“Hiiiii,” Camille said. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much.”
“Glad it worked out.” I waved to the children. “You two are adorable.”
“Thaaank you. Say thank you, Xander. Thank you, Gigi.”
Her readiness to share the kids’ names with a stranger disturbed me; her smile was bright and impatient. “Where’s your cameraman?”
“On his way. Why don’t we run through what you plan to say?”
“Like a warm-up.”
“You got it.”
“Cool,” she said, applauding herself. “Should I stop pushing them, or keep going?”
“Whatever’s easiest for you.”
“I think it looks better if I’m doing my nanny thing,” she said. “Can you make sure not to include their faces? Their mom’s pretty strict about that.”
“I’ll tell Chuck once he gets here.”
“Cool.” She tilted to favor her good side. “How’s my light?”
“Perfect. Go for it.”
“Well. I was watching the twins. My other twins, haha. Then.” Her brow pinched with consternation. “I saw this thing. Floating. I was like, ‘Whoooa, what is that?’ ”
She broke character to smile at me.
“Excellent. Do me a favor,” I said. “I went out there with my scouting camera. Take a look and show me where the body was when you first noticed it.”
Camille nodded. I scrolled through the photos I’d taken that morning.
“Kind of there,” she said, waggling her finger at the pier remnants.
“The third post.”
“Yeah. Or the one next to it. Kind of between.”
“And what about where it touched the rocks?”
“Um. There?”
“Are you sure?”
“I think? Are you going to ask me that on camera?”
“It’s the news,” I said “We want to be as accurate as possible.”
“Oh yeah.”
“How about the time? When’d you first see it?”
“Um. With Francie and Marnie, we usually went to the park around nine or ten. Later if they woke up late. Sorry, I feel like maybe this isn’t what you need.”
“No no no, you’re doing great,” I said. “See if you can remember about how long you waited before placing the call to 911.”
“I...” A lightbulb went off. “You know what.”
She stepped away from the swings and began whipping through her phone. The twins gurgled unhappily.
“Push them for a sec?” Camille said.
I pushed the twins. They wrenched around to stare at me. They looked petrified. I didn’t blame them. I wondered what it would be like to have twins. I wondered what it would be like to be a manny; how many followers I could amass. I could call myself EastBayBodies2Babies.
“Okay,” Camille said, proudly. “Here’s my footage.”
She handed me her phone, cued to a video. The title stamp read India Basin Shoreline Park, January 8, 2026, 9:27 a.m. A pair of identical twin girls stood poised at the top of the double slides. They were two years old, chubby and grave, one dressed in blue, the other in red.
Ready? Camille’s voice said. One, two, three, goooo!
The girl in red sat gingerly and inched down, slowing herself with her shoes.
Her sister leapt headfirst, came flying off the end, face-planted, and burst into tears.
Different styles.
Whoopsy-daisy! Camille yelled.
Still filming, she embraced the injured twin. Teachable moment.
Marnie, poor baby, you got an owie. That’s what happens when we go too fast... Let me see, show Cami.
Marnie whimpered. Her elbow was scratched.
You’re okay. You’re fine. Up. Up. Let’s go again. Up. We’re gonna go again. Ready? Good job! What a brave girl! Okay, let’s go. Francie... Oh shit.
The camera swung up, searching for Francie.
She was running away on her fat little red legs.
Francie! Stop! Shit...
The camera shook wildly as Camille grabbed Marnie and gave chase.
Francie! I said stop!
Francie didn’t stop.
Fuh... Francie!
Camille was huffing and puffing, weighed down by thirty-five pounds of Marnie. Props to Francie, too: She was fast, almost reaching the rocks before Camille seized her by the arm.
God... dammit, Francie. You cah... can’t do that.
Francie began to bawl.
I glanced at the real Camille. Still smiling proudly. Her finest work.
Onscreen, both twins were bawling, the same plaintive miserable voice doubled and out of sync.
Girls, come on. Chill out.
They didn’t chill out.
Camille kept filming. Teachable moment.
She set Marnie on the ground, sat Francie next to her. Tears streaked their moonfaces.
We’re all going to take a breath. Ready? One, two, threeee, I’m taking care of meee... Francie. You’re not taking a breath, please. One, two, three... Oh my God. Fine. I’m not going to argue with you.
Camille sighed. Then:
Whuh.
The view shifted to the water.
Oh my God! Girls! Look! It’s a fishy! Turn around. Look. Marnie. Turn around.
Camille zoomed in, following the object as it drifted steadily closer, passing between two pier remnants like a slo-mo field goal splitting the uprights.
Tracing a smooth, beautiful path.
The twins had stopped crying.
Do you see the fishy? Say hi, fishy! Hi! Should we wave to the fishy? Let’s wave.
After about forty seconds, the object reached the embankment. It bobbed momentarily till a largish wave rolled in and shoved it sideways toward the rocks.
An arm slopped out.
Oh my God.
Linus Hao’s head surfaced and submerged.
Oh. Oh no... Mister! Hello! Mister! Can you hear me!
Picking up on the agitation in Camille’s voice, the girls began again to bawl.
Shhh. Quiet. Stop. Stop... Oh, no. Oh, shit... Mister, can you hear me? Mister!
Another wave lifted the torso fully out of the water. Only then did Camille remember that the item in her hand was not just a camera but a phone. The video ended.
“I called 911,” she said.
“Camille,” I said. “This is incredible.”
She beamed. “Really?”
“Really. I’d love a copy for the segment. Text it to me?”
She started to comply. Thought of something. “Do I get anything for it?”
“Oh jeez.” I mugged ambivalence. “We don’t pay for media.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. It’s a journalistic ethics thing. But if we end up using it, you’ll get onscreen credit.”
“Can you put up my socials?”
“I think I can probably swing that. I have to run it by my boss.”
“Okay, one sec.”
Having come to a standstill, the blond twins whined and kicked their legs furiously.
“Shhh,” Camille said, giving them each a shove. “How long till your cameraman gets here? I have to get them home for nap.”
I waited for the video to come through on my phone, then pretended to read a text. “Dangit. He got called to another story. We’ll have to schedule a reshoot.”
Camille’s face fell. “Oh.”
“I know,” I said. “The news never sleeps. Thank you, though. This is awesome.”
“When’s it going to be on?”
“I’ll let you know if it airs. Thanks again.”
As I walked off, I could hear the twins devolving into full-throated tantrums.