JJ
The first packet from the prosecutor’s office was thinner than I expected.
I’d imagined every awful thing Donald had done spread across pages thick enough to require a box. Instead, the victim advocate sent me a description of the pending charges, upcoming court dates, and an explanation of how I could participate without having to speak to my husband.
I sat in my office at the tattoo shop with the pages beside Marissa’s divorce paperwork. Both piles had Donald Harper’s name on them, but apparently that was about the only thing they had in common.
When I called the advocate, I went straight to the part that bothered me.
“Where are the rest of the charges?”
“These are the allegations the prosecutor is proceeding with right now. Some of the conduct you reported is documented, but th
