December 17 – 18, 2011 – Day 16 – 17 of Morgan’s investigation – last of the packing

 

 

Morgan and her Dad

Morgan and her Dad

I sent a text message to detective Rob that some of Morgan’s small things might be missing, I had already verbalized this to him but I wanted him to have it also on a text message.  There was a focus on things out of place, especially missing items.  One of the jewelry items initially thought to be missing had been accounted for, but a disturbingly large number were not, pretty much everything else of value.  We had finished with her room, the car we shared, and her car that had sat for months in the driveway.  The jewelry was not to be found anywhere.

It represented many of the milestones of her life and I was wondering if the stalker had come in the house at some point and taken it.  It was so disturbing to think about it and I chose to put it off for the time being.

When we were going through her car another of those momma warning signals went off.  Morgan was not a neat person.  She had little bits of clutter always in her life.  Her car was no different and as we totally emptied it, where I remembered a little clutter there was now nothing.

Now I was wondering if perhaps the times they could not find the stalker if he was hiding out in Morgan’s car?  I really wanted that to come to a conclusion and her stalking case had really seemed have lost all of its steam.  Detective Rob still had a short list of interviews to complete, but that was about it.  I wondered if they should fingerprint Morgan’s car?  Of course it would be a long shot but there was a feel to it that someone else had been in it, it just didn’t look like it did when Morgan was the only occupant. Unfortunately I was told by the detective because we had no other prints to compare them to it wouldn’t matter if we found prints anyway.  I just didn’t understand what I was being told, on TV they look for prints and keep them in case an arrest is made and then they compare them…is this not true?

The answer as to how Morgan had died we thought we would know any day now and I hung on that answer.  She had seen her doctor right before her death, and her doctor was now absolutely shocked to hear of Morgan’s passing.  I spoke with her about it and I promised to share the autopsy with her as soon as I had it.  All I could tell her was the same thing I had been telling everyone else for weeks, “it was a mystery” which was wearing very thin for me.  There had to be some indication, some clue!  But this is where I was, and I could not wait for some clarity.  Knowing it was very close was helpful.

Today is February 1, 2013 – And the focus is so much sharper than it was back then.  Things that were questionable, very questionable I did not see like that, nor did Steve.  We pretty much accepted whatever we were told and tried to fit it in our thought patterns.  Today obvious things are just that, obvious things, and evidence to be filed and added to the list.  I am not at all sure just when it changed, but it has.  Over this past year it has become apparent that I have accepted the unthinkable to a sufficient degree to be able to deal with this intelligently.  A year ago I had not, and as for suggestions on what to do I am at a loss.  All of our close friends who in their own right all have had some expertise in handling things such as this were as much at a loss as Steve and I were.

What we were finding then was not minor in any way.  Morgan’s missing jewelry is still an issue without an answer today, as are a growing list of other items.  The Sheriffs have no desire to visit the questions, and I am at a loss as to explain how that can be.

It has been without exception that every expert we have been able to have review a portion of her case that is within their expertise has ended of the opposite opinion as the original conclusion, and even more so of the revised “official opinion” that came out last summer.

I continue to fight for my little girl and ask for just the truth to be followed.  It has not happened as of yet, but I am hopeful that it will.  Justice for Morgan is the very least she deserves,  and helping others will really help to bring some resolution to what happened to her.  Morgan’s heart was bigger than any heart I have ever seen in my life – she has accomplished more in the way of helping others than I can ever imagine, and I am determined, in all the years that I will be granted to stay on this earth, to follow in Morgan’s footsteps.

 

December 13 – 16, 2011 – Day 12 – 15 of Morgan’s investigation – Scholarship funds and house hunting.

Aspentree

At the suggestion of friends looking out much further into the future than I was, a scholarship fund was suggested to honor Morgan, and after a little thought I landed on the Theatre Program at the local college that Morgan had attended – Colorado Mountain College.  Morgan had so many good times there.  Philosophy and English and Comparative Religions were among her absolute favorites, while Ballet and Yoga had become mainstays in her life, I doubt she would have ever gone long without them.

With so much help from Debra Burleigh at CMC, who had also always been so helpful for Morgan during her time there, the fund was established through Carol J. Efting, Scholarship and Records Coordinator for the Colorado Mountain College Foundation and will serve as a quiet reminder of Morgan and what she had been able to achieve with her perseverance and dedication – for many years to come.

