Personal Narrative: My Father For Murder

I blame my father for what happened. I don’t believe that she would do something like that to herself knowing she was content. My dad defends himself, and I know he had nothing to do with the situation. I silently cry and gaze out the window hoping to find answers. My father walks over to me and hugs me and we sit weeping together. It doesn’t make sense my mother would kill herself, so I ask myself what if it wasn’t a suicide, but a murder. I then know I must look for answers everywhere to prove it really was a murder.

I start by going back to the place where it happened, our apartment roof. I spot the note still laying under the brick and go over to grasp it. I read the note over and over thoroughly hoping to discover something. I finally notice a clue and it gives me hope. My ma used to write her A’s with a tail at the end, in the suicide note she didn’t. I scream my dad’s name at the top of my lung’s showing him what I have found. I can perceive the sorrow in his face while

I was anxious to show him the letter, but I knew it needed to be done in order for the investigation to be reopened. We don’t say anything for what feels like forever, the only sound in the room was the birds chirping outside the window. My dad finally speaks saying we must show this to the police. I know he’s not ready for this and neither am, but it has to be done.

The car ride is silent to the police station, except for the music playing in the background. We walk in together, and head to the office with our proof. The cops didn’t believe our assumptions until they saw the evidence. The case was reopened, and stated as a murder. I thought knowing that she didn’t kill herself would make me happier, but it did just the opposite. The funeral went by fast with the typical crying and mourning. I still can’t believe my mother is really gone, but I know she’ll always be with me in my heart. It’s all over I say to