P 4 N Z 3 R · 2025-05-24
NPD ID: 302-179-4427
Rank: Detective, Special Investigations
DOB: June 4, 1978
DOH: October 12, 2000
Status: Deceased
Date of Death: October 16, 2021
Cause of Death: Suicide (Unconfirmed)
Partner at Time of Death: N/A
Last Assigned Case: Archived – Access Restricted
Summary:
Detective Eli Marris served 21 years with the Nashville Police Department, with commendations in Organized Crime suppression and multiple task force rotations. Records indicate he had taken leave in the weeks leading up to his death. Found deceased in a condemned property outside the Shelby Park district. Incident report marked confidential under internal policy directive 4.17. No foul play determined. Personal effects unrecovered.
Note: Closed case. No pending appeals. Access to details requires Level 3 authorization.
P 4 N Z 3 R · 2025-05-24
Obituary – Detective Eli Marris
June 4, 1978 – October 16, 2021
It is with deep respect that the Nashville Police Department announces the passing of Detective Eli Marris, who served with honor in the Special Investigations Division for over two decades. Known for his dedication to complex casework and his quiet commitment to justice, Detective Marris earned the respect of his colleagues and the gratitude of the community.
He is survived by his former spouse, Catherine Marris, and no children. Detective Marris will be remembered not only for his service, but for his personal integrity and unshakable work ethic.
A private memorial will be held. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the City of Nashville’s First Responders Mental Health Fund.
P 4 N Z 3 R · 2025-05-24
[Handwritten Letter on Cream Stationery, Folded Neatly – No Return Address]
Recipient: Sgt. Laurel Keane
(Delivered via personal drop-off, not mail)
Laurel,
I’m not sure if I should be writing this, or what good it does, but there are things I can't say out loud yet—not to anyone who might be listening.
I read the obituary.
It took me three tries to finish it. Not because of the words, but because of what wasn’t there. No mention of me. No mention of you. "No surviving partner."
I guess we were ghosts before this even happened.
I keep reading the report, too. The one they gave me. Suicide. No sign of struggle. "Unstable due to prior case stress." You’ve probably seen the same lines. Maybe cleaner versions. Maybe dirtier ones.
I keep thinking—if I’d just told someone. If I hadn’t argued with him that night. If I’d gotten him out of that apartment. If I’d—
I want it to be true, Laurel. I need it to be suicide. Because then it’s mine to carry. Because if it wasn’t, and he was taken from us, then I let them do it.
I don’t know what you’ve got on that file of yours. I don’t want to know. Not yet. Not until I can breathe again without feeling like it’s all going to come spilling out.
But you weren’t mentioned either. I noticed that. “No assigned partner.”
So I guess we’re in the same column now.
Still here,
—Micah
PS, I left a box for you. It had whatever was left on his desk over at my place. I can't look at it any more.