Their Favoritism Resulted In A Cruel Outcome Chapter 20
On the day the Worthington women were buried, Charleston was lashed by heavy rain.
The family had lost the right to decide anything. The victims’ rights office and several of the women’s friends arranged the funeral.
As the hearses left the old house, residents lined both sides of the road.
At first, television commentators talked about how brave these women had been.
Some said my grandmother and mother had died for their family.
Others praised my sisters-in-law, who had shielded me and the children, as noble martyrs.
Listening to it, I felt only that those words were very far from the truth.
When my grandmother walked into the smoke, she was not thinking about the Worthington family’s reputation.
When my mother climbed toward the vent on tied sheets, she only wanted someone outside to hear her.
When my sisters-in-law pressed the children beneath them, there was only fear in their hearts.
If they could have lived, who would have chosen death?
If my grandmother had learned the truth sooner, she would have smashed every whiskey glass on my father’s table with her cane.
My mother would have taken my sisters-in-law and the children and left that old house.
Lauren, Rachel, and Hannah would have hired lawyers and sought protective orders, forcing everyone involved to answer for what they’d done.
They could have been angry. They could have fought back. They could have walked away from those men forever.
A fake order and a locked door stole every one of those choices from them.
Later, the memorial inscription prepared by the foundation was delivered to the victims’ representatives.
It was full of phrases like “loyalty,” “sacrifice,” and “family courage.”
The lawyer who had represented my grandmother for years crossed out every one of those words.
She left only two sentences:
“They committed no crime.”