Chapter 4 - THE MEDICINE BAGPolice collected the small canvas medicine bag Linda had brought to our house several times that week.
It was found in the back of Daniel’s car.
Inside:
Children’s acetaminophen.
A digital thermometer.
Oral dosing syringes.
Saline drops.
An amber bottle without a prescription label.
A bottle of cherry-flavored electrolyte concentrate.
And an old pharmacy receipt.
Nothing inherently criminal.
The unlabeled amber bottle contained a diluted liquid.
Later testing showed:
Water.
Acetaminophen at a low concentration.
Cherry flavoring consistent with one of the over-the-counter products in the bag.
No cefdinir.
That mattered.
Not because the mixture itself was poison.
It wasn’t.
The issue was substitution.
Somebody had apparently created a reddish-orange liquid that looked enough like Owen’s antibiotic for a hurried parent to mistake one for the other in an oral syringe.
I felt physically ill.
For two nights, Daniel had handed me a prefilled syringe.
“Owen’s medicine.”
I gave it to my baby.
I believed I was administering antibiotic.
I was giving diluted fever medication.
Not at a toxic dose.
Still not what I had consented to.
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That was how they included me in the deception.
By making me participate without knowing.
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