Chapter 3 - THE TRUTH HIDDEN IN THE DARK
While officers radioed for detectives and sealed off the entire prison wing, Mason told us everything he’d kept locked inside for six long years.
He’d been only two years old when it happened—too young for anyone to think he could remember anything at all. That night, he’d woken up thirsty and wandered to the hallway. He’d seen his uncle in the kitchen, arguing with Dad. He’d seen the flash of silver, the way Dad fell silent and crumpled to the floor. He’d watched Douglas clean himself, slip the knife beneath Mom’s mattress, and drape her blood-stained robe over the chair where she’d left it before sleeping.
“I was scared,” Mason whispered, burying his face against Mom’s shoulder. “Uncle Douglas looked up and saw me. He put his finger to his lips and said if I told anyone… he’d hurt you. I didn’t understand all the words, but I knew he meant it. I didn’t want you to go away.”
Mom let out a broken sob, pressing her face to his hair. “Oh, my sweet boy… you carried this all alone for so long…”
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The lead detective arrived within twenty minutes—the same man who’d handled the original case. He looked at Douglas, then at Mason, then pulled out his old case file and flipped through the pages slowly.
“We never looked for anyone else,” he admitted quietly. “Everything pointed to her. We never questioned the motive… or who stood to gain.”
