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The call came in at 6:30 a.m. “Campus Security, Brenda Haggerty speaking,” I answered. “How can I help you?” “There’s a man on the ground.” The voice was quavery and sounded like my grandmother’s. “I think he’s dead.” According to the flashing light on the switchboard, the call came from the emergency telephone in Parking Lot A, on the very edge of campus. “Where is the body?” “On the chip trail,” said the caller. “What should we do?” This was my third time on switchboard. I barely knew how to take a call, let alone what to do with a