Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

started with the clean. So, Susannah, Jamie, Pete and Val, if you'd come up with Jennifer and Dr. Hayman and the cameraman will get you positioned."
    We trooped up the steps and back into the apartment. Greg, the cameraman, aligned us in a semicircle near the door, then said, "Okay, rolling."
    We looked at each other for a minute. Jennifer looked at the floor. Then Val asked, "Where do you sleep?"
    Jennifer didn't look up. "On the bed. I just shove stuff over until I can make enough room."
    Val continued. "How do you even use your kitchen? When's the last time you cooked anything?"
    "I don't remember. I've been eating out every meal for a long time."
    Pete took over. "What's with all the magazines and newspapers?"
    Jennifer still didn't look at us. "The magazines are mostly for school. Some are education journals and some are news magazines. I want - wanted - to look at them for ideas for bulletin boards and lesson plans. The papers have coupons and stuff in them."
    I was only really interested in one thing. "Where are the boxes with the books?"
    That got Jennifer to look up. "They're in the guest room. But they're under a bunch of stuff."
    Susannah hadn't said anything yet. Now she did. " This is disgusting. How can you live like this?"
    Jennifer got tears in her eyes. "I can't any more. That's why I want to do this."
    Dr. Hayman laid her hand on Jennifer's shoulder. "Jennifer, how do you feel about your family's reactions to your hoard?"
    Jennifer sighed. "They're right. It's awful. I can't live like this."
    Greg the cameraman cut us off. "Okay, that's good. Let's go back outside and have our pep talk." Dr. Hayman glared at Greg. I got the impression she wasn't done with the "how do you feel" line of questioning. But time was a'wastin’. We all marched back downstairs and formed a bigger semicircle, now including Stan and his guys, in the parking lot.
    Mike the organizer took over.
    "Okay, folks, thank you all for coming. Here's how we're going to do this."
    We received our instructions. Jennifer would allow us to get rid of all the magazines and newspapers with no restrictions. However, she wanted to look at everything else. Every item in every box and bag had to be scrutinized before she'd agree to get rid of it. Susannah was going to stay outside with Jennifer and help her decide what to donate and what to sell. I thought that was wise.
    Pete and I wanted no part of the sorting. As the organizer was speaking, I poked Pete in the ribs. "Let's hit the magazines and newspapers. Avoid the drama."
    "Great idea." Pete turned to me. "But you’re wearing a mask to keep out the dust. And the first bit of mold we run into, or cockroach shit, or anything like that, you're out of here. Agreed?"
    "Agreed." I had no interest in sacrificing the health of my lungs to Jennifer's hoard. Back in June I'd nearly died after a cologne-induced asthma attack, and I didn't want to find myself back in the hospital for a long, long time.
    As soon as we were released to begin, Pete and I grabbed a roll of garbage bags and headed for the bedroom. We thought we'd work from the back forward. We set up a good rhythm, holding the open trash bag in one hand and tossing magazines and newspapers into it with the other. We were very careful not to include anything but magazines and newspapers.
    At one point, I moved a stack of magazines off the surface of a dresser and found a picture. Oh shit. It was Jennifer and Kevin's wedding picture. I picked it up. "Pete. Take a look at this."
    Pete straightened up and saw the picture. " Damn."
    "No kidding. Why does she still have this?"
    "No idea. But it can't be good."
    As we worked, I chatted a bit with Stan's guys. The head of the crew seemed to be Alvin, a middle-aged black man with a shaved head and goatee. The other three were younger, one Hispanic and two white. The Hispanic guy, Eddie, was the friendliest. He was taking night classes at UCLA, so we talked, careful to keep it off-camera, about school and the Bruins football team. One of the white guys, Jerry, worked silently but efficiently. He had a lot of crude tattoos and big muscles. I wondered if he had obtained them in prison.
    Alvin, Eddie and Jerry worked hard. They slung the full bags of magazines, newspapers and garbage as fast as Pete and I could fill them, and filled a few of their own as well. The fourth guy, Wally, didn’t look like he fit. He was a scrawny guy, pale, with no discernible muscle mass. He had light brown hair and a