My ex-husband Derek spit on the casket of my eight-year-old kid while I was kneeling next to it. The sound was crisp and wet, like a gunshot that broke the solemn calm of the funeral home. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Tommy would be alive if he lived with me,” in front of everyone, including our family, friends, and our seven-year-old daughter Penny.
My body got frigid. The white roses I put on Tommy’s casket looked like they were dying because of how much Derek hated them. His mother, Marlene, stood behind him and nodded with justified anger. Her black outfit made her look like a crow ready to dig at bones. Russell, my father, started to get up from his seat with his electrician’s hands curled into fists, but I couldn’t move. I was unable to breathe. The funeral director’s face turned pale, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was not ready for this level of cruelty.
“You
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That’s when my daughter stood up from the front row. Penny was only a little taller than the podium, and her black outfit had little purple ribbons on her that I had let her add because purple was Tommy’s favorite color. She appeared so little, but her voice was loud and clear.
“Hey,
The funeral house was quite quiet. There was no cough, shuffle, or even a breath. Derek’s face turned pale so quickly that I thought he would pass out. Marlene’s hand went to her chest. The funeral director stopped in his tracks. And in that dreadful, perfect silence, I realized that everything I thought I understood about how my kid died was about to change.
It was the kind of gray that gets into your bones on the morning of Tommy’s funeral. I had been up since 3:00 a.m., sitting in his room with his beloved plush dinosaur, a worn green T-Rex named Chomper that he had slept with every night since he was three. The dinosaur still carried his scent, reminiscent of apple shampoo and the dirt from the playground that little boys often have. I would do anything to maintain that smell forever.
Tommy had been gone for five days. Five days have passed since the accident that should not have happened. My daughter Penny has been asking me for five days when her brother will come home. I have received five calls from Derek, and each one has been worse than the last. He said I was a monster. He remarked that my carelessness had murdered our son. He said he’d make sure everyone knew what type of mother I truly was.
“Francine, honey, it’s time,” my father, Russell, murmured softly from the door. He had always been there for me, through my divorce two years ago, the custody struggle that followed, and now this horrible loss. His hands, the same ones that had taught Tommy how to use a screwdriver just a month ago, shook a little as he straightened his tie.
“I can’t do this, Dad,” I said quietly as I held Chomper tighter. I can’t say goodbye to him.
Russell walked over to sit next to me on Tommy’s bed and said, “You’re not saying goodbye.” His weight made the rocket ship sheets wrinkle. “You say, ‘see you later.’ That boy will always be with you, right here.” He put his palm over his heart, and for the first time since Tommy died, I saw tears in his eyes.
The custody agreement had been rather basic. I had primary custody, and Derek had them every other weekend. The judge was worried about Derek’s temper, but there wasn’t enough evidence to stop him from visiting. Derek’s lawyer had come up with excuses for a few things: when he punched a hole in the wall, it was “stress from work,” and when he yelled at Tommy’s T-ball coach, it was “being a protective father.” What about the time Penny came home with bruises on her arm? Derek said she fell in the playground, and who could say otherwise?
Tommy had been at Derek’s house that weekend when everything went disastrously. It was meant to be a normal visit: pick up on Friday after school and drop off on Sunday night. Derek lived in a nice two-story house in Meadowbrook with a huge backyard and a treehouse he erected to show that he was the “fun parent.” All of his neighbors thought he was the best dad.
I helped Penny put on her black outfit at the funeral home. “Mommy, will Daddy be kind today?”” She asked me a question while looking into my green eyes. She had Derek’s eyes and my stubbornness, which meant she saw everything and remembered nothing.
I told her, “Today is about saying goodbye to Tommy,” as I brushed her golden hair. “Everyone will be on their best behavior.”
She looked at me like she knew too much for a seven-year-old. “Even Grandma Marlene?” “
Marlene has never liked me. She made it apparent from the time Derek brought me home that I wasn’t good enough for her son. I was too focused on my profession and too autonomous. She felt it was selfish of me to care for other people’s kids when I should have been home with my own when I became a pediatric nurse. When I filed for divorce after Derek pushed me down the stairs, which he said was an accident, she dubbed me a gold seeker, even though he made less money than I did.
I said, “Even Grandma Marlene.” “We’re all here because we love Tommy.”
The service began at 10:00 a.m. Derek and his mother got there fifteen minutes late, and they both looked angry, like heat coming from a furnace. I could smell the bourbon from three rows away. He had been drinking. His black suit looked perfect. Yes, of course. Derek always understood how to dress the part.
Marlene kept speaking to anyone who would listen, even though she tried to be quiet. “This wouldn’t have happened at Derek’s house.” She never paid attention to those kids. “Always working.” Each phrase was a knife, and she knew just how to turn it.
When the priest spoke of Tommy as a “bright light” who adored his mother’s bedtime stories, I heard Derek laugh. Then Marlene got up. She started by saying, “My grandson was a special boy,” and then she wiped her eyes. “He should have had more. He needed a safe place to live with two parents who put him first. Instead, he was moved around like a piece of luggage. She looked straight at me and said, “Some people think their jobs are more important than their kids.”
