Sam and Joe drove to the Coroner's office to see the Medical Examiner. The first ambulances were pulling up with the new corpses the divers found in the Bay. Upon entering the office, Doctor Miller handed them a paper,<span style="font-style: italic">"Hey, I got the lab results for your first victim. Mister Lopez died of a drug overdose. He ingested enough cocaine to take down a horse."</span><br/><br/>"Wow," Joe remarked as he looked the laboratory document over. "That is impressive and thank you very much, Doc." Then Joe looked up at Robin Miller. Her face didn't have that recognition appearance one gets when they acknowledge bad news has befallen them. "I guess you haven't heard yet?" Joe asked. "I called Dr. Nolan to let him know the divers found at least twenty-one corpses in the Bay. You may want to get ready, Doc. This place is going to fill up quick." Joe tried to appear sympathetic to the Medical examiner. "The divers say the corpses are in various stages of decay. Some of the corpses appear to have been in the water for several months and many have been nibbled on by sharks."<br/><br/>"I guess the sharks are in town for something big," Sam interjected.<br/><br/>"Yea, I wouldn't plan any swimming excursions into San Francisco Bay anytime soon," Joe added. "Also, I have let the CSI's know that the corpses are coming in. They need to process each one before you can attend to the autopsies"<br/><br/>Joe looked at the tox report for Gabriel Lopez again. "I assume the Jane Doe we found this morning will have a similar result. More than likely, this was some killer's dumping ground and you'll find similar tox reports on each of the next several victims who come in here." Upon saying these words, the first corpse was being wheeled in by an EMT.<br/><br/>"Well, Doc. It looks like you are going to have your hands full," Joe spoke aloud. "Sam and I are going to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting this evening. We hope to find some leads there. So far it has been zilch." As the two inspectors turned to leave, "call me if you learn anything." Joe felt bad about dumping this much work on Doctors Miller and Nolan, but he was not a doctor and couldn't really help them at all.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: blue;background:blue;"/></div><br/><br/>Later that evening, Sam Rhyu and Joe Beaulieu found themselves walking into the basement of the Metropolitan Community Church of San Francisco. A group of twenty to thirty people had assembled, sitting in aluminum folding chairs facing one end of a small room. A few of the people gathered  had conversations amongst themselves. While everyone looked at the two men walk into the meeting room, none looked for longer than a few seconds. One older African gentleman smiled at them, giving them a wink as though their presence was welcome.<br/><br/>Joe and Sam remained quiet, taking seats at the back of the room. They didn't want to intrude on the meeting more than they had to. They hoped that most would assume they too had a drug addiction and were there for the same reason as them. The two San Francisco Police Inspectors remained silent throughout the meeting.<br/><br/>They listend to a young woman of 24 years who referred to herself as Calista talk about her addictions how they rose from Barbiturates to Cocaine to methamphetamines. How she tied Heroin, but seemed to prefer Meth the most. A Mexican American named Carlos told a similar story how cocaine took over his life. He lost his job, his wife, his family and every ounce of dignity due to his drug of choice. He has been clean and sober for twelve years and now had a job at Muni Metro working at Embarcadero Station. A elder Vietnamese man named Son, told a similar story about loss and drugs. He had become addicted to Heroin around the time of the Vietnam War and found himself on a boat with many of his countrymen leaving their homeland for fear of Reprisals from the Communists.<br/><br/>Most of the thirty alleged reformed drug addicts in the room sat quietly listening to the few brave souls who told their story. More than a few of the people in the room were alone and remained alone the entire time they were there. They remained expressionless and in Joe's opinion appeared as though they were strung out on something while in attendance to the NA meeting.<br/><br/>The same African American man who gave the two an approving smile acted as the meeting moderator. He spoke to the group initially and introduced each participant. He also offered consolation, suggestions or quips of friendly motivations for those struggling with addiction. When the meeting concluded, Joe and Sam approached the man.<br/><br/>"Hello, sir," Joe spoke while extending his hand. "My name is Joe Beaulieu and this is my p- friend, Sam. We were wondering if we could have a word with you."<br/><br/>The sixty-something year old man with very dark complexion, brown eyes, gray afro hair, wrinkled face had a bright beaming smile. He warmly clasped Joe's hand in his own two meaty paws. The man stood just over six feet tall, but was robust. He did not appear overly fat, just a large man who was undoubtedly a muscular well built man in his younger days. His blood shot eyes showed years of weariness. But also a spark of tenderness and most importantly, love.