that perhaps he feared the legal ramifications of one of his patients attacking and injuring a civilian. Seven accepted Walter’s recommendations, not knowing that Gilbert’s parting words of “Fuck you, Seven” were the final words that he would ever receive from his father.
The call came at 4 a.m. Just nine days after Seven’s final visit. The cell phone buzzed and rang for several minutes before Seven retrieved it from the nightstand next to his bed.
“Seven, it’s Walter. Are you there?”
He repeated the name “Walter” into the receiver, acknowledging his presence.
“Seven, I have some bad news for you. Are you awake, son?”
“Yeah, I am awake, what is it, Walter?”
“I hate to tell you this over the phone, Seven, but your father had a massive heart attack tonight. He passed away in his room. The security guard found him on his rounds. It looks like he passed away in his sleep.”
“He’s dead?” Seven responded.
“Yes, he passed away. I know it’s early in the morning but I wanted you to know as soon as possible. You are the only family or next of kin that we’re aware of. I’ll give you time to digest all this. Just give me a call when you’re ready and we’ll discuss everything.”
As the next of kin for Gilbert Andrews, Seven found himself making decisions that he never thought he would have to make. Death certificates, the receiving of personal property, and disposal of the body were among the many issues that Walter and Seven discussed for several days after the death. Being as Gilbert died in the custody of the State of Florida, a formal investigation and autopsy were conducted. It took the state about two days to determine that Gilbert Andrews, accused serial killer and