I demanded to listen to Daniel’s interrogation. Through the glass, I watched him collapse. “She warned me,” he sobbed.
“She said she wouldn’t let another mistake live in the house.”
“And you did nothing,” the detective said flatly. Daniel admitted what he had never said aloud. He had seen that look before.
As a child. With pets. Animals she deemed weak or sick.
She called it mercy. “I was afraid of her,” he whispered. That was when I understood the truth that hollowed me out.
My son didn’t die because of an accident. He didn’t die because of nature or fate. He died because the people closest to him chose fear, silence, and ideology over his life.
The hospital apologized. Policies changed. Settlements were offered.
Continue reading…
