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Vanishing Man

Tim Pompey

JANUARY 8, 2009
JON BRYAN OPENING NOTES
VENTURA DAILY BREEZE
VENTURA, CALIFORNIA

    My editor, Tom Banks, assigned me to work on a missing person’s story for a feature he would like to run in a couple of weeks. He wants me to dig around, see what I can find out. It’s a very strange case involving a local high school football coach who left his house early A.M. last February and never returned. The case so far is dead ended. Understandably, the family is distraught and puzzled. I’m keeping a log of interviews and notes, trying to piece things together. This story is so odd that, if I can explain or solve it, maybe someday it might have legs as a book. You never know. People love a good mystery.

PRELIMINARY RESEARCH

    Malcolm Rose was a 42-year-old black male living in Port Hueneme with his wife and two children. He called a Yellow Taxi @ 5:30 A.M. on Monday, February 4, 2008 and was picked up at his house at 248 7^th Street @ 5:45 A.M. The driver took Rose down Pacific Coast Highway to Mugu Rock on the southeastern outskirts of Oxnard and dropped him off in the gravel parking lot at the base of the rock. The driver remembers letting him out @ 6:05 A.M. No one has seen Rose since.
    Rose worked at Hueneme High School as a football coach and teacher for fifteen years. The family seems solid in the community. Both are members of St. Paul’s United Methodist. Both are active volunteers in the community.
    His wife Dushana said there had been no recent medical changes in his life. He did, however, complain as early as January 28 about a very strange occurrence. He told her he was disappearing – as in body dissolving and fading. I’ve talked to a couple of psychiatrists up at Vista Del Mar Psychiatric Hospital. They can find no listing for this type of complaint in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual (DSM).
    Here’s the key question I will pursue: What plausible explanation is there for a man who tells his wife he is disappearing, then actually disappears?

INTERVIEWS

JANUARY 10, 2009, 10 A.M.
INTERVIEW WITH WIFE DUSHANA AND DAUGHTER JENEA
HOME OF MALCOLM AND DUSHANA ROSE

    Note: Rose’s wife Dushana is 40-years-old, very athletic looking. Hair straight, brushed back. Reminds me of a leaner, taller Oprah. Round face, expressive eyes, big smile. Very intelligent and to the point. Daughter Jenea is 16 and looks a lot like her mother. We’re in the kitchen drinking coffee, discussing Malcolm’s disappearance.

    Jon: When did Malcolm first talk about vanishing?
    Dushana: He was getting ready to go to school that Monday.
    Jon: January 28 –
    Dushana: Right, and I heard him in the bathroom, you know, shaving, that sort of thing. Suddenly, he called out, “Dushana?” We been married twenty years, so I knew there was something wrong in his voice, like he was afraid or something. I went in and said, “What is it, honey?” He was just looking at himself in the mirror and his eyes were wide like he’d seen a ghost or something and I said, “Honey, what’s wrong? What’d you see?”
    Jon: And then –
    Dushana: He just stood there like something froze him to the floor. He said, “Don’t you see?” And I ask him, “See what?” And he kept saying, “Don’t you see?” Finally, I must have sounded a little mad and I say, “What the hell you talking about?” and I laughed at him. “Don’t keep talking crazy,” I say, “keep repeating something without telling me. I don’t see what’s wrong with you, but then, I don’t know what you looking at.”
    Jon: You think he saw something in the mirror –
    Dushana: Exactly, and finally, he raised his arm in the air and looked real close at it, like he was inspecting himself, and then he said, “My skin.” And I say, “What about it?” And he say, “It’s . . . disappearing.” Now that really strikes me as strange, so I say back, “What you talking about? Don’t you go all Michael Jackson on me. You still coal black, blacker ‘n me, that’s for sure,” ‘cause, you know, I got a little cream to my color, kind of honey black, if you know what I mean. Malcolm’s dark, dark, like he was born in Africa. So, that’s where all the trouble seem to start. After that, he just got stranger and stranger.
    Jenea: Yeah, I notice, when he come out for breakfast, he had this look on his face, kind of sad, like someone he love just died. My daddy’s usually pretty strong. You know, six-foot-two, built like a linebacker, ‘cause that’s what he used to be in college. If he stare at you with them big ol’ eyes, you just want to escape. No one’s ever scared my daddy, but that morning, there was something different about him. I never seen him look like that.
    Jon: What do you think was happening?
    Jenea: I don’t know –
    Dushana: I told you. I think he saw something. What, I don’t know, but you can’t tell me, knowing him like I do, that he would act like that if he didn’t see something.
    Jenea: I heard him in the living room later that night when I was supposed to be asleep, just talking to himself, saying, “What’s gonna happen to my family? I don’t want to go.” Over and over like that. “I don’t want to go.”

