Every Friday at 6 p.m. my daughter called me without fail, and the one week my phone stayed silent I drove to her house and heard a sound from upstairs that turned our quiet Tennessee life into something I still can’t fully talk about

to her. Remember that she was a mother who taught her child how to survive. That’s her legacy—not the way her life was taken, but the way she loved.”

I sat down, tears blurring my vision. Some of the jurors were crying too.

The jury left at two in the afternoon to begin deliberations. I waited with Joyce in the hallway. Amelia stayed home with Emma.

Hours continue reading …