Jewell painstakingly combed her memory for explanations. What clues had she left behind? How could anyone have guessed she had taken the train? Did the taxi driver see her go into the station, and report her? Should she just admit to everything? Her name was on her health card and anyone looking for her would definitely recognize the name. She couldn't hide in the washroom because her seat partner was still in the closest one. Maybe she should be proactive- offer to show her ID to the conductor. She had short, curly hair and glasses now, so she couldn't be identified from any picture the Mortons might have provided. Jewell was finding it hard to breathe and she felt her cheeks reddening as they always did when she was nervous.
Then suddenly the decision was not Jewell's to make. Two RCMP officers entered the car, one from each end. One walked directly to Jewell's seat and stopped there."Hi," he said affably. "I'm Sergeant Michealson and I need you to answer a couple of questions for me. Let's start with your name."
"Jo elle Andrea Benée," Jewell replied, modifying the pronunciation to make it sound French, "but I go by my second name, Andrea," which she pronounced ‘On dray/ a'.
"Are you travelling alone, Ondraya?"
"Yes, I have a student ticket."
"Was someone else sitting in the seat beside you?"
"Yes, a man. He's in the washroom right now."
"Did he tell you his name?"
"No, he didn't. We didn't talk at all, actually, until he wanted the washroom."
"Okay Ondraya, I need you to take your things and go to a seat at the other end of the car."
As soon as Jewell had picked up her knapsack and green bag, the officer moved into the vacant seat and commenced searching through the few belongings that had been left there by her former seatmate. Jewell had gone only a few steps when the whole car was shocked into motionlessness by the sound of a shot from the washroom. Since no bullet came through the door, it appeared that the man inside had shot himself. Jewell turned around in time to see an officer stationed by the washroom draw his gun. Before he could investigate, however, the door was suddenly pushed forward from inside with a tremendous force that caught him off guard just long enough for the man who had been behind it to raise his own gun and point it right at Jewell. Using the metal door for a shield and keeping his back inside the small washroom, the man began issuing orders.
"Hey, Kidney Problem," he said, "Come here."
Jewell looked at the police officers for direction.
"I said come here. Stand there one more second looking stupid and I start shooting."
Sergeant Michaelson nodded at Jewell, who then walked toward the gunman. All Jewell was aware of was a confusion of voices and instructions. Police officers took positions on each side of her. Jewell was afraid to take her eyes off the gunman. Passengers were taking pictures with their digital cameras and cell phones. Suddenly, the gunman pulled the trigger and one of the officers fell to the floor.
Somehow, the shooter was apprehended and disarmed; the injured officer was administered to; Jewell was carried by someone to her original seat where she was given water and asked repeatedly if she was okay. Another passenger, a young woman, came and sat with her and promised one of the officers to deliver Jewell safely to whoever was waiting for her in Toronto. The people with cameras were trying to attract Jewell's attention, but the lady who had been assigned to stay with her intervened, reprimanding them and covering Jewell with a blanket.
Sergeant Michaelson came to Jewell's seat and complimented her on her bravery. He gave her his professional card and asked her to have her parents call him as soon as she arrived home. A fifth officer, who had been outside the train, was now inside,questioning some of the passengers and taking notes.
continued next week