JANUARY 13, 2009, 3:30 P.M.
INTERVIEW WITH HHS HEAD COACH BOBBY BRISTOL
HUENEME HIGH SCHOOL

    Note: Bobby Bristol is a tall white guy, mid 30s, blond hair, blue eyes, with an angular face and nose. He has a presence about him, like you would expect from a football coach who wants to be tough. He talks out the side of his mouth. We’re meeting at Hueneme HS after school in his office.

    Jon: Bobby, you spent a lot of time with Malcolm. You guys coached, worked, hung out together after school. What did you notice the last week you saw him?
    Bobby: He wasn’t the same Malcolm I was used to. I kept asking him, “Rose,” – that’s what we called him around here – “Rose, you look like a truck drove over you. What’s up man?” But I couldn’t get him to talk. You know, he’s not the kind of guy who complains anyway. Being a football coach and all, you don’t get there by whining. But I could tell something was bothering him.
    Jon: In what way?
    Bobby: Well, he was always kind of outgoing, loud sometimes, but in a good way. Always joked around with the kids. He could be tough – not mean, just straightforward and honest. Kids always knew where he stood, knew better than to cross him, if you know what I mean. But that last week, he was real quiet. Friday, I saw him sitting alone in the boys’ locker room after school. I came up and said, “Hey man, you look like your dog died.”
    Jon: Did he tell you anything?
    Bobby: Yeah, in a strange way, I guess he did. He looked at me and said in this low kind of voice, “Bob, anything ever happens to me, would you stand in, maybe help Dushana and the kids?” I tell him, “Sure, man, you know I got your back.” He just answers, kind of whispers, “Good. Good. I feel better now.” That’s all he said. Then, he just smiled, got up, and walked out the gym. That’s the last I saw of him.
    Jon: As far as you know, everything okay at home?
    Bobby: You mean was he happy? Was his home life good? You know, I probably spent more time with them than anyone here at school. Hell, he and I burned a lot of midnight oil at his house putting together game plans. I was his Assistant Coach, you know. We’d work till one in the morning. Dushana would put out a pot of coffee for us before she went to bed. We golfed together at Saticoy, hung out on weekends. Sure, like most married folks, sometimes I seen them get into little fights. They were both strong-willed people, but I’m telling you, he loved his wife and kids more than anything. He and Dushana were active over at St. Paul’s on C Street. Dushana sung in the choir. Malcolm volunteered with the youth.
    Jon: No financial problems, anything like that?
    Bobby: I don’t think so. You know, like everyone, they probably got caught in the recession. Rose didn’t get rich teaching high school, but Dushana, she’s an accountant over at Dutton and Brewster in Ventura. Makes a pretty good living that way. She’s a smart woman. Worked hard after the kids were born to get her CPA license. And she’s pretty good with the dollar. Rose used to joke, “She could squeeze a dime out of a nickel.”
    Jon: Any problem with the kids?
    Bobby: You mean Malcolm Jr., Jenea? Hell, I wish they were my kids. Malkie – that’s what we call the boy – he runs track at USC. Got a scholarship, you know. Jenea’s the star of the girl’s basketball team. Your paper listed her last year as All County. Yeah, they’re teenagers and Malcolm always ran a pretty tight ship, but he was a great father. Face always lit up when he mentioned their names. Jenea adores him. I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, Mr. Bryan, but there’s no problem with those kids that I can see. I’m like their Uncle. Since he’s gone, I keep a close eye. So far, so good, knock on wood.
    Jon: Dushana said he complained he was disappearing. Did he ever mention that to you?
    Bobby: No, never. I kind of heard about that later, you know. Doesn’t sound like something he would say. You know, the man was solid as a rock. They don’t come any tougher. Not the kind of guy you’d think would end up saying he was invisible or whatever. I don’t know what to make of it, him talking like that. Kind of weird. But the last week I saw him, something got to him. No doubt.
    Jon: You could tell he was distressed?
    Bobby: Yeah, being as quiet as he was, definitely something wrong. What, I can’t say. Really not like Malcolm, though.
    Jon: What?
    Bobby: Just to take off, no word, just –
    Jon: Disappear?
    Bobby: Whatever. I miss the hell out of him. He could have his job back, if I saw him walk through that door. I’d hand him the keys and say, “Let’s go.”

