Oh, Happy Day
If you’re a longtime reader of mine, you know the past eight years I’ve written about a girl buried near my grandparents in Lafayette, California. Her name was Suzanne Bombardier, known to family and friends as Suzie.
I wrote a mini-essay on Defrosting Cold Cases, then I wrote an essay for Salon about what happened. This- and publicity around the 35th anniversary of her death-helped get her case reopened. Then one snowy night in Vermont (I was in my second and final year of graduate school) I was writing about Blondie’s Mr. Dithers and how he was used as a literary device when I received a message asking about Suzie. Irritated (I was really in the groove writing about Mr. Dithers) I kept ongoing.
Then my phone pinged. It was from one of Suzie’s detectives, Gregory Glod. He wanted me to call him right away. An arrest was made.
What I didn’t know that night was a trial would be a long time coming. A huge part of it was COVID-19 kept delaying everything. I tried not to think about it, but it was like trying to ignore the dancing tutu-wearing hippo in Fantasia.
When was it going to happen? Would it happen? I’ll be honest, I thought the suspect would die in jail from COVID.
But I had to keep busy. I worked on my story, Suzie’s story. Took several classes with writer Ariel Gore. Started working on a historical novel. I also worked on Marland Mondays, celebrating the life and career of Douglas Marland. Yeah, it’s a lot. But I had to write. I had to keep going.
Greg texted me a month ago saying “The trial is going to start at the end of the month.”
I thought wow. A cynical part of me thought “I’ll believe it when I’ll see it.”
On February 28th, I saw it with an article in the East Bay Times written by Nate Gardell. The trial had started. All I could think was oh boy oh boy oh boy. Here we go.
I had several medical appointments I couldn’t cancel, so I couldn’t go to the trial until the week of March 14th. I planned it out: I would arrive on March 16th. March 16th is my best friend Meranda’s birthday, so I figured out a plan: I would spend a couple of nights at a motel near the courthouse. The night of the 16th I’d have dinner with Meranda and her family, me being a surprise guest. I’d arrive for the closing arguments. I could stay and be available when the jury made its decision. It would work. I emailed Meranda’s parents Bill and Janet and told them my plan. They were in.
Then God decided hey! I need a good laugh. I need a good chortle.
Monday the 14th: I’m starting to pack. Have bought some toiletries. Bought my train ticket and motel reservations. Was watching Juno when I received a text from Greg: Change of plans. Closing arguments just happened. If I was going to come, I had to come a day early. The jury was going to get their instructions from the judge, then go deliberate.
It felt like I was underwater. I could hear some words: come early. Jury. Instructions.
I managed to get my train ticket changed, then rearranged the motel reservations. I texted Janet asking if I could spend the 16th at their house. Of course. I texted another friend of mine: This is it.
March 15th. The Idles of March. I woke up at 4:30, had breakfast, then off to my local Amtrak. I wore a mask that had on it Andy Warhol’s portrait of Jackie Kennedy. I needed her example of grace as close to me as possible. Boarded the train.
Slept for an hour. Then I wrote my Morning Pages. I couldn’t read, so instead I listened to music. On my YouTube I have a Music to Uplift playlist. REM’s “You Are the Everything” is on it, so is Godspell’s”Day by Day”
But the song I put on repeat was “Oh, Happy Day” by the Edwin Hawkins Singers. The chorus: He taught me how to watch, fight and pray(Fight and pray) And he’ll rejoice every day (Every day) (Every day)
It fit my mood. I’ve been watching, fighting, praying for years now. I needed to do it for another day.
I met Greg outside the courtroom. He gave me a hug, then we went in the courtroom. I saw Suzie’s suspect. I don’t want to name him; he is not the subject here. Suzie is; you can google her and his name will come up. He wore a blue sweater and gray pants. A black mask covered his face. My stomach turned. I sat down and listened to the Honorable Theresa Canepa give the instructions to the jury. She told them she had to leave at 3:30, but they could go until 4. They then went to deliberate.
Greg and I decided to stay, wait it out. Because of security reasons, we couldn’t talk about the case in the hallway. He texted friends and family. I did the same, then I read Matt Bell’s Refuse to Be Done.
After a while, I needed lunch. Greg stayed in the hallway while I ate, then got drinks for us. I finished Refuse to Be Done, then tried to read a new novel. But my stomach was on a tilt a whirl. My father told me the night before you have to prepare yourself he might be acquitted. I told him no, there was the DNA.
There was motive. But there was also that awful feeling of what if he’s right?
Around 2:30 I was nodding off. I decided to text Janet and have her and Bill pick me up at the courthouse the next day. Suddenly Greg was there. “We’ve got a verdict.”
Holy moly mother of pearl. Okay, a verdict. It had been four and a half hours, three for the jury because they took a lunch break.
The officers escorted the suspect back in. The jury walked back inside. They sat in their assigned seats. The foreman stood up, saying they had a verdict. It was in a big manilla envelope. I saw Suzie’s family. I saw the District Attorney Mary Knox sitting at the table. From what Greg told me the day before, she had down a knockout fantastic job with the closing arguement. I prayed.
Judge Canepa opened the envelope. She read what was inside. She nodded, then gave it to her clerk to read aloud. Suddenly I was underwater again, but I could hear one word again, and again: guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
The jury was polled. Guilty. Several of the woman jurors looked right at the suspect, made eye contact and said guilty. No fear in their eyes. I wanted to hug them.
I was in total shock. Greg texted a friend of his named Sue. She went with us to Starbuck’s, made sure I sat down because I was wobbly. Beforehand I saw one of the jurors sitting at a bench, waiting for their ride. I wanted to tell them thank you. Greg texted more people. I had called my mom, then texted Janet with one word: Guilty. While we sat at Starbuck’s, Nina Simone’s cover of “Suzanne” came on. The song made me think of Suzie because of course it was her name. In fact, the working title of the book I’m writing about us was for a while Our Lady of the Harbor. I told Greg and Sue, then I said “She’s here with us. She’s here.”
The next night I celebrated with Meranda and her family. I promised I would try and stay longer when I’d come back for the sentencing. When I came back home I felt melancholy. Everything felt so rushed. My stomach was still on a tilt a whirl. Yet I hadn’t cried.
It wasn’t until I watched Call the Midwife, when a woman whose son died a year before was back in the maternity home to give birth. She gave birth to a healthy daughter. We then heard Vanessa Redgrave say: “Often, in the spring, we cease to remember the winter that preceded it. The clouds and the rain are of no consequence at all. We look to each other for our sunshine. And that light is all there is. Where there was isolation, there is togetherness. Where there was silence, there is music. And where there was tribulation, there is peace of mind. Every season passes, in the end. Sharp shoots become soft leaves, and the fruit we wait for tastes the sweetest. Endure the grief, embrace the joy. All things come. This is how the world turns. This is life itself.”
And that’s when I took my glasses off, hit the pause button, and wept.
Nine years ago, I was visiting my grandparents’ grave when a man my age asked me for a pen. I didn’t have one. He walked away. I looked down to see who he was visiting. It was Suzie. It was Spring. The verdict came the day after what would’ve been her 56th birthday. A week later it the Spring Equinox. The world turned nine times since that day in the cemetery. All things do come. The ending of Suzie’s physical life was violent and undurable. But she is going to live on. She will live on with her family and friends.
It was a happy day.
Now my marching orders to you: Suzie loved to dance. Go dance for her. This is life itself.
