I begin to pray and barter with God while staring blankly at my desk. I make promises of returning to church and taking on volunteer work or community service. I think promises of doing good may somehow convince God not to allow something so terrible to happen.
My cell phone rings. I look down and see that Glen calling.
“Hey Glen…any luck?”
Glen hesitates and then says, “I found him…”
“Oh, thank God. Is he okay?” I ask with candid idealism.
“No.” Glen hesitates again. I realize that he found Trevor’s body. I can feel my heart sink into my stomach so low that I think I may become physically ill. My eyes begin to mist and the lump returns to my throat. “No…he’s dead. The police are already on the scene. I’m going to be here for a while. Can you talk to Ron and Blake?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it taken care of.” At that point all I can think about is Glen finding the body of one of his employees. Not just one of his employees, but a twenty-year-old kid with so much potential. I know that I must do whatever I can to help Glen. “I also gave Isabelle and John a heads up. Would you like me to call them as well?”
“No. You know…I can call them as I wait for the police to finish with the scene.” His voice continues to crack and shake as he talks. “I just think someone should really talk to Ron and Blake in person.”
“Absolutely. I’ve got it. Give a call if I can help with anything.” As I hang up the phone, I realize that I will probably be doing the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I know that I must be concise and kind.
Just rip off the band-aid.
I look out at Ron’s desk and do not see either of them. I alert Ron on his phone and within moments, Ron and Blake are sitting across from my desk, staring at me wide-eyed. I can see the hope in their eyes. I look at them and fumble through the words in my mind. I have trouble maintaining eye contact.
“Glen called.” I can hear my own voice shaking. I clear my throat. “Glen called. He found Trevor.”
“Is he okay?” Ron asks, reflecting my own hope from only moments ago.
I clear my throat again and can only let a very quiet, low “No.” escape my lips. I begin to find the strength to say, “I’m sorry…if there is anything that I can do…” but it was too late. They knew nothing more could be done for Trevor. They got up to leave my office before their emotions overtake them. I watch tears roll down Ron’s cheek as he leaves my office. I follow them out of my office, but instead I walk briskly to the restroom. I splash cool water on my face and look in the mirror.
Keep it together.
I return to my office and moments later, Judy passes by, “What happened?”
I clear my throat again trying to speak clearly. “I’m sorry, Judy. I should have come to see you sooner. Unfortunately, Glen found Trevor’s body. It’s too late.”
“Oh my God…” she gasped.
“I know. If I can ask a big favor of you. Please try to keep this as confidential as possible. We will likely not be able to tell the team until they return to the office tomorrow. We would probably want to tell them first before other employees find out.”
“Absolutely. I’m sure some people will find out, but that’s the least I can do.” She pauses for a moment and looks me in the eye. “Are you okay?”
I look at her with a moment’s hesitation. I wish I could divulge my inner most thoughts. I would love to hug her, let the tears roll down my cheeks and feel my shoulders rattle in a full sob. I want to tell her about how the image of his face has already started haunting me as I picture him saying the words, “I’ll survive.” However, I cannot topple the walls that took so long to build. I work in Human Resources. My emotions must remain completely separated from my work. All I can do is take consolation in the fact that someone was so kind to express their concern for me during this time of tragedy.
I simply respond by saying, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asks with skepticism, tilting her head and continuing to look me directly in the eye. I don’t know if she saw the lack of sincerity or just instinctively knew that this situation would be tough for anyone to handle.
“I’m fine.” I say again, continuing to lack any genuine sincerity. “Thank you, though, for asking. It’s very sweet of you.” I say with all the sincerity in the world. I knew the weeks ahead would be tough and many people would never fully recover from this tragedy. I also knew that all we could do is take small comfort where ever we can find it. I found it in the genuine concern and kindness of a co-worker I hardly knew before that day.
If I worked with you and you’re able to piece it together despite the pseudonyms, I ask that you help me to maintain the confidentiality of those involved. I struggled with posting this entry, the potential issues of confidentiality and the benefit of helping people to understand the importance of the work of The Trevor Project and my upcoming fundraiser. I am not just hoping to raise money for this wonderful non-profit organization; I hope to also raise awareness of suicide prevention in the LGBT community.
FOR MORE INFORMATION, CLICK HERE.
