David started to cry. «Hope, I’ve been living in terror for months. Every meal could have been my last. Every night I stayed awake wondering if I would wake up in the morning.»
«Why didn’t you run away? Why did you stay in that house with her?»
«Because I love you like the mother I never had. I couldn’t leave her free to hurt you.»
His words moved me deeply. This man had risked his life to protect me from my own daughter.
«David, what exactly did you know about Monica’s other husbands?»
«I knew they had both died young, and that she had inherited all their money, but it wasn’t until I found her diaries that I realised she had murdered them.»
«Did you read the full diaries?»
«Yes, it’s chilling, Hope. She wrote about every dose of poison as if she were writing cooking recipes. Completely unemotional, totally calculated.»
«Was there anything in the diaries about me?»
David nodded sadly. «Pages and pages of plans to kill you. She had been studying your routine for months. Finding the best way to poison you without it seeming suspicious.»
«When was she going to do it?»
«Originally, she had planned to do it gradually over several months, so it would look like natural death. But lately, she had decided to speed up the plan.»
«Why?»
«Because she thought you were starting to suspect her. She wrote that you had been asking questions about her finances, and that you had mentioned wanting to know more about her previous husbands.»
«I never asked those questions.»
«I know. I think Monica was becoming paranoid. When serial killers have been active for a long time, they often start seeing threats where there are none.»
«David, there’s something else I need to ask you.»
«What?»
«Do you think Monica really loved me, even a little?»
David looked at me with deep compassion. «Hope, based on what I read in her diaries, I don’t think Monica is capable of loving anyone. She saw you as a source of money and protection, but not as a mother.»
«What did she write about me specifically?»
«She wrote about you as if you were a long-term investment project. She calculated how much money you had spent on her over the years, how much your inheritance was worth, how long she would have to wait to inherit everything.»
«Did she ever write anything affectionate about me?»
David looked down. «No, Hope. I’m sorry.»
For the first time since this nightmare began, I started crying for real. Not tears of shock or fear, but tears of genuine grief for the daughter I thought I had, but who had never really existed.
A week after Monica’s arrest, Detective Clark summoned me to the police station for a meeting that would completely change my understanding of the situation.
«Mrs. Miller,» she told me as I sat down in her office. «We have been investigating your daughter’s past based on the evidence you provided. What we have discovered is worse than any of us imagined.»
«What have you found?»
«Monica hasn’t just killed her two husbands. We have identified at least six more victims over the past 30 years.»
The room started spinning. Six more.
Three college boyfriends who died in strange accidents. A boss who died of a heart attack after not giving her a promotion she wanted. An elderly neighbor who died of ‘natural causes’ after complaining about her cats making too much noise. And a co-worker who died in a car accident after reporting that Monica had been stealing money from the company.
«How is it possible that no one noticed the pattern?»
«Because Monica is extremely intelligent. She spaced out the murders by years, used different methods each time, and always had solid alibis. Furthermore, she moved frequently, so there were never multiple deaths in the same police jurisdiction.»
«Detective, is there anything about… About when she was a child?»
Detective Clark opened another file. «That’s where the situation gets truly disturbing. We’ve been investigating the fire that supposedly killed her biological parents.»
«And?»
«It wasn’t an accident, and Monica wasn’t five years old when it happened.»
«What do you mean?»
«Monica was eight years old when she murdered her biological parents. The social workers falsified her age to make her more adoptable, and invented the trauma story to explain her psychopathic behavior.»
«Did the social workers know she had killed her parents?»
«At least one of them knew. Jane Miller, the woman who oversaw her adoption, left notes in the file indicating that she knew Monica had deliberately started the fire.»
«Why did they allow me to adopt her if they knew she was dangerous?»
«Because Jane Miller received a bribe of $50,000 to falsify the documents and find Monica a family.»
«A bribe from whom?»
«That’s the most chilling part. The bribe came from Monica’s biological parents’ inheritance. Even at eight years old, she was smart enough to bribe government officials to get what she wanted.»
I remained silent for several minutes, processing the magnitude of what I had just heard. «Detective, does this mean that for 30 years I have been raising a serial killer?»
«Yes, it means you were a victim of an elaborate deception that began when Monica was a child. You had no way of knowing the truth.»
«But how did I not realize? How could I have been so blind?»
«Mrs. Miller, psychopaths like Monica are masters of manipulation. They study their victims for years. They learn exactly which buttons to push to get what they want. You wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world, and Monica exploited that desire.»
«Are there more victims that we don’t know about?»
«We are investigating. Based on her behavioral patterns, we estimate that she may have killed up to 20 people during her life.»
«20 people?»
«Monica started killing at age eight, and she never stopped. It’s one of the most extreme cases of psychopathy we’ve seen.»
«Detective, what’s going to happen to her now?»
«She is going to be tried for multiple counts of first-degree murder. With the evidence we have, she will likely receive life imprisonment without the possibility of parole.»
«Do you want to see her?»
The question surprised me. «Can I?»
«Yes, but I must warn you that Monica is constantly asking to see you. She says she needs to explain something important.»
«Something important?»
«We don’t know what, but Mrs. Miller, if you decide to visit her, be very careful. Even in jail, Monica is still extremely manipulative.»
«Do you think I should see her?»
«That decision is completely yours, but if you decide to do so, I recommend you mentally prepare yourself to hear things that can be very disturbing.»
«What kind of things?»
«Monica has been talking to the jail psychologists. She has made some statements about you that… that are not pleasant.»
«What kind of statements?»
«She says she never really loved you. She says you only adopted her to feel better about yourself after not being able to have biological children. She says you used her to fill the void in your life.»
«And do you believe that’s true?»