JANUARY 15, 2009, 11:00 A.M.
INTERVIEW WITH SENIOR PASTOR LYNDON LEROY
SAINT PAUL UNITED METHODIST CHURCH

    Note: Pastor Lyndon Leroy is tall, black, maybe mid 50s, very distinguished looking. Thin, square-jawed, greying temples. Seems so calm and self-assured when he talks. We’re interviewing in his church office.

    Jon: Did Malcolm come see you, or mention anything about what he was going through the week before he disappeared?
    Lyndon: Yes, he came to see me. I think it was Tuesday of that week. We had a good long talk. Very sad, what happened.
    Jon: Can you tell me what he was concerned about?
    Lyndon: Well, I guess you could say he was making a confession.
    Jon: About what?
    Lyndon: I can’t tell you that, Mr. Bryan. As you may know, confessions are very private – between God and me and the person doing the confessing.
    Jon: Had he ever done this before?
    Lyndon: Hmm, now that you ask . . . no, I don’t think so. But he was a regular at the church, and really so good with the kids. Did a lot of volunteering. Malcolm Rose was a generous man. Good for the community. Good here at St. Paul’s.
    Jon: Okay, but, obviously, something was wrong, or he wouldn’t have come to you.
    Lyndon: That’s a safe assumption, yes.
    Jon: Something on his conscience?
    Lyndon: You a church-going man, Mr. Bryan?
    Jon: No.
    Lyndon: That’s usually why people confess. We call it sin and repentance. Malcolm felt he needed to get some things off his chest and seek God’s forgiveness. We prayed together about it. I believe he left that day with a clean heart.
    Jon: Did he mention what may have pushed him to repent, besides just the sin part? Something else that may have caused him to seek help?
    Lyndon: All I can say is, he sensed his own mortality and realized, as some people do, that time was running out. God was asking him for a change of heart.
    Jon: Really?
    Lyndon: Sometimes, Mr. Bryan, a person, even a church-going person, can look and realize something’s missing.
    Jon: But you’ve already said Malcolm was involved in the church and, at least in my mind, a good person. So, what turnaround did Malcolm need in his own life? It wasn’t like he was out living dangerously, hurting people.
    Lyndon: Malcolm was a good man, but, like all good men, he wasn’t perfect. There were things he had on his mind that bothered him. For whatever reason, he felt the urge to confess. Sometimes, even for people of faith, God calls us to a deeper level of commitment.
    Jon: You mean becoming a priest, something like that?
    Lyndon: No. More about following God more closely in our daily lives. Nothing changes in our routine except we become more aware of God and try to live a better life.
    Jon: But something pushed him to be aware of that. You’ve said something was troubling him.
    Lyndon: Yes.
    Jon: Something made him aware of his mortality.
    Lyndon: Yes.
    Jon: Do you know what that was?
    Lyndon: Yes.
    Jon: But you’re not allowed to tell me.
    Lyndon: I can’t tell you what he told me, no.
    Jon: Would it have anything to do with his fear that he was disappearing?
    Lyndon: (Pause) So you know about that?
    Jon: Yeah, from several people. It seems to be what drove him to get in the cab and go down to Mugu that morning.
    Lyndon: I can tell you that he mentioned it to me. I can tell you that it may be what drove him into my office. Disappearing, however, is not a sin. It may have been the pebble that caused the landslide, but Malcolm was here to confess. Beyond that, I can’t tell you anything else.
    Jon: Well, putting two and two together, maybe the disappearing part made him reexamine his life?
    Lyndon: I think you’re very smart, Mr. Bryan, probably pretty good at figuring these things out. I would guess that’s why they put you on this to begin with.
    Jon: I’d like to figure out what happened to Malcolm. And if he’s got something to hide, well, that’s just part of the process.
    Lyndon: I don’t object to you inquiring about Malcolm, but if you do find out things beyond these church walls, all I ask is that you be respectful of the Rose family.
    Jon: I appreciate that, Pastor, but I’m trying to help solve a mystery here. If we learn what happened, good or bad, it might bring Malcolm’s family some peace.
    Lyndon: Mr. Bryan, as you may know, some kinds of knowledge are good and some are destructive. Now, I know you have some idea of right and wrong. Figure out which is which and seek the good.
    Jon: You mean, if I figure out the sin, keep it quiet?
    Lyndon: I mean, Mr. Bryan, if you can bring Malcolm back, or tell us where he’s at, that’s good. If you use his life, whatever secrets he had, to further your own career, or the career of your newspaper, that’s bad.
    Jon: We all have our jobs, Pastor. Yours is confession. Mine is news.
    Lyndon: Doing good always trumps ambition, Mr. Bryan.
    Jon: Seeking truth is not limited to the Church, Pastor.
    Lyndon: Then seek truth wisely. That’s all I ask.
    Jon: I wish I could believe you. Sounds more like a coverup to me.
    Lyndon: Well, that may be, but what’s being covered up, Mr. Bryan, is a very sincere and heartfelt confession. Malcolm confessed and Jesus forgave him. He left here a redeemed man.
    Jon: There’s no redemption to this story, Pastor, until we know what really happened to Malcolm, and why.
    Lyndon: Then I wish you Godspeed in your quest.
    Jon: I don’t need Godspeed. What I need is evidence, some of which you’re hiding.
    Lyndon: Then, Mr. Bryan, I’ll pray that something more apparent comes your way.

