(((Releasing this almost a year late, and sending it into the world as the unfinished draft that it is. This is how it was meant to be shared.)))

In my observation, a single phone call can change a person’s entire life.

And that’s exactly what happened.

For those of you wondering–and more than enough people have asked–I don’t know how my brother died. However, for those of you inclined to read my words, here’s the story I’ll offer to provide.

My partner and I were meant to find him on Wednesday, 2/23/2022, as we were flying in for my papaw’s funeral. The plane tickets were purchased, the rental car was reserved, and the clothes were laid out.

But something was wrong.

We called my mom. I had a feeling. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know why. I had no reason. I just knew something was wrong.

My mom said she hadn’t talked to my brother in a week. That’s good shit because I had a better timeline. I had texts from around 12:35am my time (2:35am his time). A lot of them. A whole entire list of them.

So I woke up at 2:30am my time (4:30am his time). Brother, you up?

Brother would never be up again. Brother was already gone. I wouldn’t find out for hours, but brother was gone.

I had sent my partner the screenshots of that last text influx. My partner said my brother was in pain and my partner could feel his pain and relate to it. He wanted me to connect him to my brother. Because he could relate. So I did. I created a group text with my brother, my partner, and myself. Partner and I spent the day texting my brother. Every few hours, we’d text or call and leave voicemails. Yes, I’ve since listened to them and hung my head at the silly messages we left, trying to make him smile and brighten his day.

I have a solid timeline.

And now I have his phone.

And I’ve spent the last two weeks looking through it. Reading every message. Checking every DM. Seeing who he was spending his last moments thinking about.

It all went down like this:

I knew something was wrong. I immediately told my partner I had to call for a wellness check when he and I were on the phone. I called dispatch. She was a complete bitch. I asked if I could get a call back when the police got to my brother’s house. She very clearly indicated that they would never call back because they’re busy and I clearly had no idea the volume of calls they take. She did invite me to call back at 8pm to check on the status of the call. It was 7:02pm.

Around 20 minutes later, my phone rang.

It was a blocked number. My heart stood still and I just knew.

Police wanted to know how I knew the person who lived there. I indicated I’m his sibling. They asked when I could be at his house. I told them I was in Denver but could be there tomorrow. They asked who else was around who could come to the house. I told them no one.

They asked my brother’s name. My brother’s name is Scott Brandenburg.

“Mr. Scott,” they said.

“I’m sorry to inform you…”

I’m not even sure I remember the rest of the story correctly. I might’ve made up a tale along the way? I have no idea.

You know what I do know? “The body.”

The body.

Mr. Scott be

(((The story ended here. It was never finished.)))