The Dead Man In My Case File

Summary

It was ten years after the divorce when our daughter, Phoebe, was hauled into the precinct for a street fight.

The detective assigned to question her, by some cruel twist of fate, was her mother, Simona—the woman she hadn’t seen in a decade.

I watched, a helpless ghost, as Simona’s eyes scanned Phoebe's tattooed forearm and the shocking electric-blue streaks in her hair. She clamped down on her fury and snapped:

“Phoebe Hawthorne, look at the state of you! Fighting, skipping school, running with riff-raff—”