JANUARY 19, 2009, 9:30 A.M.
INTERVIEW WITH LEAD DETECTIVE RICK ORTEGA
ASSIGNED TO INVESTIGATE ROSE DISAPPEARANCE
OXNARD POLICE DEPARTMENT

    Note: Detective Rick Ortega is short, stocky, muscular, square face, very intense eyes. Crew-cut hair. He’s come to this interview dressed in a coat and tie. Probably a neatnik. He also has the typical cop-like wariness about talking to me. We’re in a conference room just down the hall from his cubicle.

    Jon: Detective Ortega, can you tell me the status of the investigation?
    Rick: Ongoing.
    Jon: Can you tell me what you’ve done so far, in general terms?
    Rick: We had the crime lab comb the parking lot where he allegedly disappeared. We’ve interviewed the family to get a sense of his state of mind at the time. We’ve notified all relevant agencies, law enforcement and otherwise, that we have a missing person. At this point, we’re waiting for some new leads. Obviously, we haven’t located him. So, as I said, the case is ongoing.
    Jon: Can you tell me if you’ve got any solid leads?
    Rick: I’m not trying to be rude, Mr. Bryan. I think you know I can’t answer that question. I’ve already told you. It’s an investigation. I can’t share any privileged information with you.
    Jon: Any special persons of interest you’ve questioned?
    Rick: We interviewed the family for informational purposes only. We talked to a lot of his friends too. Same reason. Do we suspect foul play? We don’t know one way or the other.
    Jon: You don’t think any of his friends or work associates were involved?
    Rick: At this point, I have no reason to suspect anyone close to Malcolm was a part of his disappearance.
    Jon: Seems kind of strange, doesn’t it? A man like Rose, respected in the community, well-liked, just disappears?
    Rick: Mr. Bryan, I don’t mean to sound cynical, really, but every day someone goes missing. I’ve got a six-inch stack of fliers and faxes piled on my desk. Husband, wife, child. I’ve been a detective for ten years and I know this kind of thing happens more than we care to admit. People suddenly kidnaped, tortured, murdered. Sometimes we figure it out. More often, we don’t. And sometimes, hard as this sounds, people just vanish – for no obvious reason.
    Jon: What about his claim that his body was disappearing?
    Rick: Uh – as far as we know, Mr. Rose had no serious physical or emotional problems in his life.
    Jon: Except his claim that he was disappearing?
    Rick: Except for that, yes.
    Jon: Anything you know of that would explain that?
    Rick: No, no clue at this point.
    Jon: Seems kind of odd, don’t you think?
    Rick: Trust me, in my line of work, I’ve heard stranger things.
    Jon: Do you believe it’s possible?
    Rick: What?
    Jon: To disappear like he claimed.
    Rick: We’re proceeding as if he’s still alive, until we get confirmation otherwise – and I’m assuming that we’re still looking for his physical body. So, no, I don’t believe he disappeared. (Pause) What about you, Mr. Bryan?
    Jon: What?
    Rick: Do you believe he just vanished?
    Jon: Frankly, Detective, I don’t know what to believe. I just think it’s weird that he claimed he was vanishing and then, right under our nose, that’s exactly what he did.
    Rick: We stick to the evidence, Mr. Bryan. Do yourself a favor and keep that in mind.
    Jon: The evidence hasn’t told us anything yet.
    Rick: We may never know where he went, but what we do know comes from evidence gathered, not speculation. If we keep at it, sooner or later the evidence will speak.
    Jon: Until then –
    Rick: It remains an open case.
    Jon: An unsolved open case.
    Rick: But still a case.

