Buzz
Three years, what a joke of a sentence. The boy killed my baby girl and only got three years. He was caught standing over her body with the gun. He instantly admitted that he had done it and would do it again. Three years and he never once changed his statement or showed one ounce of regret for killing my baby girl. Three years I spent angry. My anger only grew more pronounced while going through my baby girl's things. My old lady found an old diary of our Cora's. In the days when she was alive, it would have been wrong of us to read those pages, but she was gone, so we read them, hoping to find her voice in those pages. What we found were pages of Cora writing about being with the guy that took her life. She wrote about him asking her to be his old lady. She wrote about many things,
