From:
nearly died
to:
died.
I whispered:
“Who issued this?”
“That is where it becomes strange.”
The county record bore the signature of a deputy registrar named Neil Pruitt.
I knew him.
Everyone in our church did.
Neil owned Pruitt & Sons Funeral Home.
He served on finance committees.
Organized Christmas toy drives.
Handled my grandfather's funeral.
He was one of Dad's closest friends.
My blood went cold.
“Neil helped them.”
“We don't know the entire sequence yet.”
Mara said.
“But the death entry existed in the county system.”
“Then why didn't it destroy my identity?”
“Because the record was internally inconsistent.”
The local record used my correct name and birthday but an incorrect middle initial in a secondary electronic field.
The report that normally flowed to federal databases was rejected for mismatch.
Nobody corrected it.
The insurer relied on a certified copy and hospital documentation that someone had altered or selectively presented.
