Your name is Tara King. Fifteen years ago, after a rich family (Melanie Locke and Richard Mullaney) fired you as their babysitter, you decided we should have a party at their house while they were out of town. You and the other couple at the house that night had left by the time Richard pulled into the driveway. I stayed behind to keep trashing his things to get back at him for what he did to my sister. When I left, he was pulling into the driveway. He got out with a gun and told me to stay put. All those feelings from when I was a kid came flooding back. I pictured him going after my sister, and I just charged at him and knocked him down. We were wrestling for the gun when it went off.

I told all this to someone I trusted, who said there were no mitigating circumstances. Because the killing happened during a felony, I’d get a mandatory life sentence. I needed to leave town, but I was terrified to go alone. I was begging you to come with me, but you didn’t understand why we needed to leave. You couldn’t remember anything at all from that night. I finally blurted out that you were the one who shot him, but I only told you that to convince you to come with me. We hitched a ride to Indianapolis from that truck stop by the airport, and then I stole a Toyota from a gas station when the guy went inside. We were heading for Montreal. Once we were settled there, I was going to tell you the truth, I swear. I just didn’t want to leave on my own. The next thing I know, we’re flipping over in the car. I thought you died still believing that you had killed a man.

But now you know the truth. I am the one who shot Richard Mullaney. I alone am responsible. I hope this gives you freedom, Hope. I hope it gives you peace. You can live your life now.

Hope sat in silence for a few seconds when they were done reading, scrolling through the document again, as if to make sure it was real.

“Oh my god. He didn’t just confess. He totally cleared me.”

An announcement in Mullaney’s case was imminent. Lindsay had been trying to persuade the Wichita police to declare Alex Lopez the sole suspect in the killing, but she’d been given no assurances. This letter changed all that.

“He most certainly did,” Lindsay said. “Alex didn’t deserve to die for what he did, Hope, but he did owe this to you. He took away the last fifteen years of your life, but now it’s really over. You’ve got your entire future in front of you.”