«Mrs. Miller, based on everything I have observed about you during this investigation, I believe you genuinely loved that child with all your heart. The fact that she couldn’t reciprocate that love is not your fault.»
«Detective, I want to see her.»
«Are you sure?»
«Yes. After 30 years, I think I deserve to hear the truth from her mouth.»
The county jail was a grey, depressing building that smelled of disinfectant and hopelessness. When I entered the visiting room, Monica was already sitting at a metal table, wearing the orange inmate uniform.
She looked small and vulnerable, exactly like the five-year-old girl who had arrived at my house 30 years ago.
«Mom,» she said in a soft voice when I sat across from her. «Thank you for coming. Mom, there are so many things I need to explain to you.»
«I’m listening.»
«First, I want you to know that I am very sorry for everything that happened. I never wanted to hurt David, and I definitely never wanted to hurt you.»
It was the same sweet, manipulative voice she had used for 30 years. But now I knew exactly what it was.
«Monica, the police told me you have killed at least eight people.»
«Mom, that’s not true. Some of those deaths were accidents, and others were… Well, they were bad people who deserved it.»
«Bad people like your husbands.»
«Robert used to hit me, Mom. I never told you because I didn’t want to worry you, but he hit me every night. What I did to him was self-defence.»
«And Frank?»
«Frank was stealing money from elderly clients at his job. He was a thief who ruined the lives of innocent people.»
«And the neighbour who complained about your cats? How do you know about that?»
«The police told me. Why did you kill him?»
«Mom, he threatened to poison my cats. I couldn’t allow that.»
«Monica, did you kill your biological parents when you were eight years old?»
Her expression changed immediately. The mask of vulnerability slipped for a moment, revealing something cold and calculating underneath. «Who told you that?»
«The police investigated the fire. They know it wasn’t an accident.»
«Mom, they don’t understand what really happened.»
«Then you explain it to me.»
«My biological parents were monsters. They did things to me, terrible things a child should never experience.»
«What kind of things?»
«Things I can’t repeat. Things that damaged me so much that I had to defend myself. By killing them, it was the only way to escape.»
«Monica, why did you lie about your age?»
«I didn’t lie. The social workers got confused with the documents.»
«Monica, I know you bribed Jane Miller to falsify your file.»
«Bribe? Mom, I was eight years old. How was I going to bribe someone?»
«With your parents’ inheritance money.»
«Mom, I think the police are lying to you to turn you against me.»
«Monica, did you ever really love me?»
The question came out of my mouth before I could stop it. It was the question I had been avoiding asking because I was afraid of the answer.
Monica looked at me in silence for long seconds. I could see her mind working, calculating what answer to give me. «Of course I loved you, Mom. You are the only mother I’ve ever known.»
«That’s not a real answer.»
«What do you mean?»
«I asked if you loved me, not if you considered me your mother.»
«Mom, why are you asking me that?»
«Because I found your diaries. I read what you wrote about me. I know you saw me as a source of money, not as a mother.»
The mask slipped completely. The expression on Monica’s face changed to something I had never seen before. Pure coldness and absolute contempt.
«Do you want to know the truth?» she said in an icy voice.
«Yes.»
«No. I never loved you. Not for a second in thirty years.»
Her words hit me like physical slaps. But I continued. «Why?»
«Because you’re pathetic. You’re a desperate woman who was so hungry to be a mother that you adopted a child without doing any real research into her past.»
«I trusted the social workers.»
«You trusted because you wanted to trust. Because it was easier to believe a pretty lie than to investigate the ugly truth. Monica, do you know how easy it was to manipulate you?»
«From the first day I came to your house, I knew exactly what kind of woman you were. Lonely, needy, desperate for love. All I had to do was act like the damaged child who needed healing. And you gave me everything I wanted.»
«Everything you wanted? Protection? Money? A perfect alibi? Who is going to suspect that a woman adopted by a respectable accountant is a killer?»
«So you never felt anything for me?»
«I felt gratitude for your usefulness. I felt satisfaction at how easy it was to control you. But love? No, Mom. Psychopaths don’t love.»
«So you admit you’re a psychopath.»
«I admit I’m superior. I admit I’m smarter than normal people like you.»
«Superior for killing innocent people?»
«Superior for doing what is necessary to get what I want.»
«And what did you want from me?»
«Your money, obviously. But I also wanted to see how long I could keep up the deception. It became an interesting game.»
«A game?»
«A psychological experiment. How long can I make an intelligent woman believe I am her loving daughter while I plan to kill her? And the answer? 30 years. You’re stupider than I thought.»
At that moment, I finally understood completely who Monica really was. She was not my daughter. She had never been my daughter. She was a predator who had used my maternal love as a weapon against me for three decades.
«You know what, Monica?»
«What?»
«Thank you.»
«Thank you for what?»
«For finally showing me your true face. For 30 years, I blamed myself for not being a good enough mother for you. Now I know the problem was never me.»
«The problem is still you, Mom. The problem is that you are weak.»
«No, Monica. The problem is you. You are a monster who feeds on the goodness of other people.»
I stood up to leave.
«Mom, wait.»
«What?»
«I still need you.»
«For what?»
«To testify at my trial. To tell the judge that I had a difficult childhood. That I deserve compassion.»
«No.»
«No?»
«I am going to testify at your trial, Monica. But I’m going to testify about what you really are.»
Her face contorted with pure rage. «If you do that, you’ll regret it.»
«Are you threatening me?»
«I am promising you that I will find a way to hurt you, even from jail.»
«Monica, for 30 years I was afraid of disappointing you. Now you should be afraid of me.»
I left the jail feeling as if a 30-year weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Three months later, Monica’s trial began in the county courthouse. As I had promised, I testified against her, telling exactly what I had discovered about her crimes and her true nature.
