“For life.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t teach a toddler that way.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She looked toward the responders.
Then back at me.
“I had a plan.”
That was the first time she admitted it.
A plan.
Not an accident.
Not a mistake.
Not a moment of bad judgment.
A plan.
“What plan?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
One of the responders stepped between us.
“That conversation can wait.”
My wife looked at him.
“You’re making assumptions.”
“No,” he said. “We’re documenting what happened.”
She looked at me again.
“You’re destroying our family over one misunderstanding.”
I stared at her.
“One misunderstanding?”
I thought about our daughter gripping the cage bars.
I thought about her tiny knees hitting the floor when she collapsed.
I thought about the phone recording every second.
And then I thought about the other videos.
