A 94-year-old man stops breathing while sitting in the back of a limo taking him to his 89-year-old wife’s funeral. Their daughters naturally decide to hold a joint funeral.
Not till the fifth graf, however, do we get this excellent piece of information:
After the limo pulled up, funeral director Jim Gariepy, who is also the local coroner, and funeral home owner Elizabeth Nichols-Ross helped move Norman to the sidewalk outside the business.
But wait, there’s more.
Gariepy began CPR while Nichols-Ross and one Norman’s sons-in-law raced across town to retrieve his do-not-resuscitate orders from the Hendricksons’ refrigerator door. Once the orders were in hand, an emergency crew that had arrived ceased attempts to revive Norman. He died on the sidewalk.
Doesn’t it strike you as a conflict of interest to have CPR administered by a coroner-funeral director? “Oh, he’s dead, sorry. All right, let’s get him on the table.” (And how ’bout the son-in-law knowing exactly where the DNR was? “When’s the will reading?”)
Do you think Gariepy ever has second thoughts about a particular cut made during an autopsy, wondering how the hell he’s going to patch it for the open casket?
Also, doesn’t the funeral home owner’s name sound suspiciously, if not appropriately, like the author of this book?