Vega paused the footage.
No one spoke.
Finally she said, “We’re getting a warrant.”
Ryan was arrested at 4:40 that afternoon as he walked out of his attorney’s office.
He did not resist.
According to Vega, he looked almost relieved.
I did not see him.
I did not want to.
At least, that is what I told myself.
In reality, part of me was terrified that if I saw his face, I would recognize the man I had loved.
I would remember him carrying me from the bathroom after I tore a ligament in my ankle.
I would remember him sitting beside my father’s hospice bed reading baseball scores aloud.
I would remember fifteen Christmas mornings.
Fifteen anniversaries.
Fifteen years of ordinary gestures that had once looked like proof.
Love is cruel that way.
It does not disappear simply because the person who inspired it turns out to be monstrous.
