The book A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own has been professionally edited and will be published this year. To pique interest, I will share tidbits from the manuscript with you each Tuesday.
Chapter 1 – He Called Him Cholla
. . .
A professional photograph taken at the Stardust in Las Vegas, Nevada, is of my dad, Craig, and my mother. Dated December 7, 1964. They’d taken a road trip together. The three of them. This night the show was Le Lido De Paris.
I was five months old.
I knew this picture very well, too. It had been displayed in my parents’ house for years. The funny thing was — Craig had been cut out of it. That was the very last picture Craig ever put in this album of my father or mother. The album ended with Dad’s obituary on December 8, 2010.
What happened during the missing forty-six years? Their relationship lived on through their deeds of darkness and the unfinished business they’d left behind.
My father, Craig, and my mother. The band of thieves had been created and the quantum jump into rape, murder, and pedophilia was just a few steps away. . .