Name: Margaret McBride
Relation: Dee’s sister
Date: July 29, 1991
Interviewer: Suze
Location: Ma’s House
Suze: You’re sure you want to do this now?
Peg: I’m fine. I’m good.
Suze: Okay. Why did you keep Dee’s relationship with Frank a secret?
Peg: She asked me to. She said she knew you and Ma and Pete wouldn’t like it. Wouldn’t like him.
Suze: Why did she think that?
Peg: He’s older. He’s a player, you know? Honestly, he’s a piece of shit.
Suze: Why do you say that?
Peg: He’s a liar and a cheater.
Suze: You met him?
Peg: Yeah, twice.
Suze: When was the last time you saw him?
Peg: I don’t remember. Beginning of the summer, maybe? I didn’t like him. Leif didn’t like him, so we didn’t hang out. Leif and him got into a fight.
Suze: Okay. So when was the last time you saw Dee?
Peg: The Fourth of July.
Suze: What did you do on the Fourth?
Peg: The day before, Dee called me to say that Frank was cheating on her and she was going to confront him. I convinced her to wait on it and to come spend the Fourth with me and Leif. But before that, we went down to the lake for the fireworks. Just me and her. Smoked some joints. Nothing crazy.
Suze: And what happened on the Fourth? When did she leave? Did she say where she was going?
Peg: Leif and I dropped acid. We thought Dee did it too, but now . . . I’m not sure. I don’t think she did. She walked in on me and Leif having sex. She had my camera. She took a picture . . . while we were . . .
Suze: She took a picture of you having sex?
Peg: Worse than that.
Suze: Worse how?
Peg: We were being rough. With each other.
Suze: He was hitting you?
Peg: She didn’t see what she thought she saw.
Suze: What do you think she saw?
Peg: Leif beating me up.
Suze: What did she see?
Peg: I told you. We were messing around. But rough.
Suze: He hit you?
Peg: He didn’t mean to.
Suze: But Dee didn’t know that, right?
Peg: I mean. No. That’s why I said she . . . she didn’t know what she saw.
Suze: Was she upset?
Peg: I don’t know.
Suze: You didn’t see her face? Her reaction?
Peg: I . . . I don’t know. I don’t remember. I can’t remember.
Suze: Okay, it’s okay. So she saw . . . this. And she took a picture. And she left after that? Did she say where she was going? Did she say if she was going to find Frank?
Peg: She said . . . she said . . . I can’t remember.
Suze: Do you remember if she said anything at all before she left? Do you remember what time it was when she left?
Peg: Oh my God, I can’t remember, Suze. I can’t remember.
I was embarrassed that my niece had read this. Dana had highlighted the last part and drawn a green star next to it: Oh my God, I can’t remember, Suze. I can’t remember, as if it were the key to the case, as if it explained something crucial about me, about what had happened. Maybe it did. The scariest part about the interview was that I had absolutely no memory of it at all. I couldn’t even drum up a picture of it in my mind—where Suze and I might have sat, what time of day it was, if we were drinking coffee or wine, if there was light in the kitchen left over from the day, or if it was dark and we’d lit the kerosene lamps Ma had always loved because they reminded her of her childhood. I couldn’t recollect a single detail.