Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

She described pressure from Julian and fear of losing her career.

I read the statement twice.

I believed she might genuinely regret her choices.

I also believed she had repeated opportunities to refuse them.

I was not required to decide whether her apology was enough.

It wasn’t a transaction I had entered into.

A reporter asked whether I had forgiven her.

I declined to discuss it.