It's directly below the spot where a man in his mid-50s killed himself with a small-caliber pistol the night before. On the wall directly across from where the man apparently knelt or sat to shoot himself in the head is a framed picture of Jesus, grieving alone on the moonlit Mount of Olives the night before his betrayal.Brian wipes dust and a couple spots of something pink from the picture, then puts it in a plain cardboard box with other untainted or cleaned items that the family will keep, including three pairs of 40-by-30 men's jeans, a baseball cap that says Arizona State 1997, an empty canvas rifle bag, and a box of documents topped with a bill sent to the dead man and his building company. " Brian asks, holding up a roll of architectural plans for a house. You can also follow along on Facebook and Instagram.
“Imagine being on your knees at your father’s funeral beside his casket, saying goodbye to him — and then you have nine orgasms right there,” he said.p .main-container #login input[type=text], .main-container #login input[type=password] .main-container #login input[type=text] .main-container #login input[type=password] .main-container #login div .main-container .remember-forgot .main-container .main-container .main-container #login div label .main-container button .main-container #social .main-container #social span .main-container #social span.facebook .main-container #social span.google .main-container #social span.twitter .main-container #social span.yahoo .main-container .main-container .Brian and Kevin Reifsteck talk little as they work, wiping tiny flecks of blood, skull, skin, and brain matter from the walls, ceiling, and floor of a west-suburban bedroom.They wear disposable, boot-shaped plastic bags over their shoes, latex gloves, bright yellow Tyvek suits, and T-shirts that say Aftermath, Inc. Jason tells her that the stain is just glue--no body fluids leaked down to the subfloor, which means it won't need to be sealed or removed.Jason Kiefer, the crew's foreman, kneels on the floor where he's torn up a section of carpet and tile, staring at a dark stain on the subfloor. "OK," the woman says, shaking her head as she surveys the room. I'm not gonna use this room for a while." Jason, Brian, and Kevin put whatever can't be cleaned into plastic-lined cardboard boxes marked "biohazard." There are already four large, pinkish-red chunks of brain in a box in their truck outside, along with the section of bloodstained carpet.