For years, I’d wanted my father to give me one honest answer that would make the past understandable.

The camera had given investigators a record he couldn’t explain away merely by sounding more certain than I did.

It didn’t answer every question.

It didn’t make my family whole.

It didn’t erase what happened.

But it allowed me to stop waiting for his agreement before protecting myself.

I put bread in the toaster.

Poured milk into a glass.