Daddy’s murder investigation continued to uncover new clues to the last moments of his life. Even as I tried to watch a VHS copy of Oliver Stone’s JFK, I couldn’t sit through it without my mind flashing to dad’s last minutes alive. Someone must have […]
“I used to track all of my first dates in a spreadsheet,” I said, pausing like I’d rehearsed. “Turns out, I put out 58% of the time.” The packed room erupted in laughter, which eased my anxiety just enough to continue with my second joke. […]
Trauma hijacked my life in the little house on Oak Ridge Road. It wasn’t my first trauma and would not be my last, but we all became closer that day because of it. My mom, my brother Jason, dad’s assistant Beth, and others who worked […]
There was a time when you could call a person on their land line phone, and it would just ring and ring and ring all day as long as there wasn’t an answering machine or person to pick up the call on the other end. […]
Lake Hamilton’s choppy waves slapped across the sides of the Act’n Up Ag’n as it hustled its way from Margarita Bay a little after 5:00 p.m. on Sunday, July 19, 1992. At 5:22 p.m., dad’s guest, Sandra Locke, borrowed his brick cell phone in a […]
Daddy throttled back his 32-foot Wellcraft Excalibur to a slow, wake-appropriate crawl as he and his guest, Sandra Locke, pulled into the cove around the corner from Beacon Manor where the Penningtons lived. “Johnny would come in and honk the horn for us,” Frances Pennington […]
