We’re too early for the interview and end up having to watch the commercials. A flashy BMW hurtles down a mountain road. A woman in a gown with a plunging neckline rapturously sprays perfume. A car dealership in the next town shouts at us about zero-percent down.

“Emily.”

“Yeah?”

“You need more wine?”

I look down and discover the glass is half-empty. “I can get it.”

Mateo plucks my glass out of my hand and goes into the kitchen as the news anchor starts the program. Her eyes are bright as she describes some of the worst moments of my life like they’re splashy headlines. They are splashy headlines now, I suppose. I contributed to that by getting a book deal. But I refuse to feel guilty about that now. It was Rhys’s choice to be who he was. It was Joe’s choice to do what he did. I’m just writing about what happened to me as a result.

“Is he on yet?” Mateo returns to the living room and hands me my glass. He sits a little closer this time.

“Not yet.” A picture of my book cover flashes up on the screen behind the anchor. B-roll footage of me exiting the courthouse, partially blocked from view by Mateo. His handsome, smiling headshot. “They’re acting like you’re already in the Lifetime movie.”

Mateo shifts on the couch next to me. “I would never be in a Lifetime movie about all this. It deserves only the best studio. HBO at the bare minimum.”

I laugh at his joke, but it doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t feel real. Because they’re switching over to the main event—Joe’s interview.

He’s dressed in his prison uniform, a dull green color with a white T-shirt underneath. The film crew has been fairly skillful at disguising that they filmed the interview in one of the jail’s meeting rooms. The space falls into shadow behind Joe. Why did they go through all that trouble with the lighting? The uniform is a dead giveaway.

I’m distracting myself with it. They’re done with the pleasantries. My brother frowns as the interviewer, one of the high-powered names from the station, asks him to go back and describe his childhood.

“It wasn’t a good situation,” Joe says, after a weighty pause. “My father wasn’t a good parent.”

“Can you say more about that?”

“He was abusive. He’d beat us every night. The only escape we had was school.”

“When you say we, you mean your sister.”

“Yes, my sister Emily.” Joe clears his throat like he’s getting choked up. He wasn’t in tears the night he murdered Rhys. His eyes were dry and bright. That’s because he wasn’t going to stop with my husband. “I tried to protect her, but I was still a child. We suffered for years.”

“Don’t crush it,” Mateo says.