Chapter 9 - David Thought Financial Rescue Would Make Me Forgive the Method
When David finally spoke through counsel, his explanation followed the same logic.
The company was failing.
I would have panicked.
The buyer was good.
The deadline was artificial but real.
Our family would be financially safer after:
closing.
He believed I would eventually recognize that.
Then:
“I never wanted Laura dead.”
The evidence largely supported that.
He had researched temporary incapacity.
Not death.
He had planned a notary appointment hours later.
He expected me alive.
That distinction mattered legally.
Then Ethan.
“I never intended to seriously hurt my son.”
Again, intent did not control:
outcome.
David said the substance he gave Ethan had previously caused only brief symptoms.
That claim itself made things worse because it suggested the earlier illnesses had indeed been deliberate tests.
He eventually admitted:
them.
First time, he wanted to see how quickly symptoms appeared.
Second time, how long they lasted.
No severe outcome.
Then the kitchen.
He believed he understood what would happen.
He did not.
Doctors said Ethan could have suffered much worse complications depending on individual response.
David’s assumption that earlier survival guaranteed future safety was medically reckless.
Then my medication.
David admitted replacing some of my legitimate tablets with another medication intended to make me significantly drowsy.
I will not describe the method or substance.
He expected me to be conscious but impaired for several hours.
I had not actually taken:
it.
That was why I could pretend convincingly enough to watch him.
Then why did David think I was “down” after only minutes?
Because I told him I felt weak.
Lay down.
Closed my eyes.
He checked whether I responded.
I did not.
He assumed:
success.
Then Ethan knocked the jar.
David panicked.
Not because the jar broke.
Because Ethan became ill sooner and more dramatically than he expected.
What should a father do then?
Call for help.
He did the opposite.
Why?
David admitted he froze because emergency responders arriving too early would discover the medication situation before he could create the:
story.
So he unplugged the landline.
He intended to wait “a couple of minutes.”
That was the act hardest for me to understand.
Not business pressure.
Not control.
A crying four-year-old held his leg and David still prioritized:
narrative.
Then my phone changed everything.
David thought I left it upstairs.
When he saw it in my hand, he realized I had been awake.
That was the panic on his:
face.
Then the sentence:
“By tomorrow, everything’s mine.”
David claimed he meant business control.
I believed that was mostly true.
Not everything in our lives.
The company.
Authority under the POA.
Closing.
He had reduced our family to transactions because for several weeks that was how he was thinking.
Then the criminal and family cases separated.
Good.
I did not need one proceeding trying to solve:
everything.
The alleged medication tampering and endangerment went through criminal investigation.
The company issues through civil lawyers.
Ethan’s safety through family court.
My marriage through divorce.
Each system asked different:
questions.
Then the family-court evaluator asked me:
“Do you believe David loves Ethan?”
I wanted to say:
no.
Instead:
“Yes.”
Because I did.
That was what made it so difficult.
David loved his son.
Then endangered him because he believed he could control the risk.
Love did not make him:
safe.
The court had to evaluate both facts.
Then Ethan asked me a simpler question.
“Why did Daddy give me bad vitamins?”
I said:
“Because Dad made a very wrong decision trying to solve an adult problem.”
“Was I the problem?”
“No.”
That answer needed to be repeated many:
May you like
times.
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