After dropping my husband off at Houston’s airport for a business trip, my eight-year-old daughter grabbed my arm and whispered, “Mom, please don’t take us home

He did not resist. He was sitting on the patio step with the can beside him and he had not opened it.

The crowbar had gone through the glass in the back door and nothing else. The gas was not touched. There was no fire and there was never any fire and he got no further than a door.

Chelo was arrested at the scene and released the same evening and was never charged.

I want that on the record because about four hundred people in Lark Hollow decided that week that his mother was in it with him, and she was not, and the bag in her hand had his passport in it.

And the five weeks, which I have had to describe properly to one person because I had been describing them as gathering evidence.

From the sixth of September I ran my own house like a job.

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