In October of 2007, the house was empty, the
tenant had moved out.
We drove up to it.
She says, "There's somebody standing in that
window."
I said, "No, that's impossible."
The scene was strange; more like a staged
incident.
There was a body in the room and two notebooks.
She had been writing a journal.
"To whomever finds my body: please bury me
in New Durham town cemetery."
And that's where the story of Linda Bishop
ended.
She was enormously independent.
People were attracted to her.
She liked to be involved with people.
She was a wonderful mother; she loved Katie
to death.
It's such an odd thing that no one knew there
was this person in that house.
"It just doesn't make sense to be barely existing."
I thought, ok this is a suicide, but the more
I learned about her, I realized this isn't
a suicide at all.
She had quit her job and we packed stuff up
and hit the road.
She met this guy Steve when she was waitressing.
She was madly in love with him.
She kept talking about the Chinese Mafia being
after her.
She wrote us several letters - deep, dark,
delusional.
I didn't want that in my house.
We don't know if there's foul play involved.
I think they were looking for any sort of
lead.
She was, in a sense, a prisoner in this house.
She had her apple orchards in the back, she
loved it here.
"I just counted 270 apples.
Twenty-two days at twelve apples a day...
That should be enough."
There's my mother and there is Linda Bishop.
Linda Bishop's who I hate.
She was that close to safety and being assisted,
then why didn't she get help?
That last bit of power and freedom she wasn't
going to give away.
"Dear God, please save me.
I'm trying, but I don't know what to do."
