Chapter 14 - Eleven Minutes
The difference was eleven minutes.
Not hours.
Not an entire night.
Eleven minutes.
Special Agent Mitchell sat across from me in an interview room and explained what investigators had established so far.
The first casualty notification from the ridge had been recorded at one time.
A subsequent medical-status update had been entered eleven minutes later.
The official summary provided to Nathan's family had compressed the events into a timeline that did not accurately reflect the sequence of reports.
I stared at her.
“Does that mean he could've been saved?”
Mitchell's expression remained careful.
“Medical experts are reviewing the records. A discrepancy in reporting doesn't, by itself, establish that a different response would have changed the outcome.”
I swallowed.
“But it matters.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because accurate timelines are essential to understanding what decisions were made and when.”
I looked at my hands.
“Did Brant change the time?”
“We're examining who prepared, reviewed, and approved the relevant records.”
I nodded.
It wasn't the answer I wanted.
But it was an honest one.
Mitchell continued.
“We've also obtained additional communications concerning the route change.”
I looked up.
“From Nathan's phone?”
“From several sources.”
“Did they confirm the order?”
“They support that Major Brant authorized the revised route despite documented safety concerns.”
I felt something loosen inside my chest.
For weeks, I'd been afraid the recording would be dismissed.
Misunderstood.
Explained away.
Now other records supported what Nathan had said.
Mitchell folded her hands.
“I also want to discuss your public confrontation with Major Brant.”
I stiffened.
“I understand.”
“Why did you play the recording during formation?”
I looked down.
“Because I was angry.”
She waited.
“Because he was humiliating me, and I wanted everyone to hear Nathan's voice.”
“Did you believe doing so would help preserve the evidence?”
“At the time, I thought it might stop him from denying it.”
“And now?”
I took a breath.
“Now I think I should've kept the original secure and let investigators handle it.”
Mitchell nodded.
“That's an important distinction.”
I looked at her.
“Am I in trouble?”
“I'm not here to make a disciplinary determination. I'm gathering facts.”
I accepted that.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
“Did Nathan die because of the delay?”
Mitchell paused.
“We don't have a final medical conclusion to share.”
I felt tears sting my eyes.
“Please don't tell me something just to make me feel better.”
“I won't.”
I nodded.
That was all I could ask.
Outside the building, I sat on a bench and called Daniel Mercer.
He answered after several rings.
“Hey, Erin.”
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
He laughed weakly.
“Still learning how to walk without looking like a drunk giraffe.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Nathan would've loved that description.”
“Yeah.”
We were quiet.
Then Daniel said:
“I gave my statement.”
“I heard.”
“I told them everything I remember.”
“Thank you.”
He took a breath.
“There's something I've been wanting to ask you.”
“What?”
“Do you hate me?”
The question hit me harder than I expected.
“Daniel, no.”
“If I hadn't fallen—”
“Stop.”
He went quiet.
I closed my eyes.
“Nathan went back because you needed help. That's who he was.”
Daniel began crying.
“I keep thinking he should've left me.”
My throat tightened.
“He would've hated hearing you say that.”
“I know.”
“He wanted you to live.”
Daniel was silent for a long time.
Then he whispered:
“I just wish he had too.”
May you like
I looked up at the gray Virginia sky.
“Me too.”
