Brian Church died.

I spent a week writing to and waiting for a spokesperson from Harborview to update me on the condition of the driver involved in the accident at my building.

The main problem was that I didn't have his name. Harborview is the only trauma center in the city and as such, it gets a buttload of accident victims each day. Without a name, I had to bother a person whose job it is to deal with the press for what was essentially a dead-end memory game. My last note to her on Thursday was me prodding her recollection with the number of the aid car that may have brought the man in.

Today I found out the driver's name.

I came home from work, ready to email the HMC spokesperson with my new information. In my mail was a reply to the Thursday note I'd written to her, trying to help her identify the man I wanted information about.

She was telling me that if it was the man who hit the pole and came in critical...he died.

With my stomach flitty-flopping inside me, I wrote her back and asked her if she could confirm for me that it was the man of the same name I had just finally found out.

It was.

God rest your soul, Mr. Church.

The only dimly-bright spot in today's news is that I may know the town he lived in and the name of a next of kin. I now have what I believe to be his old address and the address of someone here in the city who might be related to him. I'm sending letters to each address, hoping someone can identify the Chinese "peace" charm as being his so that I may give it to them.