My four-year-old daughter, Emma, stood completely still for a moment—then suddenly rushed toward the pastor, shouting something that brought the entire room into stunned silence.

His voice came out hollow, almost childlike.

Miriam looked at him as if she still expected to find there the boy who always justified her.

“I did what you were never going to do,” he spat. “I freed you.”

That phrase made even the most blind relatives take a step back.

Because there was no longer any room for misunderstanding.

That didn’t sound like an accident.