First Person
Jun. 1, 2013
A Knock at the Door
A lawyer looks back at a day that forever changed her life.
I didn't make the bed the morning of Sunday, November 2, 2008; my husband, Marco, was still asleep when I left the house. I always make the bed. When I returned to the house late that afternoon, I straightened the linens, all the while grumbling about Marco's failure to do so.
Suddenly, I heard a loud knock at the door, which was strange: In Los Angeles, no one just stops by. On my front porch was a CHP officer. He asked me if Marco Ferreira lived there. "Yes," I an...
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