My family celebrated while my son was buried—then demanded his trust the next day, and I realized his death was no accident but the start of a chilling betrayal
had seen enough of human behavior to be unsurprised by most of it but had not become indifferent.
He reviewed the documents I had photographed while still at my parents’ table. His expression as he read was not dramatic. It was the controlled expression of someone processing information and arriving at a professional assessment.