We knew it would have made Morgan very happy because one of her big things in life was to always try and get others to stay in school, go to college, and learn as much as they could.  Support in her memory will fund a student in the Theatre program and Graeme Duke was the first year’s recipient – congratulations Graeme!  And thank you to all those that contributed to the fund, and are continuing to contribute to the fund – it will make a huge difference in another student’s life as well.

In order for contributions to be tax deductible checks should be made payable to the CMC Foundation – earmarked to CMC Spring Valley Theatre in memory of Morgan Ingram. The CMC Foundation tax ID number is 74-2393418.  All contributors who provide a legitimate address will receive a formal acknowledgment letter.  If you have any questions you can contact Carol J. Efting, Scholarships and Records Coordinator, Colorado Mountain College, PO Box 1763, Glenwood Springs, CO 81602.  Her phone # is 970-947-8355 and email [email protected]  website: cmcfoundation.org

After 2 weeks, that we had never sat down to have an in depth interview with the detectives since the morning of Morgan’s death and that continued to bother me.  The morning of her death Detective Rob interviewed both Steve and myself, but it was very brief and we were in shock – now that things had calmed down a little, and our minds were seeing things much more clearly again, it would have been so nice to get questions from the Sheriff’s in order to give them information that was not readily available to us the morning Morgan died because of the state of confusion we were in.  I kept asking and they kept assuring us that they had what they needed for now.

Steve and I spent lots of time house hunting. Without Morgan, and with a stalker who was no longer muscling his unwanted presence into our immediate plans, we were far more wide open.  Anywhere actually, I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible – I couldn’t stand being in this house where something so horrible had happened to our daughter.  But nothing seemed bright enough and I knew I could not live in dark and dreary the way I was feeling, so after a few intense days we put that search on the back burner again.

Morgan’s friends were stopping by and I was able to spend a lot of time with them.  It was so wonderful to see them all and they were a huge comfort.  I know we were all in some stage of denial and disbelief.  That feeling seemed like it might soften with time, but there was no danger of it going away.

Every piece of electronics that had been there for our use in trying to catch the stalker was stripped away and packed up.  The Sheriff’s department had never reviewed the video cameras yet, and I still had things I wanted to see.  Detective Rob had thought I just wanted to leave it with the Sheriffs department to be put in the evidence locker, but that was never the plan and I requested the DVR back.  He said as soon as it was copied we could have it back.

I knew the stalker was still on there somewhere, caught on tape, waiting to be seen by someone who could sit for hours and review every camera angle, and while we still did not know what happened to Morgan, we would soon, and I wanted to be ready to search whatever we still had when that time came.

On a hunch, a meticulous search of the perimeter of the house was conducted.  Not by the Sheriffs, but by family members.  Anything out of place that could be of value was the target, just as things out of place in her room had been found this was an effort to add to that.  The stalker might not be visiting with great regularity any longer, but perhaps something he had left behind was still here.

I thought it was a brilliant idea.  Steve and I could circle the house a hundred times and see nothing new.  I knew because we had tried.  A few new sets of eyes could certainly not hurt.  And it was not long before they had found something.  Something that did not get there by itself and seemed strange to be sure.  They wore latex gloves and picked the finds out of the tree and put them in individual bags. I called Rob and he said to put them in paper bags if we had them, and he would pick them up the next time over and put them into the evidence locker.

By the time they finished there was a row of zip lock bags all identified and placed in a few paper bags that were stapled closed.  We hadn’t talked much about Morgan’s stalker lately and this activity started the conversation anew.  It was more of a search for some little detail we had overlooked.  New ideas about what to pursue that had not been so far.

The desire to catch this person was very strong, right there below the surface.  What part, if any he had actually played in Morgan’s untimely death was still unknown.  But the fact that he had made of living hell out of what became the last four months of her life was undeniable.

We talked a lot about the desire to stop him so he could not do this again.  He was very good at what he had chosen to do with his life, and would undoubtedly just get better at it.  It became very clear that evening that stopping this stalker from repeating this was a very important goal to us all.

Today is January 31, 2013 – The obvious point is about how important catching the stalker sooner rather than later is so important.  There is a tendency that happened to us and I have also heard from so many others.  The tendency seems to be that following a concerted initial effort to catch the stalker there is a period of trying to ignore the stalker as one of the methods to stop him.  This is completely understandable and even seems logical at the time, but it is so very wrong.

