Failing the Turing Test when Talking to Police

Every bad situation is always made worse by the presence of the cops

As a rarity in what I write, I will not bury the lead, although the initial description is tragic background. For the last four years and some, my partner Mary Ann and I have had a housemate, Robin. He was a friend and boyfriend of Mary Ann from college, and for many years thereafter. That ended, and decades went by before she learned of his by then desperate situation, financial, emotional, cognitive, and predominantly with alcoholism.

Mary Ann wanted to rescue him from his desperate life, and I agreed that he could stay here, where there is plenty of room in the house—gratis of course, as he had no money or real ability any longer—which he did until yesterday. Yesterday Robin died; I did not expect that would happen that day, but I did expect it would happen because of alcohol. Mary Ann found him dead in his room in the morning, although without immediately believing it was so.

I ran upstairs at her call, and saw his body as well, although also without the belief that he was actually dead. That seems somehow unrealistic, and I have never experienced it either. So in the hope of resuscitation, Mary Ann called 911 for EMTs, although we realized the truth in the minutes between the call and their arrival.

The EMTs, of course, immediately recognized that he was not going to be revived, but the police lingered trying to figure out how to handle the body. They noticed the injury on his head, which he had suffered at some point the night prior to the terminal one, falling down drunk on his way back from the bathroom, at least according to his report to Mary Ann during that last day.

I did not see him at all—as I commonly did not for days in a row, as he stayed in his room—but Mary Ann repeatedly urged him to go to urgent care, which he strenuously refused. He insisted, in particular, that he did not have a concussion, although obviously that judgment is of no relevance or value. She checked on him last at perhaps 11 pm on the night he later died.

The police stayed, indicating that they would need to summon the state police detectives because of the cut on his head. They knew relatively quickly—although apparently taking longer, and several calls, to figure out police procedure than would describe normal intelligence or familiarity with their own rules and norms—that the local mortuary would handle the body.

While lingering, and not contacting the local mortuary that they eventually managed to figure out would be the means of transporting the corpse, they asked us questions. And this is the point where we get past the background and to the actual topic of this post.

To outward appearances, police resemble human beings. They are predominantly bipedal, and with the body plan of homo sapiens generally. Moreover, they speak in their native languages (some in others as well), and compose sentences that are overtly relevant and that resemble reactions that human beings have to events, including traumatic events. It is very difficult to not, through an unconscious empathy or identification, perhaps an anthropomorphization, feel as if their questions and behavior reflect those a human being with a common range of emotions and sympathies would express.

This is a mistake that I fell into under the stress of the initiating circumstances. The police chief and the main officer on scene asked repeatedly about the nature of Robin’s fall the night before, and looked along the hallway for indications of blood. I kept falling into the habit of thinking that they were asking as would a non-sociopathic human— who would be disturbed by a death, even one of someone they did not know personally. I showed them the hallway, and looked along at doorknobs and dresser handles that might perhaps match the shape of the wound. I showed them the other hallway that it would seem unlikely that Robin would have gone down, but that also leads to a bathroom. And even at the overfilled hoarding junk/tool room that Robin kept, and that maybe possibly he had wondered into drunkenly. I never found any indication of where his fall had happened specifically.

But afterwards, I realized with regret at my lack of correct sense of the interaction that their only hope was to figure out a way to make the death into a chargeable penal offense, to somehow decide that Mary Ann or I had harmed him in some way.

The chief asked as well about any drugs he might have taken. I pointed out the rather voluminous jars of cannabis that he had piled in his room, and had grown last summer in our front yard (Maine, as most US states, has legalized its small-scale personal cultivation). That was dismissed with a somewhat cold comment of “I don’t care, that’s legal.” Somehow clinging to the hope that the question was somehow related to human compassion, or even simply curiosity about the circumstances, I tried to remember and asked Mary Ann, what prescription medications Robin had taken (which could be relevant in his death, of course). This was equally dismissed.

In retrospect again, I realize clearly that they had no concern whatsoever about some drug possibly contributing to his death in some manner, but solely and exclusively with the hope that I would have, and confess to having, some controlled substance for which they could arrest me. I had nothing so to indicate, nor would I have been quite so foolish to have boasted of it if I had.

It took about two hours for state detectives finally to arrive. By then, both Mary Ann and I had gone to the first floor of the house, mostly just to be farther away from the unease of being near the body. For better or worse, and probably like most people, I feel uncomfortable in that context. Well, felt, for the first time in my own life that such occurred (I have never even been to a funeral).

The state detectives, arriving one then another, spaced maybe a half hour apart after that two hours, didn’t really need to look for very long to see it was evident that this was not a situation of “foul play.” They spoke with us again, noted the text Robin had sent Mary Ann about his head injury the morning prior to his death, but relatively quickly left.

Finally, after perhaps four hours of wait, the funeral home director of this small town arrived, and with the physical assistance of the police transported the body out of the house.

When finally they were ready to leave, disappointed with inability to levy criminal charges or make arrests, they did a sort of final “debrief.” This consisted primarily of the main officer on scene elaborately explaining why he was so very right to act in the manner he had throughout the day. He made noises about the wound on Robin’s head requiring such.

Throughout the day, Mary Ann was far more devastated than I was. I never wished him ill, but my only experience of Robin, sadly was of an angry and resentful drunk. I tried to form some friendship over the last few years, but little actually existed. I am sorry for that reality, but I know he was so much more earlier in his life.

It seemed especially cruel, thereby, that the officer’s “closing comments” were to describe how they might give much less attention to the matter were I to die, and Mary Ann were later to call emergency services about that. Not cruel to me, so much, to contemplate my mortality or the like; but truly an awful thing to say to Mary Ann who was obviously, visibly, and rightfully distraught throughout the day. Whatever they may or may not know about the relationship between she and I, it was obviously one of intimacy and love. Of course, even this directly sociopathic comment was spoken with a saccharine sincerity, faintly emulating how a being of human emotions might speak.

One of the three officers then present forced out, sotto voce, a comment along the lines of “we are sorry for your loss.” Then finally they left. We were white, and older, evidently comparatively rich, and obviously clearly spoken and sober. So in the end, the police did not cause any fundamental harm to us beyond simply being what they are.

We do not know yet with any certainty what was the cause of death. The head injury was likely a concussion, and perhaps brain swelling or aneurysm resulted. One EMT in their brief time present suggested heart attack. I suppose stroke is a possible cause of such an event as well. I do not know if a medical examiner will make any particular examination, nor if it makes a great deal of difference in any direction.

We will mourn. Mary Ann has called a great many of Robin’s old friends and family, her family, and their mutual friends from years ago. Those who know her can certainly lend their good thoughts.