I am not sure how much I believed he would actually kill himself. I had just arrived at my dad’s house with my newborn son and my Bar-bri books, smelling of leaking breast milk and feeling torn about being away from my 3 and 5 year olds all day to study.
My sister Robyn was throwing her bag in her mom’s silver Lexus SUV and juggling a few photo albums. She was a budding photographer.
So at first all the photo albums didn’t seem weird. But she wasn’t her usual chipper self. When I got inside, my stepmom, Bonnie, was on the phone.
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