Butler brought Gloria and Jeremy along for the fun. Broadhurst had invited plenty of work associates, and his neighbors, including the McFaddens—Reece and Megan and their daughter Sian (pronounced, as Jeremy’d told me, “Sharn”). Gloria and Jeremy lived close enough that Jeremy and Sian attended the same high school, and knew each other.

A number of the other guests were mentioned in various articles, but the only name I recognized was Wilson. Alicia and Frank Wilson, who were, I suspected, the parents of Charlene.

Alcohol had been flowing freely at the event, and Jeremy had helped himself to several bottles of beer without anyone taking notice. It was calculated that by the time he got behind the wheel of the Porsche, he’d had ten.

Sian had made off with only one bottle, but it was wine, and the coroner’s office testified that she had in all likelihood consumed all of it.

The two of them had been hanging out together out back of the property, lying on the grass, looking at the stars and continuing to drink. At some point, they got up and wandered around to the front of the house, where the Porsche caught Jeremy’s attention. Jeremy’d never really been a car guy, the story said, but even someone who didn’t give a shit about sports cars could appreciate that an old Porsche was a pretty neat vehicle.

He found the car unlocked, got into the driver’s seat, and invited Sian to get in on the other side, which she did. He wanted her to take a picture of him behind the wheel with her phone.

Broadhurst had left the keys in the ashtray—he didn’t smoke so he often tossed them there, at least when the car was right out front of the house, which was a long way in from the road. Jeremy found them, and was searching in frustration for the ignition slot. Instead of being on the steering column, as it is with most cars, including any that Jeremy had ever driven, it was to the left of the wheel, on the dash.

Before he could insert the key, Broadhurst himself came out of the house and spotted what Jeremy was up to. He came around to the driver’s door, opened it, and hauled Jeremy out. Several guests who’d heard the commotion—including Bob and Gloria—had gathered around the open front door and witnessed the whole thing. Sian got out of the Porsche without being asked, and the two teenagers skulked away.

Broadhurst then did something that everyone deemed very, very stupid.

He tossed the keys back into the car’s ashtray.

Even he was willing to concede that had he not been so careless, things would have turned out very differently.