I realized that I started writing about this experience without finishing it. I suppose some stories need a lifetime to tell. Little by little, over the quiet, almost traceless passage of time.
The unbelievable thing about living in the house of a murder case is that — it turned out we knew the woman who was murdered in the house that we moved into.
When the murder case first happened, I was a junior. I knew that it was a big case but that was all I knew. I remember glancing out the window of the school bus and being…
