“I don’t know. I think I had some idea of interrupting them, catching them. My mother was hurting, and I wanted him to hurt, too. But I couldn’t go through with it. Didn’t want to go through with it.” He cocked his head. “How did you know?”

An older woman came forward to tell the story of her daughter, Chelsey. I heard audible sobs when she revealed—partway through her story—that she spoke on behalf of her daughter only because her daughter was no longer here. Chelsey had committed suicide, never having recovered from the damage of what Larry had done.