Denver Bar Association
May 2006
© 2006 The Docket and Denver Bar Association. All Rights Reserved.
All material from The Docket provided via this World Wide Web server is copyrighted by the Denver Bar Association. Before accessing any specific article, click here for disclaimer information.

Murder on the Reunification Express: Part Seven

by N .

Editor’s Note: This is a continuation to a serial fiction piece written anonymously by Docket committee members. Each month, The Docket will feature a new installment by a different committee member. To review past installments, visit

Logan reluctantly looked at MiWan, cocking an eyebrow in response. This was a drastic turn of events he had not expected. He had hoped for a much warmer response from MiWan, if not the hope of rekindling the flame from their former relationship. It had been many years, and at the time, Logan thought that it was in both parties’ benefits for the relationship to end, but there had been many late nights where he had questioned that decision. But for now, those thoughts were on hold as he was held at gunpoint.

"What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?" Logan asked MiWan in a higher-than-normal voice pitch.

MiWan stepped out of the shed and Logan heard the click of the men’s guns as they prepared to shoot Logan. "This is not looking good," Logan barely whispered to no one in particular. Logan heard some rustling outside and some curt voices, one of which was MiWan’s. A chicken squawked nervously, and could be heard running around in the dirt, flapping it’s wings anxiously. Then there was silence, and for a moment Logan thought he had been shot.

Moments later MiWan shuffled into the shed, grasping some chicken feathers in one hand and holding a cup in the other hand. She was staring at the floor, seemingly unaware of the predicament Logan was in with the ever-increasing intensity of the two armed men.

MiWan spoke slowly and gravely. "So now you know what it feels like to be in my shoes. Now you know what it’s like to be on the other side of the barrel." Again, there was another awkward silence, one which seemed to go on forever. MiWan spoke again, "We may be able to work something out here. But part of that means you must be accountable for your actions in the past as well. I know a lot more than you think I do."

Logan’s mind raced fast and furiously, and he felt the surge of adrenaline rise up in him as he recalled the past and tried to figure out just how much MiWan could actually know. He felt dizzy.

"MiWan," Logan breathed, weakly. "MiWan … fine … okay … whatever. But please, can you … " Logan’s voice trailed off, too weak to speak, but he gestured toward the men with the raised guns.

MiWan looked up, and looked at both men. She said something to them in a dialect Logan did not understand. They reluctantly lowered and holstered their guns. Then they exited the shed and from Logan’s range of vision, stood directly outside the shed, with their hands on their weapons, ready to draw if necessary. Something about these two men looked oddly familiar, and Logan sensed that they recognized him also. But he couldn’t place his finger on what it was.
Feeling only slightly relieved but still nauseated, Logan

thought for a moment he would be sick to his stomach. In all his time in Vietnam, he had never felt this scared. But then again, his tour of duty didn’t carry with it the emotional baggage this trip did.

MiWan looked at Logan in pity and momentarily felt sorry for him. She offered him a sip from her cup. "Here. Take a sip. This will calm your stomach, then we can talk." Logan took the cup, hands trembling. He looked into the cup, and felt he was looking back 30 years. If he was remembering correctly, this could be MiWan’s family’s secret brew of a rice wine, "with something extra thrown in." But Logan also knew that just the slightest error in the recipe could be fatal. Logan was suspicious that MiWan might be trying to kill him with the brew, but figured she wanted more out of him before she killed him. He took a sip, feeling the warm burn down his parched throat. His head felt light.

MiWan’s voice cracked when she addressed Logan. "How come you never asked where Thomas was buried? Why did you never visit his grave?"

Thomas. Logan’s son. MiWan’s son. Their secret encounter when MiWan came to Phoenix. Logan had kept this secret for many years. He was afraid of the retribution that Mickey might unleash if he ever found out about his secret relationship with MiWan. And Thomas. Given an English name to help protect everyone involved. Logan wrote to him when he could, and sent MiWan money as well. But Logan still felt incredibly guilty over his failure to be a father to Thomas. And he felt even worse when Thomas died. He had no good reason for not going to his funeral or ever visiting Thomas’ grave. It was guilt, only guilt.

"I … I … you know I couldn’t visit, MiWan. You know we had to keep this secret from Mickey. It was the only way."

MiWan took a sip from the cup herself. Logan relaxed – she hadn’t tried to poison him after all.

"Logan. Mickey knows more than we ever suspected. And, he knows Tran is still alive."

With that, Tran walked into the shed. He was one of the two men who had earlier pointed a gun at his head.

Stay Tuned. ...

Member Benefits DBA Governance Committees Public Interest The Docket Metro Volunteer Lawyers DBA Young Lawyers Division Legal Resource Directory DBA Staff The Docket