<br/><br/>"Sure, Off- er gentlemen, come with me," the man smiled. "Pardon me, My name is Morris Stapleton. I am one of three pastors here at Metro Community." He lead them to a small office at the end of a hallway. He offered them seats and took his own behind a modest desk.<br/><br/>Joe noticed photographs on the wall. They depicted a younger and leaner man with friends, taken less than fifty years ago in the jungles of Southeast Asia. They all wore the olive drab uniforms, camouflaged steel pot helmets and black combat boots. Their arms were sinewy and they possessed a healthy demeanor carrying M16 rifles or in the case of Mr. Stapleton, an M60 machinegun. Joe saw the US 1st Cavalry Division patch and the Combat Infantry Badge.<br/><br/>"Now, how may I help you, officers?" Mr. Stapleton asked the inspectors.<br/><br/>"It was that easy?" Joe asked him with a smile.<br/><br/>"When you've dealt with the Police as long as I have, it is easy to spot them a mile away. Your haircuts, the way you dress, the police shield affixed to the front of his belt. They all give you away." Morris pointed at Sam Rhyu's inspector's star attached to his belt.<br/><br/>Sam smiled at Joe. Joe gave him a funny look. "Well, we weren't trying to hide from you sir, but I didn't want to make your clients feel uncomfortable either. I hope our presence didn't disturb them."<br/><br/>"No, I don't think most people realized you were police. Even if they did, they really don't care if you come visit our meetings. You aren't the first cops to come visit one of our NA meetings. In the future,  would prefer if you call me and let me know you are coming." Morris handed Joe his business card.<br/><br/>Joe took the card and placed it in his pocket. "Excuse me sir, I can't help but notice the photographs on your wall. I served in the Navy, were you in the Army? 1st Cavalry Division? Vietnam?"<br/><br/>"Yes sir. I served with 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry at the Ia Drang Valley in '65. I was only 18 then and it was hell," Morris stared into the younger man's eyes, his own squinting slightly. His hands clenched tightly and his tell tale warm smile seeming to fade only for a moment. "But that is ancient history. What brings you in here today?"<br/><br/>"I don't mean to intrude Mr. Stapleton. I have the utmost respect for anyone who served, especially in combat. I also have spent some time in combat, in the Middle East." Joe tried to allay any tension the older man may have. He was aware that not everyone was comfortable with their past. "My partner, inspector Rhyu and I are investigating several dead bodies that have washed ashore along the northern banks of San Francisco. The one lead we are finding is signs of drug abuse. I have photographs of two of the people. We found the first body only yesterday morning. This morning a second and this afternoon, our divers found several more in San Francisco Bay. Would you mind looking at these two? Do you know who they are?"<br/><br/>Morris Stapleton pulled a pair of black plastic glasses, placed them over his face and squinted at the first picture. "That is Gabriel Lopez," Morris said with some pain. "He was a good man. I am very sorry to hear this news." Joe turned the page on his smart phone displaying the photographs and showed them to the pastor. Paster Stapleton allowed a tear to  leak from the corner of his eye. "This young woman is Natalie Cormier. She worked at Alamo Rent a Car down the street. She is one of the sweetest persons I have ever met. She has a great sense of humor; she really could light up a room and make you smile. But she had a terrible problem with cocaine. Like many of the people I meet in this<span style="font-style: italic">business</span>, her life was ruined by her drug of choice." Morris stopped talking in a failed attempt to stifle tears. He drew a tissue from a box on his desk and blew his nose. "Give me a moment."<br/><br/>"Sure no, problem, Pastor," Joe stated appearing visibly shaken by the old man's response. He must have had a real relationship with this woman. "Is there anything you can tell us about Miss Cormier? We didn't know her name until just now. Do you know where she lived or if she had family? We need someone who knew her to identify her body at the morgue. A family member would be preferred."<br/><br/>Morris flipped through his rolodex, not one to give into technology like the younger members of society. He looked through the cards until he stopped at one in the C section. "Her address is 851 Green St. 3rd floor apartment. Her mother's name is Barbara. She resides in Oakland--387 Orange St. The woman is seventy years old and suffers from dimentia."<br/><br/>Joe wrote the addresses down. Then looked back up at Pastor Stapleton, "we'd like to come back to your NA meeting next week, if you don't mind."<br/><br/>"The only thing I ask, is that you change your clothes, don't carry firearms and do nothing to disturb the clients who come for help. Is that understood?"<br/><br/>"Sure, no problem," Joe stood up. Sam followed his lead as well as the Pastor. They shook hands and showed themselves out.<br/><br/>The two inspectors climbed inside Matilda. "Let's head back to the office and check in with the Captain. We'll plan on going to visit Natalie Cormier's mom, if it is Natalie Cormier and break the bad news to her. Maybe I'll give Oakland PD a call tonight. While we are there, we can pay a visit to Mr. Lopez' family.