murder and the hit-and-run, respectively. Their reports are expected next week. “I know there’s anger in the community,” Seemann says. “I know there’s pain.” Beyond that, he doesn’t want to talk about the Warren case now. He’s in pain, too. He doesn’t say so but you can see it in the shadows around his eyes. You can hear it in his quavering voice when he talks about Suzie’s memorial, which was attended by Dorothy Ulrich’s mom and sister-in-law, or about the outpouring of support from the community. But he’s not focusing on the pain or on the criminal reports that have yet to be released. “Right now blame does nothing for Suzie, does nothing for my family, does nothing for the community.” Instead he’s focusing on his wife, surrounding himself with memories of her, looking at photographs of them together as insecure young students at MIT, as bride and groom, as park rangers in Yosemite’s Tuolumne Meadows, as proud and happy parents. He pulls out a plastic Sterilite tub and snaps off the lid, revealing some of Suzie’s belongings: an old park ranger uniform; a book called Extraordinary Chickens; a medal she got for finishing the Santa Rosa Marathon; a T-shirt for the “Garfield Gallup” kids’ run that she helped organize for her son’s elementary school; a stuffed animal from her childhood; a map of Yosemite; the program from their wedding … . Seemann holds each item for a few moments before setting it down and reaching for another. It’s as if, by taking each one in his hand, he’s making them glow with life, like breathing on hot embers. The weather was beautiful in the days after her death, and Seemann spent a lot of time outside, walking. He says he experienced moments of clarity in those first few days that revealed the path he needs to take with Malcolm and Evelyn. It’s the same path they were already on with Suzie. “It’s us as a family, and staying together as a family,” he says. “And Suzie is part of that family.” Seemann can’t imagine healing. That word doesn’t make sense to him. He thinks more in terms of recovery, a willful act, the way you might recover from a hurricane. One hour at a time, you just pick up the pieces. l
northcoastjournal.com • North Coast Journal • Thursday, Nov. 15, 2012
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