She raised it herself, at the kitchen table, on a Tuesday.

“I’ve been trying to say this since about March,” she said. “I’ve started four times.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Margaret, I swear to God, if one more person tells me I don’t have to.”

I shut up.

“I did it on purpose,” she said. “That’s the first thing. It wasn’t a mix-up and the police didn’t ask me to. I knew exactly what it would look like when I pointed at you and I did it anyway.”