I do not have children, so I can never know the terrible loss that comes from losing a child; I can only imagine the pain and sense of wrongness, even if such a death came from disease, or an honest accident, or some natural disaster.
But what if the loss has come with more questions than answers, when you don’t know if it was accidental or deliberate, when there are no explanations, with nothing natural or honest about the circumstances? What do you do when there is such gross miscarriage of procedure that the true details of your child’s death remain as poorly sketched out as a badly written crime novel?
What do you do when eight years later, you still have no answers?
And what do you do when the people keeping the answers from you have enough money and power to buy their own small city in Florida in order to keep those answers – and other answers to even more mysterious deaths than that of your son – from the light of justice?
If you’re Victoria Britton, you keep speaking out. Listen to the whole story here, and be amazed, as I am, at the strength of this noble goddess.
Share her story. Tell others.
And here is the ballad I wrote for Kyle… I pray that someday his mother shall find the answers she seeks.