Laurel Dunaway
Journal Entry
It wasn’t hard to lie. They made it easy. They set it up so the words could practically roll right off of my tongue. They were convinced they’d caught their killer. They were one step shy of celebrating, a drink or two, pats on the back for a job well done. I was the final step prohibiting them from getting to where they wanted to be. Of course, being the fine officers of the law they are, they were also genuinely curious about what I knew. Even so, they wanted a certain story—an easy story—the kind of story that resulted in the least amount of paperwork. This made it easy to allow them to lead the witness.
“I know this is a shock, Mrs. Dunaway,” the detective tells me. He’s not sure if he means it. He’s sizing me up, trying to gauge what I know. “Forgive me
