JR was a strong man, though he smoked. Perhaps that was his
only permitted weakness.
Even now, in his darkest hour, he would no doubt maintain a stoicism unequaled in the world of hominids; a rigidity well-honed through years of knuckle-bustin' working class ardor.
He had handed over all her computers to the cops – a curiously trusting act in these times of hyper-surveillance – hoping against hope that they would find some clues as to M's disappearance, but nothing turned up. Nothing at all. It's as if she had been whisked away by extraterrestrials or some such.
JR will slowly recover.