When my shaking ten-year-old begged me to hurry home, I had no idea a nightmare was waiting. I raced inside to find my husband and child cold and motionless on the living room rug. Paramedics rushed in, but the lead officer grabbed my arm, shaking his head. “Ma’am, this wasn’t an accident…”

voice projected, tinny and distorted, from the carpet.

“Double victim code! Unresponsive adult male, pediatric male barely palpable pulse! Suspected chemical poisoning, possible cyanide compound! Get me dual advanced life support units immediately!” I shrieked, never breaking the rhythm of my compressions.

“Units are en route, Ma’am. Is the environment continue reading …