JANUARY 20, 2009, 11 P.M.
INTERVIEW WITH MANUEL FELIX, TAXI DRIVER
YELLOW TAXI CAB SERVICE

    Note: Manuel Felix is a short, wiry Hispanic who immigrated here from Guatemala. He has a thin oval face, curly black hair, eyes and facial expressions that are quite intense. When he gets excited, he swings his arms around. I’m catching Manuel in the lounge just before he’s ready to go out on night-shift.

    Jon: You were the last person to see Malcolm Rose before he disappeared.
    Manuel: I guess so.
    Jon: What can you tell me about that trip down to Mugu Rock?
    Manuel: It was the end of my shift, actually my last trip. From what I remember, I picked him up at his house. Trip took about twenty minutes or so. City streets, all that.
    Jon: What about Malcolm himself? Anything strike you as odd or different?
    Manuel: What, outside of going to Mugu Rock at six in the morning? That’s kind of strange to me.
    Jon: I’m more interested in Malcolm, how he looked, what he said, that sort of thing.
    Manuel: I remember he was big – and black. And he kind of walked like he was dragging himself through the mud. Sat in the back, didn’t say nothing that I recall. Just sat and stared out the window.
    Jon: Really? No conversation?
    Manuel: Well, the only thing I remember, I asked him, “What’s at Mugu Rock?” and he just said, “I’m leavin.” “Leavin?” I say. “Leavin where?” But he never answered. Just kept saying, “I’m leavin.” Guess he wasn’t kidding.
    Jon: Did you see anyone else in the parking lot?
    Manuel: No, man. It’s Monday, fuckin six in the morning. Who else would be there at that hour?
    Jon: So, it’s not like he was meeting anyone?
    Manuel: No. I’m telling you, when I dropped him off, he was alone. Maybe he had other plans for the day. I don’t know.
    Jon: Nothing out of the ordinary with his physical appearance?
    Manuel: Other than he was big and black and walked funny, no.
    Jon: When you dropped him off, where did he walk to?
    Manuel: I don’t know. I wasn’t his baby sitter. I took him where he asked, he paid me, that was it. I left to go home. What else can I tell you? Was it strange? Yeah, but no stranger than some other places I’ve taken people to. At least he was sober, didn’t give me any shit, and he paid me.
    Jon: You mentioned he walked like he was dragging himself through the mud? What do you mean?
    Manuel: Kind of slow, his back seemed bent, like he wore a heavy backpack or something. And he shuffled like someone, you know, maybe can’t walk straight, something wrong with his legs. I figure maybe he was crippled or something. I even got out, opened the door for him. Maybe that’s why he didn’t say much. Maybe he couldn’t talk right.
    Jon: Interesting –
    Manuel: What’s interesting about it? Happens to people all the time. I get people in wheelchairs, walkers. You know, old people, slow as molasses. I don’t think much about it.
    Jon: According to his family, he was a very healthy man.
    Manuel: Not the morning I picked him up.
    Jon: You’re sure of that?
    Manuel: Yeah, I got an eye for that stuff. You do this job long enough, you learn. I’d say he had something like MS, maybe some other kind of problem. I know about that. Had a cousin with it once. Really terrible. Rose looked just like my cousin Eddie before the poor bastard got tied to a wheelchair.
    Jon: That bad, huh?
    Manuel: Early stages at least. Man was definitely not right.
    Jon: But he could still get around.
    Manuel: Sure, or I wouldn’t have left him there.
    Jon: You were anxious to get home.
    Manuel: I did my job. He got where he was supposed to. End of story.
    Jon: He went missing.
    Manuel: I didn’t stuff him in my trunk or nothin. I let him out and drove away. That’s what people do when they take a cab. Get in, get out.
    Jon: I know, Manuel. It’s just you were the last to see him. I’m trying to get as clear a picture as possible.
    Manuel: I give you what I know. I can’t get no clearer. Now, if you don’t mind, I got work to do.
    Jon: Okay, thanks.
    Manuel: You’re welcome. Hope you find the guy.

