This time, he photographed a page near the back.
There were three columns. Names. Dates. Results.
Most of the names had been crossed out.
One had been circled.
The officer asked my husband if he recognized it.
My husband stepped closer.
Then he stopped.
“That’s my cousin.”
His mother said nothing.
“Why is my cousin in there?” he asked.
She looked away.
“She volunteered.”
“For what?”
“For observation.”
“She was sixteen.”
His voice broke on the last word.
I stared at him.
He had never mentioned this.
Not once.
The officer’s expression hardened.
“Was she treated?”
My mother-in-law didn’t answer.
“Ma’am?”
Still nothing.
My husband stepped backward.
“Mom.”
She finally looked at him.
“She was ill.”
“You told me she had an autoimmune condition.”
“She did.”
“You said the doctors couldn’t figure it out.”
“They couldn’t.”
The officer interrupted.
“And you believed your treatment caused improvement?”
