The Day I Dropped My Husband at the Airport, My Eight-Year-Old Daughter Warned Me Not to Go Home. Minutes Later, I Saw Why.
“You may have an opportunity to submit a statement.
You can decide how you want to participate.”
I spent three evenings writing mine.
At first, every paragraph was about Mark: his lies, his choices, his mother, the money.
Then I read it aloud and realized I had barely mentioned Lily except as the person he had endangered.
I started again.
I wrote about the way she checked locks, how she had stopped asking to ride her bicycle outside alone, and how she woke at night because she thought she heard a car in the driveway.
I described the parts of childhood that had been interrupted.