Worth More Dead

fight.”
    Even though he was sometimes moody or surly, it didn’t really matter how Roland Pitre acted; his teenage students saw him as almost perfect. His skill and grace were unmatched by anyone they had ever seen. His marriage was happy and serene, and they loved to hang out in the Pitres’ mobile home. It wasn’t that their parents weren’t good to them; it was that Roland treated them like they were adults. He valued their opinions, and they were happy to help him with any chores he requested. They cleaned the dojo, folded the mats, carried groceries, and babysat for André.
    It was in the late spring and early summer of 1988 when the first narrow fissures snaked through the perfect marriage. The solid foundation of the Pitres’ home crumbled as Roland’s students watched, disbelieving.
    Just as observers had become absolutely convinced that Cheryl and Roland and their children were blessed, a faint shadow hovered over their happiness. Apparently the picture of health, Roland told Cheryl about some subtle symptoms that worried him. He said he’d been having strange rashes, slight episodes of fever, and growing fatigue.
    He had always been so strong, and he still looked healthy, but he told Cheryl he was afraid. After she questioned him closely, he finally admitted to her that he feared his exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam might have predisposed him to cancer. He’d heard from other guys in his old unit who had it.
    It was only a week or two later when Roland sadly told Cheryl that he had been to a doctor. His fears were confirmed; at the age of 37, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As Cheryl started to cry, he vowed to fight it with everything he had. Still, he was very concerned about what Cheryl and their two children would do if he lost the fight. How could they survive if he died? Or—not nearly as likely—what would he do to care for Bébé and André if she should die? They were being shown how unpredictable life could be. He stressed that they had responsibilities, especially to their children.
    His arguments made sense to Cheryl, and she agreed that they should each take out an insurance policy for $125,000, naming the other as beneficiary. She suggested that he contact Frank Haberlach, a popular fixture in the Bremerton insurance business. Haberlach was a regular at the coffee hour in Cheryl’s office at Bay Ford.
    Cheryl wasn’t sure that Roland could even get insurance in his condition. He said at his age, no physical examination was required. He told her that their policies with the Lutheran Brotherhood Company in Minneapolis would go into effect in June 1988. Whether Roland ever got a policy on himself is unclear.
    When one looks at the insurance transactions Roland arranged, there is a jarring note. Was he really dying? If he ever actually served in Vietnam, it isn’t documented. No one who knew him in the Marines can validate it. According to his Marine friends, he was deployed to the Philippines and Japan, never to Vietnam. But then he was assigned to secret spy missions, so it was possible.
    Despite his supposed terminal illness, Roland kept going to nursing school and continued to teach his judo classes. He didn’t look or act sick. Cheryl watched him anxiously, waiting for the more serious symptoms that surely must come.
    But they never did, and she was grateful that her prayers had been answered. Their marriage, however, was ailing. Although it had only been two years since she helped him get out of prison, and he had his own dojo, his college studies, a baby son, and a wife who worked constantly to help support him, Roland was restless. He had always planned to live better than they were living. The mobile home wasn’t his idea of luxury, and Cheryl had put on some weight after her pregnancy with André. She no longer satisfied him.
    He wanted to be rich, he wanted excitement, and he wanted, as always, more sexual adventures than he could find in a monogamous marriage.
    Cheryl could no longer deny that Roland was cheating on her. He had far too many women in his life for a faithful married man. At first she had tried to believe that he was making friends with women because he was one of the few males in the nursing classes he attended. But she knew in her heart that he hadn’t really changed at all. When she questioned him, he made excuses. Then by full summer he didn’t even bother to explain why he came home late or why he was at local restaurants with women.
    She