About an hour later, I had eavesdropped by the door when two police cruisers pulled into our driveway, their lights on and sirens blazing. I scurried away to my room when the somber face officer delivered the news of the deaths to my mother, whose shrieks of denial could be heard from behind the shut door to my bedroom.
I put together the full scope of the story with the bits and pieces of information that had gradually come my way the next few days, as relatives we hadn’t seen in ages trickled into town for the funeral.
The pastor’s eulogy wrapped up, and another man took to the pulpit, his arms raised to direct a pair of final songs.