A detective story

Discussion in 'The Watering Hole' started by Jock Elliott, Oct 26, 2015.

  1. Jock Elliott

    Jock Elliott SC All-Pro

    Jan 3, 2012
    Troy, NY
    My wife and I enjoy walking at Oakwood Cemetery in Troy, NY. It’s a huge place (over 300 acres), quiet, full of mature trees, wildlife, wandering paved and unpaved lanes, and, of course, lots of graves and monuments, some dating back to 1848.

    Yesterday, we took a stroll there, and we were on our way back to the car when my wife said, “What’s that?”

    On the ground was a 1-gigabyte camera memory card encased inside some sort of plastic packaging. There was water inside the packaging as well. “Leave it,” I said. “It’s probably ruined.” But my wife insisted we bring it home and try to resurrect it.

    Early this morning I looked at the packaging, and there seemed to be less water inside. I took out the memory card, wiped it off, and put it on my desk. Late in the morning, I took another look at it. There didn’t seem to be any water seeping out of it, so I took a chance, put it into a card reader, and slide the reader into the USB port on my computer.

    The “import pictures” wizard opened, and I choose the “open folder” option. There were several directories inside, all empty. But one folder was labeled DCIM, and inside it were three folders with hundreds of pictures. Some had only numbers, but some were labeled – someone’s graduation (first name only), a folder named “Florida trip,” some birthdays and other events, even someone’s “tick bite.”

    Clearly these were personal pictures, important to someone, but how could I discover who lost the card? I cruised the pictures, looking for clues, with little luck, until I found three pictures labeled Oakwood Cemetery. One of the images was of a gravestone, a recent gravestone, from the look of it, that of a woman with a long, unusual name (which I won’t reveal for privacy sake).

    I searched for her name and found her obituary. It said that she had been survived by her parents, who lived in a nearby town. A search of her father’s name and town produced a phone number. I called, assured the woman who answered the phone that I wasn’t selling anything and asked if Samuel Miller was home. He came to the phone, and I asked if he had lost a camera memory card.

    “I’ve been looking all over for that,” he said. I’m happy to report that Mr. Miller left El Rancho Elliott a few minutes ago, smiling.

    Cheers, Jock
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  2. Nicely done
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