The countertop was strewn with risperidone, an anti-psychotic medication. Unsigned credit cards waited on a windowsill for someone to test the limits of their strained credit.
I know what style of clothes they wear, and that they owned Thelma and Louise, Independence Day, and Braveheart.
A room in the basement contained tax information for 2000-2008. The latter three years of that range were particularly successful: he was making over $98,000 as a franchisee of a fast-food restaurant; she was making $41,155 as its manager. The documents included itemized expenses, social security numbers, and bank account information.
I know where they bought their electronics (a big-box store on a fringe exurb), and that they had rental properties in Minnesota and California. I know they paid $269,400 for their house, with $35,000 down. I know which casino they frequented. I know they then tried to open a remodeling business. Timing was poor, however, as the market crashed soon after they got started. That, in part, is why I was there.
A family member was a veteran. I’m not sure who, exactly, as I don’t open mail when I’m on site. I only gather information from what I can see without disturbing the artifacts.
As for the rest, I can only speculate.