SNAP.

The heavy plastic arm of the hospital visitor chair cracked instantly under my iron grip.

I stood up without saying another word to the nurses on duty.

I didn’t waste time going to the local police station to file formal complaints.

I refused to plead for justice from corrupt officials whom the Harringtons could easily buy with offshore money.

I walked straight out into the heavy rain, got into my heavy construction truck, and picked up a five-gallon canister of highly flammable gasoline from my workshop shed.

By 4:00 PM, I was completely hidden in the bushes near the Harrington family’s perfect front porch.