JANUARY 22, 2009, 7:30 P.M.
SECOND INTERVIEW WITH DUSHANA ROSE
ROSE RESIDENCE

    Note: This is my last interview with Dushana. I’ve shared my latest information. She’s looking at some of my notes, trying to piece together a picture of her husband just before he disappeared. We’re back in the kitchen drinking coffee.

    Jon: Now that I’ve updated you with what I’ve found out the last week or so, is there anything else you can think of that may have affected Malcolm, pushed him over the edge so to speak?
    Dushana: I don’t know, Mr. Bryan. Obviously, the man was more troubled than I knew about. It’s true, you know, my Malcolm could be all sewn up sometimes. But I knew how to coax things out of him. You stay married long enough, you learn how your man ticks.
    Jon: I’m interested if you noticed anything physically wrong with Malcolm.
    Dushana: Well, now that you mention it, he did walk a little slower. I thought maybe he was just tired. Malcolm’s a hard worker, really puts himself into coaching and teaching. Sometimes even the strong have to slow down. But the walking thing, that’s news to me. If Malcolm was crippled, he didn’t tell me. And for it to happen in a week –
    Jon: He was still physically active?
    Dushana: Well, we played golf that Sunday before he first complained. Eighteen holes worth. That active enough?
    Jon: Can you tell me anything about his visit with Pastor Leroy?
    Dushana: Nothing other than he spent some time with Pastor Lyndon. We’re good friends with the man. He and Malcolm sometimes go out for coffee. So, I don’t think nothing about it if he decides to go visit. Man wants to talk with his pastor, that’s a good thing to me.
    Jon: Pastor Leroy described it as a confession.
    Dushana: Well, he’s a pastor. That’s what pastors are for. Talk sin, talk golf. Either way, when you talking to a man of God, nothing’s out of bounds.
    Jon: I don’t know. This seemed different, almost life altering, like Malcolm was getting ready to die or something like that.
    Dushana: Then whatever he said was between him and God. All I know is, he was a good man. I never had no trouble with him. He loved his family. He loved me. Even before we married, he was straight. Not the kind of guy you picture as a football player. No boozer, skirt chaser, that sort of thing. I never see him stray far from me. Me and him, we pretty tight.
    Jon: Okay.
    Dushana: You know something I don’t?
    Jon: No –
    Dushana: ‘Cause if you do, tell me straight out. I sure as hell don’t want to see it splashed across your paper before I know about it.
    Jon: No, Dushana. As far as I can tell, you’re right. Malcolm was a good man.
    Dushana: Good. Let’s be respectful of his memory, all right? Don’t be printing things you know nothing about.
    Jon: I wouldn’t do that.
    Dushana: Well, some people would. I hope you’re different.
    Jon: You have my word.
    Dushana: Well, now, you asked what kind of shape he was in. Just to make my point, here, you can see for yourself (reaching under the TV). Here’s a disc we made of his last birthday party, the Saturday before he disappeared. He just turned 42. You watch this and tell me if this is a man burdened by sin. He’s laughing, joking, happy. It’s the last time we spent together as a family. You can see for yourself, he’s in a good mood.
    Jon: Okay, let’s talk about this one last thing. Why would Malcolm go out to Mugu Rock?
    Dushana: Well, before all this happened, it was his thinking spot. Sometimes in his spare time he’d go out there alone. And during football season sometimes he’d drive out early morning to clear his head, think about the team, brace up for a big game.
    Jon: Really?
    Dushana: Yeah, lots of times we’d take picnics out there, sit at the base of the rock, look across the ocean. He always say, “Dushana, if I could fly like a bird, this would be the place where I take off.”
    Jon: So the place was that special to him?
    Dushana: Yeah, it was. (Pause)
    Jon: What?
    Dushana: Well – and this is a big if – if he thought he was actually disappearing like he say, and I’m not admitting he really was, you know, ‘cause it just ain’t possible for a man’s body to do that, but if he thought he was disappearing, like in his head, then it would make sense. If he believed he was leaving this earth, that’s probably where he’d go. He might think that’s where he’d enter eternity.
