Paul Jackson
May 103 min read
Missing Presumed Dead.
Now that I am nearing my end, I suppose it is finally time to tell the truth of what really happened. I was born in 1960. My childhood was happy until 1965, the year my mother died giving birth to the sister I never got to meet. My father never recovered. He surrendered to the bottle, lost his job, and eventually turned his grief into violence. By the age of five, I learned the geography of fear. If I wasn’t through the front door by 3:40 p.m., exactly ten minutes after the


