Chapter 4: The Twisted Motive
While the forensic team finished bagging the solvent bottle and the gift box, Daniel walked into the downstairs guest bedroom where his father had stayed the night before.
A minute later, he came back out carrying an open leather-bound day planner he had found sitting on the nightstand.
"Sarah," Daniel said, his voice trembling so badly he could barely read the words on the page. "You need to see what he wrote."
I took the planner from him. Richard’s neat, architectural handwriting filled the entry dated December 24th:
The girl is spoiled and weak, just like her mother. A man's authority in his own family must be absolute. Since Sarah insists on protecting her from 'harsh realities,' I will teach both of them a lesson about pain. A scar will remind the girl to obey, and the mother will spend the rest of her life looking at the consequences of defying me.
A cold, suffocating rage replaced every ounce of shock in my body.
He hadn't just acted on a sudden impulse of anger. This was the calculated philosophy of a narcissist who believed that his authority was worth more than a nine-year-old girl's face.
May you like
"I want him in prison," I said, handing the planner to Officer Miller. "I don't want a plea deal. I don't want psychiatric diversion. I want him in a concrete cell for the rest of his natural life."
"With this journal and the video footage, he won't see daylight again," Miller assured me, bagging the planner as Exhibit B. "Now, we need to get to the hospital. Your daughter needs her parents."