    Jon: Really?
    Dushana: If that’s the case, and he made his peace, and he was thinking that way –
    Jon: You think that’s where he’d go?
    Dushana: Yeah, I guess. If that’s what he thought, then maybe, just maybe, it makes sense.
    Jon: He’d want to, say, disappear at that spot?
    Dushana: If he had a choice, yeah.
    Jon: Well, that seems to be what happened. At least that’s where he was last seen.
    Dushana: (Pause) Rose, my sweet angel. What did you do?
    Jon: You mean where’d he go?
    Dushana: No, what he did – thinking about disappearing and not even say goodbye?
    Jon: Maybe he couldn’t bear to say it.
    Dushana: Maybe he couldn’t say it.
    Jon: What?
    Dushana: Maybe what he first say to me was the truth and just none of us believe what he saw.
    Jon: You mean, you think he actually disappeared?
    Dushana: You tell me, Mr. Bryan. Knowing Malcolm, knowing the story, what else could it be?
    Jon: Really, Dushana, I have no clue.
    Dushana: You don’t wanna believe either, do you?
    Jon: You have to admit. It’s pretty hard to imagine.
    Dushana: Well, then, what else could he say? If no one is listening, there’s no point in talking now, is there? No point in telling someone where you going if they don’t believe you.
    Jon: Probably not.
    Dushana: Well, then, maybe now you solve the mystery after all.
    Jon: But to just disappear . . . it doesn’t make sense.
    Dushana: Lots of things in life happen and don’t make sense.
    Jon: So you’re satisfied with this explanation?
    Dushana: If he do this because he’s telling the truth, I can live with the rest.
    Jon: Even not knowing where he went?
    Dushana: No, Mr. Bryan. I just told you where. And if I know that, I don’t need to know all the whats and whys. I just leave it be and go on with my life.
    Jon: You’re convinced?
    Dushana: Given what we know, Mr. Bryan, it’s as good as any other explanation I got.
    Jon: But it’s just so strange –
    Dushana: If what he say was true, then yes, it’s strange. But, he wouldn’t be the first man this happen to.
    Jon: Excuse me?
    Dushana: People like Elijah, Jesus –
    Jon: What happened to them?
    Dushana: They got whisked up to heaven, and if that’s the case with my Malcolm, then he’s an angel now.
    Jon: Angel?
    Dushana: He’s with God. Can’t get any better than that.
    Jon: Just because he disappeared?
    Dushana: Better than the alternative.
    Jon: Which is?
    Dushana: Suffering, dying, Mr. Bryan. You and me, here on this earth. Happens to all of us sooner or later.
    Jon: Except for Malcolm –
    Dushana: Malcolm been blessed. (Pause) You and me, we still got a long road ahead, but maybe my life be easier now that I know who’s waiting for me.
    Jon: Guess that’s one way of looking at it.
    Dushana: We all should be so lucky.
    Jon: Yeah, lucky.

JANUARY 26, 2009, 7 P.M.
JON BRYAN’S CONCLUDING NOTES
PRIOR TO DEADLINE SUBMISSION

    A few new clues, nothing conclusive, nothing to explain this strange disappearance, except what Dushana sees as some type of holy transfiguration. I have to say, this case just gets more strange every time I think about it. At the risk of sounding repetitious, here’s what I know:
    Malcolm Rose saw something in his bathroom mirror the morning of January 28, 2008 that convinced him he was physically disappearing. What caused this, no one seems to know. Pastor Leroy hints something was troubling Malcolm, enough to seek him out and make a sincere confession. Whatever confession he made, there’s no evidence Malcolm was in trouble. What’s evident, however, is that he was carrying something around that week, a burden of some sort.
    On the morning of February 4, 2008, Malcolm called the Yellow Taxi Service early in the morning and asked to be driven down to Mugu Rock. The driver noticed that Malcolm looked crippled. His last words to any human that we know of: “I’m leaving.” Malcolm was dropped off in the Mugu Rock parking lot. That’s the last anyone has seen him.

