The Detective’s Daughter — Unquenchable Curiosity

Kim'spolicehatBy Kim Gray

In Baltimore City

Today we introduce Kim Gray, winner of the 2009 William F. Deck – Malice Domestic Grant. We met Kim at the Seascape Writers Retreat in 2009. Her stories of growing up as a detective’s daughter fascinated us and now she will be sharing them in a monthly column. Welcome Kim!

With a mother who grew up as a grave digger’s daughter, and a dad who was a homicide detective for over thirty years, is it any wonder I spend copious hours contemplating death? I can’t see an abandoned glove without wondering where the remains of the owner might be. Every discarded trash bag left along the side of the road has the potential for holding together a dismembered body. Even the innocence of a free floating balloon brings my thoughts to mayhem. I can not help myself.

kimbabypicAs a child, I didn’t spend a great deal of time with my dad. He worked everyday, after all, this was Baltimore City, a place synonymous with murder. Dad was a busy man. He was also a man of few words. There wasn’t a great deal of conversation during dinner, for my mom was also a quiet person. On the nights Dad brought home a folder of a case he was working on, well that was a treat. On those nights he actually talked with us. There was nothing he loved more than to discuss a case. I hung on every word and they seeped through my skin and into my bloodstream.

On occasion Dad would let me run an errand with him. We’d be driving down a street and he would point out locations where bodies had been found. Later in life I referred to this as Dad’s Homicide Tour. It was interesting and if he were alive today I believe he could have had an enterprising business.

kim's dadThe story I remember most clearly occurred near St. Paul street, in a very posh neighborhood. Dad pointed to a large Victorian house on the corner. “See that third floor window, over to the right? Well, we were called in there for a suspicious death. Parents claimed the boy hung himself. But I could see straight away it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The kid had a bruise around his wrist and the rope just wasn’t right. Found out within an hour the stepfather had a history of domestic abuse. He killed the kid, said it was accidental.”

So many stories were similar to that one. Hardly a street was passed without a story of some poor person and their final moments in Baltimore. As hard as I tried to pay attention, listen to every syllable he uttered, I wish I had written it all down. At the time it didn’t matter what he said,or what story he told. I only cared that he was talking, sharing a story and some time with me.

On a summer night a few years ago I was sitting at a red light in a very posh neighborhood of the city. My own children were very young and my dad had been dead three months.  Looming ahead of me was a Victorian-style mansion. “Hey guys, see that house?” I asked my kids. They were busy looking at books in the back seat. “Well, years and years ago Grandpa Charlie was the lead detective on a case there.”

And so the tour continues to this day,with me passing the torch to the next generation of homicide hunters.

Readers: Got a question for Kim? Ask away!

27 Thoughts

  1. Thanks to Ramona’s tweet, I think I just found a new blog to read! I was a police secretary for ten years so I can relate to looking for dead bodies in everything I see, lol.

  2. What a background to have, Kim. We’re lucky to have you sharing your stories with us. Whenever I read one, I know I’ll wonder how much comes with a grain of the stories told you by your parents.

  3. And this is what makes you such a fascinating friend. We have known each other since teaching together, well, let’s just say many years ago. I don’t recall this story. It could also be early onset dementia. Whichever it is, I love the story. Can’t wait to read more.

  4. Kim! Welcome! We’re thrilled you’re here. I love stories like this – my grandpa was a detective (though not homicide) but as a kid I would be enthralled with his stories, especially the one about the guy he shot who threatened to come get him when he got out of jail. (He never did.) My gramp has been gone for 15 years and not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could sit down with him and hear another story.
    Looking forward to next month’s column!

  5. Kim, I am so glad you are going to be joining us! You tell a great story, and are truly one of the funniest people I know! Thanks for joining us!

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