To the living, we owe respect, but to the dead, we owe only the truth.
-Voltaire
LISA
"Kai Park...that boy was a handful when he was a child, but such a sweetheart. And Chaeyoung...she was always his shadow. Wherever Kai and Felix went, she followed. They let her. Just a year separated Chaeyoung in age from the boys. And Robert, well, he did all he could to make sure those kids were loved. Felix spent more time at his house than he did his own, because Robert was made of a sort of strength and compassion you can't find just anywhere."
Sunmi Lee clears her throat, and I watch as she stands to get a glass of water.
"You want anything to drink?"
"No ma'am," we both say in unison.
Her skin is pale contrast to her dark green dress that hangs to her knees. She's a regal, timeless sort of woman, with haunted eyes. Haunted eyes like my Roseanne.
Only there's a sense of guilt there as well, unlike Roseanne's. There's a jaded harshness to the way she carries herself, as though she's forcing herself to make it through each day.
"You have kids?" she asks us as she returns, sitting down with her water, drawing out the suspense.
"No, ma'am," we both say again.
"I'll bet you both enjoy being single and thinking time will never catch up with you."
Vernon shifts in his seat uncomfortably, but I just smile.
"I'm not married, but I'm not a bachelorette."
She studies me intently for a moment. "Chaeyoung would have liked you. She was mostly raised by her father after her mother died when she was ten. She shared a house with two men, so she was more comfortable making friends with boys than girls. She was selective with her friends more than her relationships. Not that anyone could have known."
I inch forward. "Known what?"
"Nah. I'm getting ahead of myself. You need to know first that Robert died in lockup the night he was convicted of crimes he couldn't commit. They threw every shoe and the kitchen sink at him to make him the murderer, as though that would somehow make the killings just disappear and everyone could go on with their lives."
She sips her water again, and I refrain from demanding she get to the point.
"Robert was with his kids every night. My boy was even over there a lot of those nights. Felix, of course, was there most nights as well. Robert cooked, he cleaned, he cared for his children, and he usually had others come over and hang out as well. Such a good soul and a good home, people couldn't stay away. My boy's dad left when he was a tiny little thing. Robert always talked to my boy as if he was his own, and as a single working mother, I appreciated all the help I could get. I returned the favor when I could."
She pauses, swallowing down emotion that I didn't detect in her voice. Her eyes grow dimmer.
"He never could have raped and killed those women. He couldn't even raise his hand to his own kids. My boy saw him. Felix saw him. Several of those nights, he was home with his kids and two extra. Didn't matter. They wouldn't allow the eye witness testimonies or admit them as alibies in the courtroom."
"What? Why?" Vernon asks, confused.
"Because then they couldn't convict him of murders he didn't commit," she says as though it's obvious and he's stupid for even asking.
Vernon leans back, annoyed. Not at her, but at the situation. He knows how Johnson is. He'll make something stick, and he'll cut all the corners to lock his suspect away.