ARTICLE CONCLUSION
VENTURA DAILY BREEZE
SUNDAY EDITION
FEBRUARY 1, 2009

    I took a trip out to Mugu Rock this week, about the same time of morning as Malcolm before he disappeared. It still nagged at me. Why Mugu Rock? If he was disappearing, or dying, why wouldn’t he choose to be with his family instead? As I walked over to the cliff and watched the sun come up, the reason became clearer.
    Dawn was breaking and the black outline of the Santa Monica Mountains was slowly joined by a faint blue light. Then, off to the east, the first yellow rays of daylight appeared and revealed the most amazing display of colors – blues, yellows, dark lavenders – and against that backdrop, the eternal blue spread of the Pacific Ocean, as if it was a long, wide carpet.
    If you stand at the edge of the cliff in the parking lot, you can look straight down and watch the waves break against rocks shaped like giant shark’s teeth. If you turn around and look up, the jagged face of Mugu Rock juts up like the nose of a space ship. If you look southeast, you can watch the joining of the mountains and ocean by a beautiful bridge of light. It’s a reminder of the sturdy presence of the earth, the fluid horizon of the ocean. Together these two make up life as we know it: a solid existence, an eternal viewpoint.
    If Malcolm saw his life fading, it makes sense that he would slip away here. The facts don’t speak to the whole story. How he disappeared is still a mystery, but perhaps this case demonstrates that humans are more complex than facts. I would argue, then, it might be more than just metaphorical to say that, on Monday, February 4, 2008, sometime after 6:05 A.M., Malcolm Rose – solid citizen, devoted husband, loving father – stepped to the edge of this parking lot. As he took a last long gaze over the horizon and inhaled a fresh breath of salt air, by some mysterious means he vanished.
    Whether he was whisked into eternity to be with God, or leaped over the edge into the ocean, was kidnaped or magically dissolved into thin air, we’ll most likely never know. I would be willing to bet, however, he’s never coming back.

EXCERPTS FROM DUSHANA ROSE’S DVD
MALCOLM ROSE BIRTHDAY PARTY
FEBRUARY 2, 2008, @ 8 P.M.

    Dushana: Hey, Malcolm, smile for the camera, would you?
    Malcolm: How’s this? My teeth white enough for you?
    Dushana: Oh, you look good with that little dunce cap sitting on your shiny black head.
    Malcolm: (Smiling) You make fun of me, I’ll put this cap somewhere you don’t appreciate (Laughter around the room).
    Dushana: Hey, don’t you be mouthing me or you won’t get no birthday cake.
    Jenea: (In the background) Oooo, Daddy, I think you’re in trouble –
    Malcolm: (Laughing) Your mama don’t scare me none. She know I’ll give her plenty to smile about tonight.
    Unknown
    female voice: Ohhh, Dushana, your husband is an animal.
    Dushana: Yes, he is, but I’m the lion tamer in this family. He knows where his meals come from.
    Malcolm: (Mugging for the camera) Grrrr. Meow!
    Dushana: That’s better. Happy birthday you big ol’ pussy cat.
    Malcolm: (Smiles, makes a claw out of his fist) You my owner, now, ain’t you?
    Dushana: (Laughing) And don’t you forget it.
    Malcolm: Well then, you better feed the beast. Jenea, where’s my cake?
    Jenea: Right here, Daddy.
    (Oooos from guests and family as the cake appears. As Jenea lays the cake on the dining room table, everyone sings happy birthday.)
    Malcolm: Now that’s what I’m talking about. My little girl done baked me a man’s cake. Someday, with a cake like this, she gonna drive some poor boy crazy – with loooove.
    Jenea: Daddy –
    Dushana: All right, Malcolm, make a wish . . .

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