The flickering light in the breakroom felt like a countdown to my execution, not my retirement, until those four black SUVs tore through the Seattle rain, carrying men who didn’t answer to hospital boards, but to a debt of blood and honor I thought I’d buried thirty years ago.
Part 1: The fluorescent light in the breakroom of St. Jude’s Medical Center has been flickering for three years. I put in a maintenance request for it back in 2021, but like most things in this building—and most people my age—it was simply ignored. It blinks in a rhythmic, irritating strobe, a jagged white pulse…
