There is a forty-page section of a chart that I have now read that establishes it beyond any question.

Not one word of what Davis Renfrew said to me on the evening of the third of March was false.

And the sentence I heard was: your son died during the delivery.

I want to be honest that I built that.

He did not put it there in so many words.

I was thirty-three years old, four days into the worst thing that had ever happened to me, on hydromorphone, and I heard eleven words in a hospital bed and I constructed a fact out of them, and then I lived in it.

And for four years, every single person in my life who knew otherwise simply did not correct me.