Unfortunately, Mitch knew that murder-suicides were all too common. The ritual was for television reporters to flock to the crime scene like jackals to prey, poke a microphone in the mouth of a hapless neighbor or relative, and probe for answers about the personality of the murderer. The public demanded to know “why.” Everyone longed to uncover the motive, as if there would be one singular “ah-ha” moment that would explain why an otherwise loving father and husband would commit such a heinous act. Invariably, the bewildered individual would respond along the lines of “he was a nice guy, I never would have expected him to do something like this,” which was not terribly comforting for the populace at large, because it meant that your next-door neighbor or perhaps even your Uncle Dave might be capable of the same sort of violence and was worthy of suspicion. However, had Mitch been asked about Danny, he certainly would have said he was baffled by the situation, and probably would have defended him until all the facts were known.

Twenty-four hours ago he believed Danny and Rachel had a typical suburban marriage. There were hints of trouble, but nothing major. He thought back to the last time he had seen them, two weeks ago in Cleveland for dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, Johnny’s Bar on Fulton Road.

It was just the four of them that night. Carolyn and Rachel focused on each other, their conversation jumping back and forth breathlessly, while Mitch tried to coax an unusually quiet Danny into opening up. Sports seemed to be about the only safe topic, and on that subject, Danny could astutely analyze the last Browns game or rate the depth of the Indians’ bench. LeBron James was the topic of conversation for most of the night. Hopes were high for the Cavaliers with this nineteen-year-old phenom. Finally, Cleveland was getting some respect. Mitch loved sports as well, but had begun a period of self-exploration in the last several years that he felt had been instrumental in his growth as a father and a husband and had contributed to his success in business.

He had read dozens of books in his exploration of spiritual matters and the connection between personal satisfaction, spiritual growth, and achieving one’s full potential. There was no doubt in Mitch’s mind that this pursuit had allowed him to overcome barriers in all aspects of his life. He had always felt that the best self-help book ever written was the Bible and that, for sheer simplicity, there wasn’t a better guide to living than the Ten Commandments. Faith was the bedrock of his existence, and he tried to follow the section in the second chapter of James, about how “faith without works is dead,” to combine the spiritual with the practical.