Ve: What did you tell him?
Va: I said that at that point such a question was meaningless, because our options were all still open. I told him he would need an operation. I should point out that at this time I had no knowledge of his coma and his extraordinary – almost miraculous – recovery.
Ve: And what was his response?
Va: He said there would be no operation. He was quiet but very, very firm. No operation.
I said that I hoped he would reconsider, because to turn such an operation down would be to sign his own death-warrant.
Ve: Did Smith make any response to this?
Va: He asked me to give him my best opinion on how long he could live without such an operation.
Ve: Did you give him your opinion?
Va: I gave him a ballpark estimate, yes. I told. him that tumors have extremely erratic growth patterns, and that I had known patients whose tumors had fallen dormant for as long as two years, but that such a dormancy was quite rare. I told him that without an operation he might reasonably expect to live from eight to twenty months.
Ve: But he still declined the operation, is that right?
Va: Yes, that is so.
Ve: Did something unusual happen as Smith was leaving?
Va: I would say it was extremely unusual.
Ve: Tell the Committee about that, if you would.
Va: I touched his shoulder, meaning to restrain him, I suppose. I was unwilling to see the man leave under those circumstances, you understand. And I felt something coming from him when I did … it was a sensation like an electric shock, but it was also an oddly draining, debilitating sensation. As if he were drawing something from me. I will grant you that this is an extremely subjective description, but it comes from a man trained in the art and craft of professional observation. It was not pleasant, I assure you I… drew away from him… and he suggested I call my wife because Strawberry had hurt himself seriously.
Ve: Strawberry?
Va: Yes, that’s what he said. My wife’s brother … his name is Stanbury Richards. My youngest son always called him Uncle Strawberry when he was very small. That
association didn’t occur until later, by the way. That evening I suggested to my wife that she call her brother, who lives in the town of Goose Lake, New York.
Ve: Did she call him?
Va: Yes, she did. They had a very nice chat.
Ve: And was Mr. Richards – your brother-in-law – was he all right?
Va: Yes, he was fine. But the following week he fell from a ladder while painting his house and broke’ his back.
Ve: Dr. Vann, do you believe John Smith saw that happen? Do you believe that he had a precognitive vision concerning your wife’s brother?
Va: I don’t know. But I believe that it may have been so.
Ve: Thank you, Dr….
Va: May I say one more thing?
Ve: Of course.
Va: If he did have such a curse – yes, I would call it a curse – I hope God will show pity to that man’s tortured soul.
5.
and I know, Dad, that people are going to say that I did what I am planning to do because of the tumor, but Daddy, don’t believe them. It isn’t true. The tumor is only the accident finally catching up with me, the accident which I now believe never stopped happening. The tumor lies in the same area that was injured in the crash, the same area that I now believe was probably bruised when I was a child and took a fall one day while skating on Runaround Pond. That was when I had the first of my ‘flashes’, although even now I cannot remember exactly what it was. And I had another just before the accident, at the Esty Fair. Ask Sarah about that one; I’m sure she remembers. The tumor lies in that area which I always called ‘the dead zone’. And that turned out to be right, didn’t it?
All too bitterly right. God … destiny providence… fate… whatever you want to call it, seems to be reaching out with its steady and unarguable hand to put the scales back in balance again. Perhaps l was meant to die in that car-crash, or even earlier, that day on the Runaround. And I believe that when I’ve finished what I have to finish, the scales will come completely back into balance again.