Former detective and stalking expert Mark Wynn is dead on when he explains this as a move to minimize the stalking.  The victim’s first goal is always going to be to make it stop.  Mark explains that as you move to minimize, the stalker only moves to maximize.  A catchy, simple phrase about stalking that is all too true.

Morgan’s stalking went on for four months, which may not sound long when compared to stalkings that go on for years and years.  But over those four months it was impossible to be on a state of high alert every minute of every day.  It was impossible for us, and I suggest it would be equally impossible for most others.  Like running a marathon, at some point everyone has to stop.

Remember that bit of advice given to Steve from yet another stalking victim he met here in the valley.  You have to be on guard 24 hours a day – 7 days a week and the stalker gets to pick and choose his four, five, six or even ten little moments of terror to throw at you.  The sentinels at the castles always rotated to stay fresh and alert, and so must you.  No one person can expect to catch their stalker by themselves.  They must have help, and lots of it.  When I think about it now, without good detection electronics, it would take at least six or seven people to have a decent chance against one stalker -really.

Since most people are not going to have this level of support, there is an encouraging thing I am watching work more and more often…wildlife cameras.  There is a police department in Colorado that has a bunch of WiFi enabled wildlife cameras they deploy at stalking victims homes, and they are making a difference.  The best image of Morgan’s stalker came from a wildlife camera, and yes it is another one of those ideas I am chasing.  This may not be one perfect answer, but the more tools at our disposal to fight back with, the less chance the stalker has to be successful.

And doesn’t that sound nice?

 

December 9 – 12, 2011 – Day 8 – 11 of Morgan’s Investigation – parents packing up a room

Morgan deep in thought

Morgan deep in thought

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The last of our guests – they have left us and being alone in the house with Steve knowing there will never be a Morgan again was quite a moment.  It was everything all at once and it was an emptiness that I can’t begin to describe.

We have no choice but to forge on, and as her room is almost finished so I tackle what is left.  Her bed is first, blankets, sheets, pillows, pillowcases.  That none of this was ever collected has been universally frowned upon since her death.  But at that time we still believed.  No sooner had I shaken the top blanket then out popped what was perhaps the last little gift from her father.

Two days before that fateful Friday we were all together in Grand Junction and near the end of the trip she blurted out, “can I have a knife?”  In the context of the moment that she was feeling very threatened and wanted something for self-defense was without doubt, nonetheless I asked her why and she immediately shot back “why do you think?” And Steve said OK.

He wasn’t sure where to go in Grand Junction, and places were closing, but he was confident we could find the perfect one at the surplus store by our house.  Quite by chance at one of his last supply house stops Morgan and I waited in the truck while he went in.  Turns out they had a knife display and of what was left Steve picked more of a cute knife than “the” knife and when he came back out he had drawn a happy face on the box and slipped it to Morgan without a word.

We were backing out of the parking lot as she opened this box and I watched her face light up – she told Steve “Oh I love you daddy, you are the best!”  He promised they would get another one this week, but at least she had this for a back up.  And here was the box still on her bed, and sure enough as I picked it up the knife was still inside.  I showed it to Steve and we just starred for a moment.

There was a hope we would finish the room 100% that evening, but that was not to be.  I did find her diary, her last diary that she had written in, and I sat down with it and read the last entries.  She had shown a few of them to me already, and they were concerning her future in college.  GPA’s she needed and LSAT scores she would have to achieve, and many other goal setting or acknowledging events yet to come for her, along with a list of make-up she needed to get.  I stopped on a page we had discussed together not long before her death.  For an instant she was still standing there talking it over with me and then it was silent.

There would be so many memories of Morgan, we both knew this by now and had been counseled about it by so many.  Steve was certain that once he got to the point he could recite that he was so blessed, and proud to have had Morgan in his life for twenty years, without breaking into tears he will have reached a point of healing.  He hasn’t quite gotten there yet.  We both wanted her to still be here – maybe away at college – maybe on some grand adventure, but always thinking she would return for a visit at least.

I stood up and announced I had found her last diary, and the one before it.  As far as I knew now of the evidence collected by the Sheriffs there was only Morgan’s electronic items, which had all been returned, and a brown diary that was still somewhere.  I now wondered what diary they did have?  Was it an old one?  Was it even Morgan’s at all?  Or was it someone else’s?  A friend of hers had called wondering if they could come by to collect their diary, as they had left it in Morgan’s room.