I went first when it was time for the last viewings. I kissed Tommy’s forehead, which felt cold and weird under my lips, and put Chomper next to him. Then Derek came up. “Go,” he said.
I moved to the side and took Penny with me. For a long time, he stood over the casket. People informed me afterward that they assumed he was praying. But I could see that he was quite angry. That’s when he went ahead and did it. He bent over, collected spit, and with a lot of force, spit right upon the white satin lining next to Tommy’s head.
Derek turned to the whole assembly and said, “You did this.” “My son would be alive if he lived with me!” She was too busy with her nursing duties to keep an eye on him. She picked her job over our son, and now he’s dead! “
Marlene stood up and nodded a lot. “Yes, it’s true! Derek begged for full custody, and he begged! But the courts always side with the mothers, even the bad ones! “My knees went out, and I fell upon the pew. Everyone in the room gasped in shock. I heard a small voice through my tears.
“That’s not right.”
Penny had gotten up. She was seven years old and weighed forty-eight pounds, and she was facing a room full of grownups. She had her hands in small fists and her chin up high.
Derek’s cheeks turned scarlet as he asked Penny to sit down.
“No,” she responded, this time in a louder voice. “You are lying, Daddy.” Tommy didn’t call you to cry. You phoned us.
The funeral director walked on, not sure what to do when a child confronted an adult. But my dad raised his hand to ask her to speak. Russell stepped up carefully, putting himself between Derek and the kids’ section. It was plain what he meant.
Marlene said, “Sweetheart,” in a voice that made my skin crawl. “You don’t know what’s going on.” When kids are upset, they don’t always remember things right.”
“I’m not confused,” Penny said, cutting in and getting stronger. “I remember everything. I can remember things like an image. And I remember that Daddy called us at Mommy’s place three nights before Tommy died. I was monitoring the clock and waiting for my performance to start at eight, so it was Thursday night at 7:43.
People leaned forward because it was so specific. This child was not puzzled. This story was proof.
“He was really angry because Mommy wouldn’t let him switch weekends with her,” Penny said. He wanted to take us to his friend Jake’s lake cottage, but Mommy said no because Tommy had a science fair on Saturday. Tommy put significant effort into making his volcano. Grandpa Russell helped him make it blast genuine foam lava that was twenty inches high.
Derek’s face was getting purple. “Penny,” I said, “sit down now!”
But a new confidence had awakened in my daughter. She moved forward into the middle aisle, where everyone could see her well. “You called Tommy a baby,” she replied, her voice suddenly calm. “You said he was weak and pathetic for wanting to stay home to work on a dumb science project.” You remarked that true lads would rather have fun than do homework. You said Mommy was making him into a—
That’s enough!” Derek yelled and started to walk toward her.
Russell moved faster than I had seen him move in years, and he stood right in Derek’s way. He whispered gently, “You take one more step toward that little girl, and funeral or no funeral, I’ll lay you out.” “Let her finish.”
Penny responded, “I understand everything,” and her voice made the whole room become still again. “I know that Daddy gets angry when he drinks. I know he talks badly about Mommy when she’s not around. I know that he taught Tommy that sobbing is for girls and babies. She turned to Derek and looked him straight in the eye, and I watched him really take a step back from the severity of her gaze.
“Should I tell everyone what you said to Tommy over the phone, Dad? “She asked. “Should I tell them what happened when we got to your house on Friday?” Should I tell them what you did the night before he passed away? “
There was complete stillness after that.
“She’s lying,” Derek replied, but his voice wasn’t strong anymore. “She has been trained. Francine has put lies in her head.
Penny responded simply, “I don’t lie.” “Lying is bad.” That is what Tommy taught me. “Mommy taught him that, not you.” She looked around the room. She said, “My daddy did something bad to Tommy.” “Something really, really bad.” And I can show you.
The room went crazy. But Penny stood there, a small pillar of truth in a sea of adult confusion, waiting.
The funeral house was quite quiet.
Penny went on, “The night before Tommy died,” and tears streamed down her face, but her voice never wavered. “At your house on Friday night.” You made him sleep outside. He was wearing only his underwear in the backyard because he was upset about missing the science fair. You told him he needed to toughen up, like a man. It was 40 degrees, Dad. Your tablet’s weather app indicated it was forty degrees and warned of freezing temperatures.
People gasped with shock. Marlene’s face had turned as white as paper.
“I snuck him a blanket through his bedroom window,” Penny remarked as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “But you caught me and took it away. You also suggested I was making him weak. You said that if I assisted him again, I would have to sleep outside next.
“She’s lying!” Derek yelled, but his voice broke.
Penny remarked in a low voice, “I took pictures,” and the room went more quieter. “On the tablet you got me for Christmas. The one with the unicorn case that is pink. I shot images of Tommy outside in his Spider-Man underwear, crying. Daddy, his lips were blue. “His lips were blue, and he was shaking so hard.”
Mrs. Henley, who lived next door, stood up from her seat in the rear. “She’s being honest. At six in the morning on Saturday, the kid arrived to my back door. She showed me the photos. “She showed me videos.”
