Rebecca stood outside a private rehabilitation residence holding a cardigan around her shoulders. She was thinner, her hair streaked with gray, but I knew my daughter immediately. I nearly opened the car door before Lily’s warning stopped me. Instead, I called my attorney and asked him to meet me there. What we learned over the next several hours made seven years of grief feel suddenly unreal.
Rebecca had survived the crash with a severe brain injury. During the first chaotic weeks, Warren had told us she died after complications, while telling the rehabilitation facility that Rebecca had no living parents able to participate in her care. The urn we received had never contained remains identified as hers. Warren had become the primary contact controlling nearly every detail surrounding her treatment and finances.
...
