Left for Garbage

the State from rushing my daughter into a Kangaroo Court murder trial.
    He said we needed time, that Keith and I had to help buy him time. He said the police didn’t care about the truth, that they only cared about closing the case, and so they wouldn’t look for these men, they wouldn’t even believe in their existence. The police thought my daughter was a liar and a killer, and our only hope was to buy more time by continuing to search for Deeley so that he could, with the help of my son, Seeley, run a secret search for those two kidnappers, kidnapping killers.
    Mr. Gutierrez said even if we found the real killers, no one would care if Denise had already been tried and found guilty . He said there were thousands of innocent people in prison and that the State knew it and didn’t care.
    I hated to deceive anyone , but my God, who in my place would have done differently? I’d lost my granddaughter. Was I supposed to stand idly by and lose my daughter too if I could help it? I don’t think so, thank you very much. Of course, having to keep telling people I believed Deeley was still alive was horrible for me. I hate to lie, but again, I had no choice. And, if Deeley, by some miracle, had showed up alive, well, that door was left open this way, too.
    Naturally, Keith was no help to me. First he moped around looking like he was at his own funeral, then he tried to attend his own funeral with the suicide attempt. Well, what can you expect from such a pathetic creature? Thank God I had Seeley who, like me, knew the sad truth, but instead of losing his self-control, he channeled his energies into his search for the real killers.
    All of this came to a head the day Deeley’s remains were identified. Tim was a great help to me, making calls from LAX, arranging for a room at the Boca Ritz for Keith and me, as Tim could see Keith was in no shape to face the media hordes which were doubtlessly camped outside of our house. And all I was trying to do was show my gratitude for his help when I suggested we invite Seel and his pathetic girlfriend to join Tim and Keith and me for dinner. I was merely being polite.
    But , of course, like with the cancer, the media is always waiting, and we hadn’t even signed our dinner bill before they descended upon our waitress.
    How did the Browns behave at dinner? How were they acting? Tell, tell, tell. Please, c’mon, you tell us and here’s a little something for your trouble.
    Thank you very much.
    Next thing I know, Keith and I are up in our room and listening to more lies about ourselves on the nightly news, hearing about how ‘poor Keith’ couldn’t eat a bite, but good old Margaret had a hearty meal and seemed to enjoy herself. The monster and the martyr brought to you courtesy of the cancer which is the media, striking right on cue when you’re at your weakest.
    Like a fool, I turned to my husband for comfort and got a helpful, “What does it m atter what they say, Margaret? What does any of it matter?”
    That’s Keith for you , and has been Keith since Day One of this mess. We couldn’t even share our grief when we both started to understand that Deeley was never coming home. To begin with, every time I mentioned the kidnappers - the killers - all Keith would do is shake his head and slink off. When I’d ask him, no beg him, to tell me what he was thinking, he’d just sit there and cry. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking, Margaret,” is what he’d say.
    What wa s that supposed to mean, I’d like to know?
    Now , of course, he’s under the care of a psychiatrist following his little suicide drama, and the psychiatrist, that so-called Dr. Williams, says not to bring it up because Keith is in such a fragile state.
    Well, I could tell the good doctor that Keith being in a fragile state is nothing new, but of course he’s not interested in what I have to say. No one is. All they are interested in is w hat they think I am. Margaret, monster mother of a monster, and a monster herself.
    C ancer cells, that’s all they are, that’s all any of you are.

Denise Brown
    (Fibber McMom herself)

    I heard my dad tried to off himself. Another hardship for me to bear now. I wish I knew what his thoughts were when he tried this stupid act. Thank God my mother put out a call to the police immediately after receiving his text. The police tracked him down by hitting on his cell phone signal. It’s amazing what technology can do these days. If not for technology, my