Chapter 11 - THE TRUTH DIDN’T GIVE ANYONE THEIR LIFE BACK
The recording strengthened Kristen's self-defense claim.
It also destroyed what remained of my mother's defense.
But nothing about that felt like victory.
Tyler was still dead.
Kristen still woke screaming.
Our baby was still being monitored more frequently because of the stress and dehydration she'd endured.
And I still had to live with the messages I had sent.
Keep the peace.
You know how Mom is.
Tyler's immature.
I'll deal with it later.
Later had arrived in a shed.
The district attorney's office told Kristen's attorney that prosecutors were continuing to review Tyler's death but that the physical evidence increasingly supported her account of an assault followed by a defensive struggle.
No instant declaration.
No dramatic courthouse dismissal.
Procedure.
Evidence.
Waiting.
Diane faced separate legal exposure connected to imprisoning Kristen, the restraints, the drugged water, and her actions after discovering Tyler injured.
Her attorney stopped talking about “family discipline.”
That phrase had become indefensible.
My extended family changed tone.
Some apologized.
Others simply disappeared.
My cousin deleted the post about evil people.
He never called Kristen.
She noticed.
I did too.
Then Kristen asked me to meet her without either set of parents.
We sat in the rental house after a prenatal appointment.
She placed her hands over her stomach.
“The baby's okay today.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Neither of us smiled.
Then she said:
“I don't know if I can come home.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
She looked directly at me.
“You understand why your mother can't be there.”
“Yes.”
“You understand why Tyler couldn't be there.”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“But I don't know if you understand why I might not be able to be there with you.”
That hurt in a way I had no right to complain about.
“I failed you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't know this would happen.”
“I know.”
That was worse.
She wasn't accusing me of predicting a kidnapping.
She was accusing me of something simpler.
I knew enough to act earlier.
And didn't.
“I kept thinking if I made your mom happy, she'd stop,” Kristen said. “Then I realized every time I gave her something, she just learned I could be pushed.”
She wiped her cheek.
“And every time I came to you, you asked me for a little more patience.”
There was nothing to defend.
So I didn't.
“What do you need?”
“Space.”
I nodded.
“And counseling, if we try.”
“If?”
She closed her eyes.
“Ethan, I still love you.”
I waited.
“That doesn't automatically mean I feel safe building a family with you.”
May you like
Truth had cleared Kristen of one kind of suspicion.
It couldn't clear me of being the husband who had taught her she had to endure enough pain before I would call it serious.
