A messy divorce was coming. An audit of the children’s trust would have ruined him. The other woman was waiting.
And a man whose daughter tragically drowned is a victim.
A man whose daughter nearly died through his negligence, while he was distracted and unfaithful, is something else entirely.
So he made a choice no parent should be able to make.
He drove our living daughter to his sister Diane, two states away, and he told Diane a lie as monstrous as the one he told me — that I had abandoned the children, that I was unfit, that he needed her to raise this little girl quietly and ask no questions.
He filed to have Janice declared legally dead.
A forged timeline, a sympathetic small-town sheriff who saw a broken father, a body that conveniently never surfaced.
He built my daughter a grave with no one in it.
And he drove home to build me eight years of mourning.
