Chapter 7 - VICTOR ASKED TO SEE THE TWINS
He asked through his attorney.
I almost tore the letter in half.
My lawyer stopped me.
“Read it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You don't have to agree.”
“But read it.”
Victor wanted photographs.
Not physical visitation.
He wrote:
Whatever happens to me, they are still my daughters.
I stared.
My first reaction:
No.
Then anger.
Then something worse.
Grief.
Because before the freezer, Victor had talked to my stomach every night.
He built two cribs.
He argued about middle names.
He cried during the ultrasound.
I hated that those memories remained real.
My lawyer said:
“You can acknowledge complexity without giving him access.”
I sent no photographs immediately.
Later, after consultation with therapists and counsel, I allowed one hospital photograph to be provided through attorneys.
Not for Victor.
For me.
Because I did not want every decision after his crime to be made by rage.
His legal case moved forward.
Attempted homicide-related charges.
Unlawful confinement.
Insurance-related evidence relevant to motive.
Financial charges handled separately where supported.
The intercom recording mattered tremendously.
So did access logs.
So did his own scheduled email.
Eventually, Victor accepted a plea agreement carrying a lengthy prison sentence.
Not because I forgave him.
Because prosecutors weighed evidence, sentencing exposure, and certainty.
At sentencing, he looked at me.
I gave a victim statement.
“I used to think the worst thing you did was lock me in that freezer.”
He lowered his eyes.
“It wasn’t.”
“The worst thing was turning trust into a weapon.”
“You knew I would answer the late-night call.”
“You knew I would go to the warehouse.”
“You knew I would sign insurance paperwork because I trusted you.”
“You knew I loved our daughters enough to beg.”
I paused.
“But you were wrong about one thing.”
Victor looked up.
“You thought killing me would solve your debts.”
“It didn’t.”
“You lost your wife.”
“You lost your career.”
“You lost your freedom.”
“And the daughters you claimed the insurance money would protect survived without needing a dollar from your crime.”
May you like
I walked away.
He never spoke to me directly again.