I had no frame of reference for any of this, but from where I sat things did not seem to have gone well at all.  Both Steve and I wanted to think the best, but we had our questions and once again we decided to wait until the all important “tox results” came back.

Today is January 30, 2013There is a certain level of disorganization that has crept into my life, and I am now working to return it back to order.  For some reason the emails and tips I have been sorting, and placing into meaningful folders have had a very common theme.  Belief, for lack of a better term – in so many cases the victim hadn’t actually been believed that they really had a stalker.  People thought it was just their imagination.  This is a very frightening thing…knowing there is someone out there watching and following you, that might do you harm, and people close to you or law enforcement don’t believe you – that is just incomprehensible!  That is when they knew it was not going to go away as easily as it had began.

Take stalking seriously was a tag line I had thought of long ago, and today it is very appropriate.  Victims tell someone first, perhaps a close friend, a family member, or another trusted individual.  And so surprisingly from the emails I receive there is instant disheartenment because they were not believed or not taken seriously.

Remember Morgan at the beginning she was so busy trying to convince us that it was nothing as she told us about her strange noises – this I now know after reading so many stories about stalking is a normal reaction.  And we were no better, so quick to dismiss that first sign of trouble right along with her.  No one wants to believe this could happen to them.

I have re-read many stories today from victims sharing a story of a stalker they suffered through, and so many remembered how disappointed they were that a parent, or boyfriend didn’t even believe anything was happening at first.  I’m sure there are girlfriends out there who are guilty as well, I just didn’t have an email about one.

When you have a stalker there are so many things that are very important to be considered and act on.  The very last of those should be the need to convince those around you that it is happening.

There are truths that begin to make sense as you ponder them.  Such as:

  • Murderers are rarely caught at the scene of the murder.
  • Murderers rarely confess unless they really think you have the goods on them.
  • Stranger stalkers are rarely caught at the scene of the stalking.
  • Stranger stalkers rarely confess unless you convince them you have the goods on them.

So meanwhile someone for whom you care very much suffers greatly until one of the above happens.  If you start off by not believing think how much worse it all just became.  We had footprints, wildlife cam photos, videos, a very obviously placed cracked gutter, trails worn into the berms behind our house that you can see from outer space…etc. etc. And exactly how would Morgan feel if she were here to hear the Sheriff and others opine that there was never was never any evidence of a stalker?  This makes no sense to me.

It’s important for the victims of crime to know they are taken seriously, very seriously.  Sounds so simple, but the seriousness is lacking right now, and realizing that will really bring the solution that much closer.

December 8, 2011 – Day 7 of Morgan’s investigation – More packing and wondering

happywallsMorgan’s happy walls…all 4 walls were full of lots of color, and wonderful memories 

Packing away Morgan’s belongings began last night, and today I continued.  Her lifetime of memories and prized possessions, along with most all of the necessities for her life right here in one room, just missing one important piece – Morgan.  Morgan’s walls were her “happy walls”, covered with pictures and cards, and every image of things she had cherished in her life.  Each and every one with a story of its own, dress up day at grade school, a hike with friends, miniature golf with dad, or a real pirate ship with mom and dad catching the sunset, even if it was on a lake.  Her paintings, a string of Christmas lights with a cartoon character for each light, postcards, inspirational photos and sayings – so, so many memories of happy times for Morgan.

Today I started to pick the pieces of her enormous collage off the walls.  One memory after the other – and so many that we had shared together.  At first a tear came with each, then it was sobs.  How could this have happened!  I demanded from the empty room.  Why was Morgan taken from us?  I ached for an answer, and would call Steve to share how I felt, wondering if there was any way to speed up the process.  Even though I knew the answer already, we had been told it would be weeks before the last results would come in.

We were also told by the detectives that the Forensic Pathologist was really good, very thorough.  He would have answers, and I trusted every assurance I had been given.  It’s really quite impossible to think your youngest baby has been trusted to the hands of anyone, but the best.  So I filled my waiting with sharing the memories she chose to find as happy ones with every piece I removed from her wall.  After all the close moments Morgan and I had together here was quite a different moment.  Putting anything into a proper perspective was so impossible.

