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.

Her mother was bleeding and she finally decided to speak up.

Emma’s bravery saved me and destroyed me at the same time.

Because I should have protected her before it became necessary for a four-year-old girl to become a key witness during her brothers’ funeral.

There’s no nice way to say that.

There are only more or less honest ways.

The criminal proceedings against Miriam moved forward with a mixture of public scandal and family resistance.

There is always someone who wants to turn the monster into a confused old woman, evil into illness, the method into error, the crime into a “family tragedy”.

I learned to hate that word.