The Incident

            On May 22nd of this year my best friend, Chris Dennis, drowned in Cayuga Lake the week before we were both set to graduate. What was meant to be a week of celebration suddenly turned into a traumatic week of despair and the course of my life changed forever.

            On the eve of his disappearance we had been enjoying a campout at our friend's lake house property. It was potluck style and a huge number of people from the 660 and Von Kramm cooperatives as well as old Ithaca High School friends had shown up with their favorite dishes. After dinner a lot of folks left but around 10 of us stayed.

            As the sky began to darken we saw thunder rolling in from across the lake. It was quite the sight to behold and both Chris and I took pictures of the thunderbolt striking over the water. The rain followed shortly after in a downpour. Most of us retreated to the roof overhanging the shed but Chris remained exposed to the rain. Shirtless and drenching wet he was hovering over the fire as if he was trying to summon some force from within it. It was a very Chris-like behavior that entertained us as we huddled in what small shelter we had.

             When the rain subsided we gradually prepared for bed. A few of us went on a drive to drop off the soggy wet Black Lab at his house. When we got back a number of folks had already gone to bed. I tried to find my spot where I had laid down my sleeping bag but to no avail. Most of the night I couldn't sleep because I was so cold and Chris, probably restless from his damp shorts, couldn't sleep either. He eventually left the tent and I asked if I could borrow his sleeping bag until he got back. He was still missing his shirt though so he wrapped his sleeping bag around his shoulders, but enough people were aroused that I was able to find out where my own sleeping bag was and reclaim it.

              Chris poked his head back in to ask if anyone wanted to help him pitch a second tent. I offered to help and we made motions to start one before he said that he wasn't interested in sleeping in it but was just pitching it if someone else wanted it. Since I figured there was plenty of room in the big tent we abandoned the second one. I looked at him one last time and he said he was planning to stay awake. I figured he was planning to photograph the sunrise so I went back inside and finally fell asleep in the warmth of my sleeping bag. This action I have regretted every day since that night.

             The following morning I woke up around 9 am and noticed Chris's absence. I walked up the slope to check his car and saw only his dog, Luca, inside it. I wondered if he'd gone on a hike. It wasn't until everyone woke up that someone mentioned that Chris had poked his head in again to ask if anyone wanted to go paddling. That was when I saw that the canoe was missing and I was immediately concerned. The others figured Chris was just adventuring on his own and would be back soon but I did not feel comfortable leaving. I took the orange kayak and paddled where my gut told me to go.

              When I was out on the water I knew that I had to make use of the motorboaters since their efficiency was far greater than my own. I flagged one down and told them my friend had taken a canoe out on his own five hours ago and we hadn't seen him since. I asked if he'd seen him and he said he hadn't but would keep an eye out. That is when I thought that Chris likely tried to cross the lake so I paddled towards the east shore. But as I did so I saw a second motor boat coming from the North along the south shore so I doubled back to get within earshot. After asking them if they'd seen Chris they also said they hadn't but they made a U-turn and went searching. 

              About ten minutes later they came back and waved at me. When they got closer I saw that they were hauling a capsized canoe behind them and my heart sank. I refused to lose hope straight away since I did not yet have proof that it was the same canoe. But when they asked me if they should call 911 I responded affirmatively. While they were calling I paddled up to get a closer look at the overturned canoe and saw that there was "Great Race" sticker at the nose and was anxious to call ***** to deduce whether or not it was in fact his canoe. But I did not have my phone with me and could not recall his number. I was anxious to go back to shore to see if he was still there but given that we'd just called the police I couldn't leave. The passengers helped me to board their motorboat so I could talk to the interrogator. I was frustrated with myself that I could not give a more descriptive location since *****'s property did not have an exact address, all I could say is that it was at the end of a gravel road whose name I had forgotten that was across from Bellwether cider. As soon as I got off the phone with him I called my parents asking them to log into my facebook account to see if they couldn't find Jamie's number. When that failed I started rattling off other names of people on the shore and still no luck. Frustrated I began to yell at them wailing "look harder, my best friend might be dead!" but it was no use, I just had to wait through the most agonizing 40 minutes in a fetal position in the corner of the motorboat until an emergency boat finally came. I boarded immediately and helped them load my kayak. I thanked the motorboaters profusely for their help, then was taken to the dock at O'Malley's restaurant where more interrogators awaited me. I must have given the same story to at least four different people before they finally escorted me in a police vehicle to the lakehouse property where I was finally able to charge my phone and call *****.

               The first thing I asked him was whether his canoe had a "Great Race" sticker on it and he confirmed that it did. I couldn't believe it. I told him everything and that the sheriff wanted everyone to come to his office for questioning. They let me drive my own car this time and while I was driving I called Chris's girlfriend to deliver the saddest news I had the misfortune of being the bearer of. After speaking with her I broke down, gasping and sobbing as I tried to keep the wheel steady on the way to the sheriff's office.

               Once I got there I was questioned once again and then wrote up as detailed a statement as I could. I could hear my friends coming in as I sat typing up my account of the incident. When I was finished I went to join the others in the waiting room in silence. As soon as they were all finished being questioned we made our way back to the lakehouse property. On our way back Chris's brother called me and asked if I could help organize the search party. He and the rest of the family were in NYC for his sister's graduation but were doing everything they could to organize from afar. Without hesitation I agreed to help and so I spent the next 40 minutes charging my phone from my car and calling everyone I could think of to meet at Sheldrake point at 7 that evening (it was 5:30 at the time) to begin the search. Though I was already exhausted and entirely overwhelmed I knew I had to hold myself together awhile longer.