30
After Salvador left, I crawled into bed and sobbed. All these years I thought I’d done the right thing. I’d never given much thought to DNA testing. It wasn’t something I was interested in. Plus, I truly believed Eddie was guilty.
Part of me still believed he was guilty. When I pictured the man standing in my sister’s kitchen that night, I pictured Eddie. How had I made such a grave mistake?
I ruined a man’s life. I failed at obtaining justice for my sister. By identifying the wrong man, I allowed an evil man to go free. The thought of all the people destroyed by my mistake gutted me.
How would I ever get past this? How could I ever be forgiven? Shattered, I took two sleeping pills and burrowed under the covers, desperate to escape all the pain I’d caused.
* * *
In the morning,I awoke to find Brandy sitting on the edge of my bed. She held up two takeaway coffees from our favorite drive-thru coffee shop. “Cream or oat milk?”
I sat up in bed, shocked by both her presence as well as the bright sunlight streaming into my bedroom. I never slept this late.
“I know you usually take regular cream in your coffee,” she continued, “but if you haven’t tried oat milk, you should. It’s so delicious. It’s the new almond milk.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You must hate me.”
“No, Aunt Ruthie. Of course, I don’t hate you.”
“I—” My throat and nose clogged. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to deprive you of your father. I thought it was him. I honestly thought—”
“Aunt Ruthie, I know.” She set both coffees on the nightstand and hugged me. Full of regret and shame, I sobbed into her shoulder. “My father warned me, but I didn’t listen.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Wiping my tears, I tried to get ahold of my emotions. Then I told her the next part of my story.
* * *
Mayford,Texas – 1987
When I pickedEddie from the lineup all those years ago, Sheriff Enquist gave a solemn nod. “Good job. He’s been our number one suspect from the beginning.”
Hearing that gave me so much relief. The fact that he was my sister’s husband surprised me at first, but as the sheriff explained, Eddie had a criminal background, and he had motive. He was also familiar with guns and had no credible alibi.
My father, however, was livid. Standing in the living room, he shouted at me as Brandy slept on the floor in front of the TV.
“Eddie didn’t kill your sister. You’re delusional. Eddie would never do something like that. Go back and tell Sheriff Enquist you made a mistake.”
“Dad, I can’t do that.”
Refusing to believe that Eddie was guilty, my father forced me into the car and drove me back to the police station. Sitting in her car seat, Brandy sucked her thumb and stared out the window. My heart ached to think about what she was going through. Did she know about her mom yet? And how would she handle learning about her father?
At the station, my own father marched inside with Brandy on his hip. I cowered behind him as he demanded to speak to Sheriff Enquist. The sheriff must’ve anticipated my father’s reaction because he didn’t seem too concerned as he ushered us back to talk.
As soon as we entered the office, I spotted Eddie’s mug shot on the desk. Seeing the picture again reassured me that I’d identified the right man.
The sheriff picked up the picture and stuck it in a file folder. “Albert, let’s leave the girls here and take a little walk.”
“I don’t want to take a walk. I want to know how you could allow my daughter to put the blame on Eddie. You and I both know he didn’t do it.”
The sheriff placed a firm hand on my father’s shoulder. “Come on, Albert. Let’s walk.”
Without asking permission, the sheriff plucked Brandy from my father and handed her to me. The weight of my niece in my arms caused a bolt of pain to shoot through me. My body hurt all over, and I wondered if I’d ever heal from what happened to me.
“Grandpa.” Brandy reached for my father, but the sheriff distracted her with a large jar of Hersey kisses.