Steve joined me at some time and we worked independently but together and shared in the grief.  I am not sure if it was then or at some moment in the near future that we resolved to move as soon as we could.  Morgan never bursting into the house with her latest excitement was indelibly etched into the front door of this house, and walking past it knowing that would never again happen was so terribly difficult.

After a few days now of sorting her room it still had not yet begun to show any signs of being emptied, but the stack of boxes in the entry sure grew.  We had to go really slow and inspect everything.  Then we had decided there was no sense putting them anywhere else, because soon they would be packed onto a moving van.  Over the following weeks our house became boxes destined for another place, and I found some comfort in that.

Steve and I were so very grateful for the years we had Morgan in our lives and for this entire nightmare to become part of our past could not happen soon enough.

We were told that for the stalker, or the responsible party in the invasion of Morgan’s privacy, or whoever he, she or they were there would be an urge to return at some point soon after her death, and that urge may be strong.  We should be alert for the possibility.  But we were no longer wanting to be hyper-vigilant any longer, now we were just numb.   We listened to advice like this, but found it very difficult to maintain anything close to the same vigilance we had when Morgan was still alive.

Other’s were helping us by watching the neighborhood for this sort of possibility, and they did see some curious events.  But, as with Morgan’s stalking it was more a glimpse of uncertainty instead of staring right at an answer.

The truth never changes, and it was my firm belief in that fact that helped us through this time.  There was a truth out there, and while it might not come as soon as I wished, it would eventually arrive and it would not change – the truth is always the truth no matter how much others might want it to go away.  It would always remain there, waiting to be fully exposed.

I remember sometime during the packing up of Morgan’s room I began to think of the things that were not being done.  Like no one was calling me for a list of Morgan’s doctors, especially the specialists she had seen.  They held such knowledge of Morgan.  The question grew until I called the detectives to ask if I should put together a contact list for someone.  But I was assured that as far as they knew they already had everything they needed.  I remember wondering how, but not asking why.

Life was a delicate balance then, engaging enough to keep moving, but not too much.  Too much seemed to bring a wave of realization and instant sorrow.  I felt guilty at times, feeling that Morgan had been the one who suffered and paid the ultimate price, not me.  Allowing myself to grieve was at times unstoppable, and at other times an incredibly difficult challenge.

As Steve and I made headway in her room there had been no further questionable discoveries.  In the first days there had been quite a few, but now as we dug deeper into drawers and corners of closets there were only Morgan’s things as they had been.

Besides that which we had found had not generated much, but we were used to that.  Investigations seen on TV, with teams spending entire days searching was obviously just a fantasy because compared with the real life we had come to expect nothing even remotely close to that was happening.  As far as law enforcement and the Coroner’s office went, Morgan was only allowed so much time, and it certainly had not increased with her death.

It seemed as if all were waiting for the, “Tox report.”  So naturally I worried, what if there was nothing found?  Would they have to go back and start over?  But by then we had cleared a good percentage of her room, and packed it all away.  The detectives had assured me it was fine, and it was so hard to know I was doing the right thing no matter what I did.

Steve had a plan that at the time seemed so perfect.  He had a banker box marked evidence and a box of baggies.  Every time we would find a memory chip, jump drive, roll of film, and anything else that we surmised could be evidence someday, not even knowing if a crime had been committed, it would be placed in a baggie and marked with a sharpie as to where it was found.

At least this way if Morgan’s death turned out to be nefarious, all would not be lost.  And for the next week it seemed that all possibilities were still in play.

December 5, 2012 – Day 4 of Morgan’s investigation

Morgan relaxing in her car, enjoying the view

Morgan relaxing in her car, enjoying the view

Morgan was scheduled to sign up for courses to become a certified yoga instructor today, over the past few days her little friends had missed their babysitter. Instead she was being made up for a viewing for all of the family and friends that had not seen her in a while and wanted a last chance.  I didn’t like the idea – I knew it was just the body she had once inhabited and now her soul was no longer in it – but I agreed and now here we were.

Detective Rob had assured us that it was perfectly fine to have her cremated as they had gotten everything they needed already from her autopsy.  Detective Megan had made sure that all of her electronics containing pictures were returned for there use in the Memorial that we would have tomorrow.

We had the OK to go back into her room and had so far only gone in to check on her cat.  We had gone through the cameras quickly to see if there was any very obvious event to be reported immediately, but there was not.  It was just too painful to watch them, so it was very cursory at best.

