The funeral was like most: slow, mournful, and full of loss that wasn’t spoken. There were a lot of people wearing black clothes and bowing their heads. The fragrance of incense was heavy in the air.
There was a coffin in the middle of the room. It had a white satin lining that gently held the body of a young man who was a husband and father. He seemed calm, like he was thinking about something. They said it was an accident, a catastrophic car crash that happened in the early morning. No one saw it coming.
His wife was standing nearby, pale and unreadable. Her two-year-old daughter was close to her, gripping the hem of her black dress. She looked around with a look of naive uncertainty while wearing beautiful black lace.
Most people thought she didn’t get what was going on. They thought she was too young. She was too young to understand how deeply grief affects people.
But then everything changed all of a sudden.
As the ceremony came to an end, a family member tenderly picked up the little girl and moved her closer to the open casket. The room got silent and courteous.
She rested her small hand on the shiny wood and looked down at her father.
She didn’t say anything at first. She looked at his face with interest but didn’t say anything. Then she made a face.
Her bottom lip shook.
And then, all of a sudden, she yelled.
“Wake up, Dad!” Dad, why are you sleeping? “Open your eyes!” Please!
The room pulled away. It was so loud that it disrupted the silence. Some folks turned away. Some people cried.
But then she said something that no one expected.
She leaned forward, stroked her father’s cheek, and cried.
— “Daddy’s scared…” He told me. He said, “Please help me…” “I’m here!”
People got up and moved. A woman in her 80s held her chest. A man at the back of the room leaned in to try to hear better.
And then the words came that changed everything:
“He didn’t go.” He is still in there! “Daddy said he’s stuck.”
People gasped and talked quietly in the crowd. People were worried and stared at each other. What was she trying to say?
The girl’s mother went up to her, clearly shaken, and knee down next to her.
— “Sweetheart… What do you mean? What did Dad say?
The girl rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. Her voice was faint now, but you could still hear it.
– ” He came last night. He sat on my bed. He said, “They did it on purpose.” I shouldn’t have gone. “Uncle.”
It got really cold outside.
The room went quiet.
Uncle. The brother of her father. A man in a gray suit who had been standing quietly by the wall all morning now seemed to be having problems breathing.
A few others stared at him. A person rose up and went without saying a word. Someone called.
Someone whispered, “What did she just say?”
The widow didn’t move; she just looked at her daughter.
— “Sweetheart,” she said in a voice that was hard to hear, “What did Daddy say about Uncle?”
The girl paused for a moment.
“He said Uncle made him go.” Dad didn’t want to. But Uncle kept saying things will be fine. Then the car fell, and Daddy felt terrible. He told her not to be mad at him.
Be quiet.
There was a dramatic change.
The man in the gray suit opened his mouth, maybe to deny what was said or to run away, but nothing came out. His lips were shaking. He had misplaced the mask he was wearing.
The next day, the widow went to the police.
They started the investigation again, which had concluded fast.
What they learned changed everything.
Security cameras caught the two brothers having a quiet, suspicious conversation late that night. Police testing showed that the brake lines had been cut. People used to think the crash was an accident, but now they think it was a crime.
But earlier, no one knew any of the details.
Who else knew what was going on?
A little girl.
Who woke up to see her dad sitting on the edge of her bed?
Not angry.
Just afraid.
I want her to remember the truth.