Chapter 19 — What I Chose Not to Become

I think often, now, about the version of that week where I made the other choice — and it is not a comfortable thing to admit that the other choice was right there, close enough to touch, and that I wanted it.

I had the means.

I had the men, willing and able.

I had, God knows, the motive, and I had the grief and the rage that make a man feel entitled to anything.

And I had, buried under nineteen years of ordinary fatherhood, all the training and the coldness required to do it and never be caught.