Of Sinister [upd]: Index

The “Index of Sinister” began as a grief project. In 2003, Pondo’s daughter, a grad student in Flagstaff, was killed in a crosswalk by a hit-and-run driver. The driver was never found. But a week before her death, Pondo found a note his daughter had scribbled in a journal: “The crossing guard wasn’t there today. Felt wrong.”

But one drawer is locked. Behind it: the “Red File.” Pondo will not show a reporter its contents. He will only read one entry aloud, his voice dry as dust: index of sinister

He closes the olive-green drawer. The label reads: . The “Index of Sinister” began as a grief project

“I found this one this morning,” he says. “Before you arrived.” But a week before her death, Pondo found

“Oct. 3, 2001. Tucson. I-10 mile marker 42. Three crows on a power line. Two days later, a Greyhound flipped.”

As the interview ends, Pondo pulls a fresh index card from his shirt pocket.

“Sinister,” Pondo says, “is not evil. Evil is loud. Sinister is left-handed. It’s the detail that doesn’t fit, the one you almost miss. My index is a map of almost-missed things.”