There is a recently widowed woman behind a black veil at her husband's funeral. Her face is pale and looks youthful, although it has evidence of wrinkles on it. She is crying silently, trying not to attract the attention of one of her family members. They always make a fuss over her and they would do so even more because of the circumstances. She holds back a sob as the priest starts to talk about how he died. He left the office at 5:30 PM on the dot, as usual. He traveled down the road for a distance, as usual. He slowed to a stop at the Washington St. and Jefferson Ave. intersection as the traffic light was blinking red and then stayed red, as usual. He turned on the radio to the news at 5:37 exactly, as usual. He was then shot in the head by a sniper at 5:37 and 14 seconds. Two grenades were then thrown at his car and it exploded. His body was never found.
The police don't know what happened. It was probably a random act of violence. They closed the case as there was no one around to see what happened, as usual.
She hiccuped as the priest started to end the service. He ended with some talk about how he died doing what he did everyday, and how he was an honest Christian man, who "never harmed anyone, not even a fly". She scoffed and was immediately shushed, even though she was the grieving widow, no one thought it would be her.
She rose and walked curtly out the door with her arms crossed as soon as the service ended. She knew what type of monster he really was, and she was going to show the world that his death was no accident.
She was going to find her husband and make him pay for crossing her. She had 48 hours to find him before he left the country, and she intended to use every second of it.