I was sitting in the conference room of the Lacey Police Department. It had been 17 years since I’d been there and since she died. Then, I was clouded by grief and overwhelmed by what I had to do. All these years later, my eyes opened to the stacks of folders that held scary truths of victim after victim after victim. They were not like my Mom, she was different until I realized something mind blowing.
Below is a survey. A survey of questions that I had to ask myself while I delved into the horror of self-scrutiny. This conversation has just begun and I need YOU to move forward. It will take you 3 minutes or less. I promise. Forward this to everyone you know and join me in what’s next.