I spent my adolescence searching for a meaning in the tragedy. It wasn"t until almost ten years later that I grasped the key, a key that had been there since the beginning. Through the week of endless interviews with police officers, a trauma specialist, and more than a few psychologists, through endless questions about her quest, the religion she had constructed on her mother"s mystery, inquiries about her relationship with her father, the one question they never asked was the one I couldn"t answer. They knew then what I know now, that there can be no answer to the question “Why?” But tell that to a twelve-year-old boy, lying on a bed after passing out from shock, and you"ll learn futility at its truest.
When I came to, I at first thought it had all been a nightmare. But as my eyes focus
