It was early November, 2008. A picture of a face I knew well appeared on the television news. It was the face of my friend of several years, a grand lady of 79, full of life, spirit, humor and lots of good will toward others. The news astounded and shocked me.
     My friend had disappeared sometime after arriving home after her last day at her job and foul play was suspected.
      Soon after her disappearance, a newscast announced that the victim's son had been picked up on unrelated charges—possession of a gun while on parole for a drug related felony.
     After the Sherriff’s Department grilled him hours on end, he declared he would not admit to anything, but he would tell them where his mother’s bones could be found.
     As bits and pieces of the story of my friend’s murder became known, the horror of what had happened disturbed me so badly, I couldn’t get it from my mind. She suffered a violent and grisly death at the hands of her son and the visions disturbed me continually. 
     I really needed someone to talk to about what happened to my friend, but since there was no one whom I could discuss it with, I started writing--freeing my emotions through the written word as I pounded out my thoughts and feelings about my friend's murder on my keyboard.
     It took me a year to finish my story, and my book, thereof, which is called Under Suspicion.