At 4:12 p.m., I was standing in my kitchen when a state trooper called. My car had crashed on the interstate, and both my kids were in the back seat. My husband had told me they were at his mother’s house. Then I found out who’d been driving my car. It was his girlfriend, and she was drunk.
I read those words twice. My husband hadn’t merely lied about where our children were spending Saturday. He…
