Exotic Dancer

I think a Private Investigator is a Crisis Manager.
By the time we get involved in things, the situation has gone beyond grim.
I once considered changing the name of my detective agency to Triage. I felt... and feel.... like I am in a war zone every day. A MASH unit, just trying to keep a victim's hope alive.

I am a one-hit wonder of an Personal Injury Investigator.
I sweep in, get the whole story and swoop out.
I get all the facts and all the paperwork I can -- like police reports, medical bills, witness names, their scene sketches.
I take photos of victims, measure and photograph scenes, places, vehicles.
I talk to witnesses, visit roadside grave sites and mourning parents.
Then I write up, deliver my case to the the law firm... and step away.
Unless.... I am called too do further investigating, or to testify...which I hate doing.
(Some Investigators enjoying being on the stand, or the limelight. Not this one.)

I prefer the beginning, the point where the door opens and no one knows what to do next and why.
I enjoy building trust; then breaking a problem down into components and tackling them one at a time.
And I relish in the knowledge I've gathered over the years because I have so much information in my head to share. I am truly an Investigator on a mission -- to inform, to educate, to help injured people understand their legal rights and resources.

Doctors, lawyers, Indian Chiefs, insurance agents, teachers, cab drivers, truckers, police officers, fire-fighters, construction workers. White collar. blue collar, hospital collars... these are my clients. Most living, some barely. A few dead.

When I saw Lindy I was struck instantly by both her youth and beauty. She was 24, tall, long blond hair to her waist, gorgeous blue eyes... perfectly, symmetrically arched eyebrows... bright red full lips. Movie star face.

Her body was magnificent, a work of silicone art.
Her face was flawless, I asked her secret.
She said she used olive oil and swore off Botox.
Being 24 didn't hurt either, I thought.

After I showed her my ID, I said, "To look at you on the outside, no one would suspect you got hit by a truck."

She smiled weakly and said, "That's precisely my problem. No one has any clue how bad I feel."

"I do," I answered as she led me into her living room.

She was a single lily white mother of a curly black-haired, olive-skinned daughter.
I met the daughter when Lindy's mother walked her into the apartment from the daughter's school bus stop.

Lindy told me, before her mother and daughter got there, that her mother was crazy and did weird things.
"Mom's seriously manic depressive" she said, "Just ignore her, okay?"
I nodded.

Lindy's mother was hard to ignore when she pulled up a chair right in front of me and stared me in the face.
She demanded to know who I was.
Lindy being an adult, was entitled to her privacy. My job was to protect it.

I told Lindy's mother I was Lindy's Investigator and I was here to help an attorney help her daughter. I said our meeting was private, and I promised I would not hurt her daughter in any way. I showed her my state license, gave her a little sell on my background and Manic Mama went into a back room with Lindy's daughter.

The facts of Lindy's accident were this:

Lindy, was driving and her best friend was her passenger. They were driving the kids to the state fair when a female drunk driver in Pick Up ran a red light and turned in front of them. This resulted in Lindy's hitting the DEF driver head-on. Both Lindy's airbags deployed. Both vehicles were towed.
Everyone was taken to the ER by ambulance.
It was a a good case in terms of liability.
Lindy's tire marks showed how she tried to stop.
The police report cited the DEF driver for making an illegal turn... and for turning a on red light.
It was clearly not Lindy's fault.

I filled out the requisite form the lawyers gave me.
I got to the part where I ask,
"What do I put down as your profession?"

She looked me straight in the eyes and said "Exotic Dancer, though really that's just fancy for stripper"
I was impressed.
I usually got more hesitation, or embarrasment, with such revelations.
I asked who she worked for.
She told me the name of a big club here in Seattle.... and she said goes to Las Vegas conventions.
I asked how many days of work she missed since the collision.
She said three.
I asked how much money that added up to.
She said between $4500 to $5000 for 3 nights.

When I said "Wow..."
She said "Yeah, I went to school to be legal secretary. I found out how much they make and saw what my friend was making as a stripper. I thought... I can dance, what the hell? So I got two boob jobs, some extensions and now I'm doing great. Or was until the accident."

I asked her if there was "light duty" associated with her work.
She laughed, and said, "Honey you try pole dancing, cracking a whip, or crawling all over a stage with a back and neck injury."

She was hit by a Ford Pick Up that was totaled. Her Volvo was totaled. Both her airbags deployed. I know when steel vehicles get totaled, human flesh, muscles, tendon, nerves and bones do too. I told her that and she started to cry.

She was in enormous pain, she said. Her lower back was excruciating. Plus her chest, where she had the implants, was aching. She thought one of the implants may have moved or burst. She promised to get to her plastic surgeon in the morning. She promised to have her spinal column examined. She'd already been to the ER two times.

This story doesn't really go anywhere except to an unknown end.

During my interview with Lindy, we had two more room visits by her Manic Mama and I deflected all her questions.

As I said my good-byes, I gave Lindy my phone number, I said, "hold onto this so I can check out your 8 year old daughter's boyfriend in about 10 years."
Lindy thought that hysterical and said she may need me to check out her next honey.

Then I went to the tow yard which they were holding open for me so I could photograph her car. Full airbag deployment evident, frame bent, windshields cracked. What a mess. And what a miracle everyone survived.

Though I am not allowed to talk to a lawyer's clients about money, there's no law against thinking about it. Driving home, I assessed the case.
There appeared to be good insurance companies and policies in place.

I found myself wishing for a huge settlement for Lindy, something that will get her from where she is, to the next stage of her life... when aging takes its inevitable hold... and the guys no longer tip as much... and your body is no longer your best commodity.

I thought how quickly the bloom of youth fades.
That's when the best asset you have is your brain and how you use it.
This is how I use mine.