“Her sister?” he sneered. “Emily can barely manage her own life.”
Mr. Hayes reached into his briefcase and removed a thick sealed envelope.
“This was delivered to my office two days before Lily’s death,” he said. “Marked in her handwriting.”
The church felt painfully silent.
He opened it.
“If Jason claims I fell, do not accept it,” he read. “After I confronted him about Rachel, he grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise and told me, ‘If you destroy my life, I’ll destroy yours.’ I no longer felt safe.”
My stomach twisted.
“I installed a small security camera at the top of the stairs,” Mr. Hayes continued. “If something happens to me, my lawyer has instructions.”
He placed a small flash drive on the table.
“This contains the footage Lily sent me the night before she died.”
Jason stared at it, his face drained of color.
“She wanted the truth heard,” Mr. Hayes said. “And now it will be.”
Two weeks later, we sat in a police station conference room. A laptop glowed in front of us. My parents sat close together, holding hands.
The video was grainy, but unmistakable.
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