It was a drizzly morning in Ogden, Kansas. I was eight years old, living in a trailer park with my abusive step-mom Judy who, after screaming on the phone for what seemed like an hour, was now squatting down in front of me. "Well," she hissed in my face, "they're coming to take you away, hope you're happy."
I was. In fact, I'd never been happier. But when two child protective services workers knocked on our front door later that day, my heart sank to my stomach. I was finally going into foster care, but Lisa, my little sister and best friend, was staying behind. She was four years younger than me, with wispy hair, and a sweet demeanor. When I turned back to take one last look of her, there was terror in her bright green eyes.
That was 1969. I didn't see Lisa again until 2007, when I testified at her sentencing hearing for brutally murdering a pregnant woman named Bobbie Jo Stinnett; she cut the baby out of Stinnett's belly with a knife. On the stand, Lisa looked just as scared as the day I left her 36 years ago.
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