In my 25 years of life, I have come to understand that the only things I can trust in life are facts. Life, and everything we have come to understand in society, is based off rules and principles constructed to help us survive and thrive. There is a type of methodical beauty to it. Scientists have tried, failed, and tried again to understand how the world works. I knew that life followed these principles and that is how I taught myself how to search for the truth as a hematologist. I search for the answers within the blood proteins, to me it’s the closest thing that I could get in terms of facts. I thought that I could trust the facts; however, that all changed after that dreary night at the hospital. It was a warm October night and I was at Mercy Hospital with my mother. I gazed at her warmly. Her skin was grey, faded, and freckled. Years of taking care of my father, brother, and I had clearly taken a toll on her and it was evident that her time was coming. Everything about her seemed to …show more content…
He was a good student, and quiet, just like everyone else. He took care of me and made sure that I stayed focused. He jokingly called me “Sherlock” because of my interest in solving mysteries. At age 13, I was really fascinated by the science behind blood sampling, so Adrian had set up a small lab for me in our house’s basement. So, why would the police believe that my genial brother committed this crime? It must have been in the blood tests, where the results were misread. Since I had my own blood lab, I requested a sample for myself from the police crime lab. Then, discretely I collected my own sample from the scene of the crime. I had the two samples tested and found inconsistencies between the police sample and the one I collected from the crime scene. I had proved to myself that my brother wasn’t present when Jody was killed, but that didn’t address why he disappeared or why the police had a vendetta against