Extreme Punishment

While walking briskly across his front yard toward Dan's house, Jim could see that the white door to his neighbor's two-car garage was raised. Peering inside, he glimpsed the rear of a black car and noticed its motor running. A sense of relief washed over him. Logically, Jim thought, there couldn't have been a burglary attempt if Dan was in his car about to back down the driveway. He abruptly reversed course just before reaching the vehicle and returned home. After telling Sharon what he'd seen, Jim stood at their living room window, transfixed, waiting to see the black car back down the driveway. His sight line, however, was somewhat restricted, with Dan's garage not visible at all. Another five minutes passed, but still no car. Jim was now pretty sure something was wrong after all. He should have backed out by now, he told his wife, who was still fiddling with her iPad on the love seat. Something doesn't seem right. I'm going to head back over there to see what's going on. As he neared his neighbor's garage a second time, Jim found the garage door still up and the black car still running inside. This time, he decided to enter the garage and walk up to the driver's side to make sure everything was okay. He expected to find nothing more ominous than Dan talking on his cell phone, but that isn't even close to what Jim Geiger found. As he came within a foot or two of the driver's side door, Jim felt and heard crunching beneath his shoes, which was startling enough. He then noticed that the door's window was shattered, a large portion missing entirely. The only glass that remained intact was fractured in a spiderweb pattern, surrounding two-thirds of a quarter-sized hole in the upper right-hand corner of the frame. Small, jagged shards were scattered on the garage's concrete floor, what Jim had sensed crunching beneath his feet. In that brief instant, he realized a gunshot had blown through the glass window. Oh my God, he thought to himself, his relaxing day off with his grandkids suddenly thrown into a tailspin. Standing beside the car door, he cocked his head to peer through the shattered window. What he observed was utterly horrifying. His neighbor, Dan Markell, was slumped over, behind the steering wheel, the left side of his head covered with a thick layer of blood. More glass shards surrounded him inside the car. It was obvious he'd been shot, though unclear whether his head wound had been self-inflicted or the result of an assault. Jim wondered whether Dan had become so despondent over his divorce with Wendy that he'd opted for suicide. Danny, what happened? he shouted through the broken window. No response. He could see Dan's head rocking ever so slightly from his left shoulder to his right, suggesting he was still alive, but perhaps unconscious. Danny, Danny, what happened? Jim hollered more loudly this time. Still nothing. He realized further attempts to arouse his neighbor would be futile. His heart, now pumping furiously, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but then remembered he'd left it on the coffee table. Jim rushed back home a second time, this time in a frenzied panic. Sharon could see the terrified expression on her husband's face and asked him what happened. Not wanting to alarm his granddaughters, Jim held his right index finger up to his temple, his thumb pointed upwards to demonstrate that Dan had been shot, telling his wife he needed to call for help right away. He tried mashing 911 on his phone as he raced out the front door, inadvertently dialing 9-1-1-9 instead. He corrected his mistake. A dispatcher came on the line as Jim stood amid a pile of shattered glass beside the driver's side door of Dan's Honda Accord. The call connected at 11.02 a.m.