You learn a lot serving out a life sentence. Did you know that?
Like not all criminals are evil. Sometimes desperate people do desperate things.
I was safer in prison than I ever had been under Dennis’s roof. If it hadn’t been for the stress of the trial itself and the knowledge that if the jury found me guilty I’d never see you again, I could have felt perfectly at peace.
I gave my life to Christ right before my sentencing. There was a Bible study for the women prisoners. I started going, desperate to give hope or meaning to the terror I’d lived through.
It was in prison that I learned how to pray. Of course, anybody can pray when their husband’s beating them up, but my new kind of prayers were different.
I prayed for all the other people Dennis had hurt. Asked God to heal their wounds and show them grace.
I prayed for the jury that found me guilty, the prosecutors who spread vicious lies about me, the public that devoured the scandal like vultures descending on prey.
But mostly, Justine, I prayed for you. I prayed that God would place you in a good home, that he would help you to feel loved and cherished and safe. When I heard that one of your foster families wanted to adopt you, I was thrilled. I’d already been sentenced by then, and even though I was looking into appeals, I was starting to realize there was no way I’d ever leave my cell. Your father was just too smart. The life insurance policies, the journal he kept at work. He knew that one of us was going to die, and he made provisions to make me out to be guilty no matter which of us it was.
I’m glad that you inherited that money. I prayed that your new family would use it well. By all accounts, it sounds like you’ve done well for yourself. I’m really glad about that. And I know it’s a lot to ask, Justine, probably too much, but I would certainly love to meet my grandson before the Lord calls me home.