Six years earlier, county records showed a dispute over a narrow strip of land beside our family property — land my father had owned outright since before I was born.

Wade Cain had tried to buy it three separate times in four months. My father rejected every offer. Attached to the assessor’s report was a handwritten note.

Owner uncooperative. Recommend escalation.

Someone else had written a date beside it, in different ink. Three weeks later, my father died in a single-vehicle accident on Route 9. He had driven that road thousands of times.

The weather was clear. No second vehicle was ever identified. The official report blamed excessive speed, driver fatigue, or possibly an animal crossing the road.

I remember exactly where I was when it all connected. The coffee mug slipped from my hand and shattered across my mother’s kitchen floor. I didn’t move.