Steve and I were really uncertain about how the investigation would go forward at this point.  We were confident there would be one, and it was hard to imagine remaining calm and detached for the next few weeks until the results of the autopsy were back, but so far we had.  Stopping the tears was another thing altogether – we couldn’t stop the tears, and neither could others that were with us at all times.

That night at the viewing it all changed as my sister noticed something that nobody else had so far…Morgan’s nails.  It’s strange how things happen – I didn’t want the viewing, but had agreed, and now this happened.  Morgan had a French manicure done the day before she was killed, and her nails had been perfect.  Steve talked to her the night before we found her, and was quite sure they were still perfect.  Now they we far from perfect, three nails on her right hand (and yes, Morgan was right handed) looked like the tips of her nails were either cut or torn off on an angle.  It caused a minor commotion, and looking back now I guess that is part of dealing with death, you really don’t want to look hard, but you have to.

This seemed at the time like a simple question to answer…maybe the Forensic Pathologist cut them for evidence.  Look at pictures of her nails at the house and at the morgue and this discovery could be something to follow up on or be dismissed.  Well one year, one month and a few days later we still have no answer.  The Forensic Pathologist told me over the phone that he did not cut her nails.  And I have asked many times for the pictures that will show what condition they were in at what time.  The pictures just have never been produced.  Now that we are scheduling a complete review of her death we will have to have them, and at least that question can be put to rest.

Someone brought up with Detectives Rob and Megan the thought that K might show up at the memorial.  It has happened in some cases, they were aware of it, and promised to be on extra alert should that happen.  Two of our friends with concealed carry permits were also animate that they be “prepared too”.  I didn’t want to think that we needed armed guards for my daughter’s memorial service, and I avoided the thought completely.  If he did come by I never heard about it.

In another twist of fate, which has come to be expected in Morgan’s case, her memorial was held at the same place where K attended grade school.  Former classmates, and teachers all remembered him well.  Not for being “squeaky clean” as his “manager” at City Market told the detective, but for his behavioral issues, his violence, and bullying, and what was described as “a strange creepiness”.  It seems that even way back then K was establishing a reputation.

The ceremony was a fitting glimpse into the life of Morgan.  Steve and I were obviously far into uncharted territory, and we were doing our very best in our own way to survive this, learning things we so dearly wish we never had to.  And all these lessons we continue to learn over a year later.  We knew Morgan would be so sorely missed, just how much we hadn’t even begun to realize back then.  It would be months, many months before we realized just how much it would take to even have a hope of moving on with our lives.

By now I had decided that I could absolutely not stay in the house any longer, and moving to the one we had selected when Morgan was alive with a stalker was also out.  The front door had become my enemy, a portal through which Morgan should step through beaming her Morgan smile at any time, but never would again.  Steve and I discussed the crime scene aspect with Detective Rob and Megan, Steve was willing to keep the house for as long as was necessary, but we were going to move as soon as that could be done.  Detective Rob said if we could move tomorrow it would be fine with him, and that was reassuring.

Something of unspeakable horror had happened at the house.  Being away from that place was important, and finding out what did really happen was also very important.  Our first order of business then became finding our next stop in life.  And knowing that was the plan gave me the strength to venture into Morgan’s room with a mind toward packing it all up.  It was a very tough venture that first time, and I can’t say it ever became any easier.  Even empty, and stripped to the bare walls I could imagine her in that room dancing, singing, cleaning, decorating, rearranging, and every other little Morgan thing she did.  And the worse part was trying to not allow my mind to think of what happened to her that last night of her life.

Today is January 22, 2013, and my mantra has become truth – why can’t people tell the truth?  Why is it in such short supply these days?  I know if they don’t tell the truth it will eat at them for the rest of their lives.  I know – I remember a case a long time ago when someone was on their deathbed, and confessed to a crime that had not been solved for a long time,  he said he would not die with it on his conscience, and when he did confess the truth the others involved were both arrested.  The sad thing in that case is there were others that knew different pieces of the truth, but kept it to themselves all those years – why?  I have just finished a list of letters I must write, letters to remind people of the truth – especially for those who might have lost their way, and are just in need of a little reminder.  It does not consume me as it has in the past, but Morgan is with me every day going forward – and for that I am so grateful.