Acts of Violet(57)
CAMERON FRANK: I might have to put together an entire mini-sode of these sound bites. Oh, here comes Sasha Dwyer with her husband and daughter.
SASHA DWYER: Thank you to everyone who has come out to pay their respects to Violet. Our family appreciates the ongoing support.
CAMERON FRANK: And there she goes. I wish I could describe her facial expression, but she’s wearing huge sunglasses, as she typically does at these gatherings. Is she hiding tears? Anger? Indifference?
I’ve been to every one of these vigils, and I’m always drawn to Sasha, wondering what she’s thinking and feeling as everyone pays tribute to her sister. Is it a comfort to know Violet’s memory and positive influence live on, or does it open old wounds?
It’s one thing for us to lose a beloved performer under mysterious circumstances. It’s another to lose your sister that way. To be in a perpetual state of limbo, unable to know what emotions to channel into the void. Should Sasha be mourning a death and fighting for her sister’s abductor and killer to be brought to justice? Or should she be recovering from the cruelest trick of all—pseudocide—and coming to terms with Violet faking her own death? Or could there be an even more outrageous alternative?
I can’t imagine what it must be like to live with that kind of ambiguity. Do you double down on looking for answers or make peace with the question marks? Do you create your own scenario to offer a kind of false closure? If so, is Violet alive in that scenario or has she passed on? Or does she exist in a state where she could simultaneously be considered both alive and dead, a Schr?dinger’s sister of sorts?
These are only some of the things I wish I could ask Sasha.
[FEMALE VOICE 3]: Is that a bee? Why the hell is there a bee buzzing around in February?
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: A cluster of local news vans dot the edge of the park and I walk by a petite blond anchor being filmed in front of the crowd, dodging and waving around her free hand.
[FEMALE VOICE 3]: Sorry, could we take that again? I need to get away from this bee, I’m deathly aller—fuck! I need my EpiPen!
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: I don’t know if it’s just me, but something has felt off-balance ever since I got here, and seeing this anchor in distress only heightens my uneasiness.
Rattled, I make my way through the crowd, searching for a spot where I’ll be able to grab a decent recording of the event.
But then things get truly crazy.
[FEMALE VOICE 4]: Hey, bitch, you think dripping candle wax on someone’s hair is funny? How about I set your head on fire and see if you find that funny?
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: Just before the first speaker goes on, a shoving match breaks out between two twenty-something women—one tall and gangly, the other short and full-figured.
The short one lunges for the tall one just as a pair of security guards hooks each woman under their arms. Their legs flail as they’re dragged apart.
Sasha happens to be a few feet away from the fighting women, and I check her for signs of dismay, but instead I swear I see a smirk flash across her face.
The first speaker is national poet laureate Obi Akinde, and the microphone screeches when he greets us. This is followed by an electrical pop and the mic cutting out entirely. It takes ten minutes for the sound guys to get a mic working again, but there’s a background hiss they can’t resolve, so I’ll spare you the audio. Needless to say, it makes for a distracting reading. Though not as distracting as what happens next.
A middle-aged woman gets up onstage, prompting looks of confusion between the mayor, tonight’s host, and a stagehand with a headset and clipboard. The woman has sandy curly hair piled on top of her head, round wire-rimmed glasses with blue lenses, and layers of skirts pinned up at various lengths. The total effect is a cross between a bohemian cancan dancer and something Helena Bonham-Carter would wear on the red carpet.
Eyes darting around like she knows her time is limited, the woman grabs the microphone and speaks in a low, breathless voice.
[FEMALE VOICE 4]: My name is Antoinette Stranger, and I believe I’ve had contact with Violet Volk.
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: As a security guard marches across the stage, Antoinette quickens her words.
ANTOINETTE STRANGER: Sasha, I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, and I haven’t spoken to her face-to-face or on the phone or via any other conventional methods, but we have communicated. I believe she’s well and you may see her again, Sasha. I can show you how you can contact her. Your sister wants to hear from you. She told me to tell you, pay attention to the twos. Follow the twos.
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: The host takes the mic from her hand as the security guard steers her offstage.
ANTOINETTE STRANGER: I’m going, I’m going.
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: Now here is my dilemma. Do I stay to record the rest of the vigil or do I follow Antoinette and see if she’ll grant me an interview?
But then Quinn Dwyer’s name is called. For me, she’s the main event.
QUINN DWYER: Um, hi, everybody.
[sounds of roaring applause]
CAMERON FRANK [STUDIO]: As she waits for the applause to die down, Quinn hunches over the mic, gripping it with both hands, hiding her face. She remains in that position and says nothing, even when the crowd goes quiet.
The extended silence lasts over a full minute, punctuated by the faint smack of Quinn’s chewing gum and occasional hoots from the audience encouraging her to speak. She finally does.