“I’m calling because I may be aware of a crime that has been committed, however I am not certain a crime has been committed. At minimum, you may need to send some officers over do a welfare check.”

Moments earlier I was sitting on the couch finishing up some reporting for work when I became digitally distracted. As I scrolled through my Facebook feed I happened across a post from Mike B, a guy I used to work with a really long time ago. Mike B is not his real name.

I remember thinking about how back then Mike had this way of making himself look busy. I used to watch him as he would run to and from the mail room with his bluetooth headset on, he reminded me of Jerry McGuire, always closing.

My relationship with Mike could be best summarized as a wave every now and then, or a ‘how’s it going’ when our paths would cross in the lunch room.

“Jello again?” he’d ask.

“You know it”, I’d reply as I walked past him and back to my office. Somewhere along the line Mike sent me a friend request through Facebook. I accepted. He had 38 friends online but I suspect that number was fewer in real life. I used to like to think that he had a good heart, that maybe he was misunderstood because he was outspoken and often expressed unpopular perspectives on politics and religion.

Every so often if he posted a picture of his dog or something equally benign I’d throw him a bone and click ‘like’, a virtual wave of sorts acknowledging his existence.  His posts on Facebook were often cryptic and bizarre and he’d usually take them down shortly after posting them. There was one post of his that caught my eye that night as I scrolled through my feed.

“My soul regrets the things I’ve done and in the next two days I will do the most sinful thing I’ve ever done. When our Lord creator meets us all, we shall feel humbled.”

I had to reread the post a couple of times to try and understand what he was trying to say. It was full of typos and looked like it had been scribed in haste. I immediately sent him a private message.

“You ok, Mike?” I wrote. More words than I had said to him in nearly ten years.

He replied to my message telling me that his father had an advanced stage of Alzheimers and it had taken everything from him.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Mike. Your post had me concerned. I wanted to reach out to make sure you know that folks are here for you. You can send me a note any time.” Phew! My job here is done.

But it wasn’t. Mike told me that he had given his dad a cocktail of medications and expected to be arrested in the morning. “I think what I did was right,” he added. “Kate, delete me and have no connection to me.”

My stomach dropped. I sat crossed legged on the couch. Usually I know what to do, but I didn’t. My thoughts were moving a mile a minute actively trying to evaluate the situation and the implications of what he just told me, in writing, on a web-based application. I’ve watched enough episodes of Dateline to know that if in fact he had done what he claimed our conversation would become part of the public record.

I chose my words carefully:

“I am not sure how to respond to that Mike. I am not in a position to provide you with any advice on this matter concerning what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. However, if you have committed what would be considered a crime you should seek legal counsel.”

How could he do this to me. The guy thanked me for my kindness and suggested that I delete him from Facebook. Yeah, good call Mike, because the police couldn’t possibly reconstruct your deleted social media history on the night you killed your father.

At 11:30 I called the police two time zones over, 1:30 in the morning their time. I walked the officer through what I knew, emailed him screenshots of the conversation and then I went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. I was still running through all of the plausible scenarios in my head.

The worst that could happen to me at that point was that I would be called as a witness at his murder trial. I’d probably wear my navy jumpsuit with a blazer. Navy is a trustworthy colour. I would not opine on his mental state on the night in question. I would not crack upon cross examination. I would stick to the facts, just the fucking facts.

Thankfully it never came to that. I monitored the local newspapers and Mike’s Facebook for the next couple of weeks. He resurfaced and posted something about his father, who it seemed was still very much alive.

I have since blocked him on Facebook — fool me once, as they say. Well Mike, I won’t get fooled again.

Stay great!

Kate