By Mike Hixenbaugh
© April 29, 2012
It’s near 10 on a blustery spring night, and Earl Mawyer is rifling through a stack of documents in a dimly lit parking lot. He finds a fresh number, punches it into his cell, then brings the phone to his ear.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He slaps the phone shut. His head is pounding; his vision blurred. He leans back into a leather seat, shuts his eyes and wishes this day never came.
A moment later, the middle-aged manager of the Mayfair Mews apartment complex is composed and back on his phone. He’s determined to track down every tenant who might have been home earlier that day when a malfunctioning fighter jet sputtered out of control and slammed into the adult community off Birdneck Road.