Penny went on, looking straight at Derek, “I filmed you yelling at him through the door.” “You said he could come in when he stopped being a little brat—” She paused. You said a nasty word. He cried so hard that he threw up in the bushes. I also have a video of that.
Many folks got their phones out and were recording. Derek’s lawyer pal was typing quickly on his phone.
Penny remarked, “I showed them to Mrs. Henley on Saturday morning.” “She said she was going to call someone, but then… Tommy…” She started to cry. “Tommy tried to get back inside by climbing the tree to his bedroom window.”
As the parts came together, I could feel the blood leave my face. The tree was the old oak next to the home. Its branches reached up to Tommy’s second-story window.
Penny murmured, “You’d locked all the doors,” but everyone heard her. “Even the door for the dog. You put the security bar on it so he couldn’t go through. He gave it a shot, Dad. He first tried to go in through the dog door, but he got trapped and scraped his whole stomach. I also have photos of the scratches.
Derek moved forward, but three guys, one of whom was the funeral director, held him back. I could hear sirens in the distance; someone had already called 911.
“He fell, Mommy,” Penny remarked, turning to me with a sad face. “Tommy fell out of the tree because Daddy locked him out and he was trying to get back in.” He was terrified and freezing. “I want my mom,” he kept saying. “I want my mom,” he said over and over. I tried to open the door, but Daddy had the key and was passed out on the couch with his beer bottles.
Marlene let out a scream that didn’t sound like a person. “Derek, please tell me she’s lying! You didn’t do this to my grandchild, did you?”
But Derek was no longer denying it. He was just standing there, restrained by three men, his face a mask of dread and anger.
” Mrs. Penny continued, “Henley has the tablet,” her voice getting worn out. “She took it that morning to keep it safe.” She knew that Daddy would want to get rid of everything. That morning, she called the police, but they told her that Tommy was already at the hospital and that they would look into it later. But Tommy died, and everyone said it was an accident. I didn’t know what to do.
Mrs. Henley was now openly crying. She said, “I have everything.” “Four videos and twenty-three photos.” I had been trying to get them to the correct people, but no one will listen. Everyone stated it was just a sad accident.
At that point, three police officers arrived at the funeral home, not expecting to see a criminal scene at a child’s funeral.
Derek was taken into custody at his son’s funeral. They put handcuffs on him right there in front of everyone, and his beautiful suit was wrinkled as they walked him past Tommy’s casket. He didn’t glance at his son. He didn’t glance at anyone. Marlene fell to the ground and cried, “I didn’t know.” Oh no, I didn’t know.
We had to put off the burial. The medical examiner needed to look over Tommy’s case. But when we eventually buried him three days later, it was serene. Only family and friends who truly cared about him attended the burial. Penny insisted on reading a letter she had written in which she promised to take care of Chomper and be brave like he had always been. She answered, “The right kind of brave.” “Not Daddy’s type.”
The investigation showed that what Penny had written down was true. Tommy had died from a head injury after falling from the tree at 2:00 a.m. Saturday morning, they were cold and wanted to come inside. His body was showing signs of severe hypothermia. The scratches on his stomach were the same as the metal edges of the dog door.
Derek was charged with child endangerment and involuntary manslaughter. It took three weeks for the trial to finish. Marlene, who was broken, testified against her own son, saying that she had believed his lies about how I had neglected him because she couldn’t believe her own child could be so nasty.
Derek earned a sentence of twelve years. The judge claimed it was one of the worst incidents of child abuse she had witnessed in thirty years on the bench.
But it’s not Derek’s acts that keep me up at night. The thing is that Penny had to carry this weight by herself. She had tried to keep her brother safe in the best way a seven-year-old could: by gathering proof like she had seen on the detective shows we watched together. She had known that something bad may happen and had gotten documentation in case someone would listen.
She confessed to her mother one night, six months later, in therapy, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Mommy.” “I thought if I told, Daddy would get angrier and hurt Tommy more.” I thought that if I kept recording, someone would notice it and make him stop.
The therapist argues that by speaking up, Penny may have spared scores of future children. During the trial, three additional families came forward and said their kids had complained about Mr. Morrison’s “toughening up” methods, but they had thought it was just hard coaching.
I’m not concerned about the other kids he might have wounded. I care about the one child he harmed. The one who climbed a tree in his underwear on a frigid March night to get back to safety. Penny said that the last thing she said was, “I just want my mom.”
Our mantel now has Tommy’s volcano from the scientific fair. Russell made sure it still works, even though he never got to show it. Penny and I make it explode once a week. Chomper is next to it, watching over Tommy’s favorite picture: the three of us at the beach last summer, creating sandcastles, safe, warm, and together.
The truth doesn’t necessarily make you free. It can also just move the bars of the prison from one individual to another. But at least the appropriate person is with them today. And what about my brave little girl? Every time now, she speaks out. She learnt too early that not talking may kill you. But she also learned that even the smallest voice may break the largest lies. Tommy would be proud of his sister. I know I am.
