PART 1

Five years after my husband and our three sons died in a terrible storm, my youngest daughter woke me in the middle of the night and whispered, “Mom, I don’t think the police told us the truth about Dad.” Then she handed me a note she had found hidden inside her teddy bear, and the moment I recognized my husband’s handwriting, my hands began to shake.

My husband, Brandon, and I had eight children together, five daughters and three sons.

Our home in Cedar Falls was always noisy and chaotic, but I loved every single moment of our life together.

When our boys were old enough, Brandon started taking them on father-and-son weekends to an old family cabin tucked away in the woods near Pine Ridge.

It quickly became their favorite tradition.

But five years ago, Brandon took our three sons on one of those weekend trips, and none of them ever came home to us.

A violent storm swept through the mountains that evening and caused widespread destruction.

According to the official police reports, Brandon lost control of his vehicle on an extremely slippery road and sent it plunging down a steep embankment.

No one survived the crash.

I was completely broken, but something about the accident never truly made sense to me.

Brandon knew those mountain roads better than almost anyone in the county, and he was an extraordinarily careful driver whenever our children were in the car with him.

He always checked the weather forecast thoroughly before he ever pulled out of the driveway.

I couldn’t understand how he could have made such a catastrophic mistake on a road he drove every month.

Our close family friend, Deputy Austin Parker, was among the very first emergency responders at the scene.

He sat in my living room and assured me that the severe storm, poor visibility, and excessive speed had caused the tragedy.

“There’s nothing suspicious about what happened up there, Hannah,” Austin told me with tears in his eyes.

“It was just a horrible, tragic accident.”