Imagine yourself at a bustop with a group of others, and watching in horror as a large flat bed truck with a 3000 gallon tank, filled with deadly pesticides slides towards you on it's side at 50 miles per hour, and within moments, slams into the curb before you. The tank bursts open and saturates everyone so violently, some are kcked out of their shoes. Your clothes disintegrated and falls from you in wet tattered heaps, and all the while, you scream in ear shattering agony as large purplish boils protrudes through your skin. Yet, a week later, physical evidence of the affliction remains. Doctors are at a lose to explain it.
As you remember with great heartache, Mrs. Davis, the army informed you and your husband that your oldest son, Tim, was killed in a mortar attack in Vietnam, in 1967. Adding to that grief they also inform you that Tim's body had been completely destroyed. Shortly afterwards, his personal effects, including his dress green uniform were sent home. Sometime later, you discovered, under the US ARMY patch, a photo of a South Vietnamese officer. On the back it states, this man assassinated your son in the name of national security. After deliberation, you decide t to confide to your husband, or other son, Lenny, who too had been in Vietnam, what you learned of Tim's death. You kw what they would have done about it. Yet, your anger was as such that they were sure you might possibly have learned something more about his death.
Three years later, your husband died.
It is w, 1988, and just recently, you saw this man in San Francisco, Mary Davis, what on earth are you going to do?