My mother was murdered in August 2006. I was seventeen. That night, my sister and I were asleep upstairs.
What followed wasn't just a murder investigation — it became a national spectacle. Headlines, public accusations, theories that grew stranger by the month. At one point, the media debated whether my mother had been killed by the Israeli mafia. And the more information surfaced, the less clear everything became.
For years, I searched for answers. I read thousands of pages of evidence, sat through hearings, followed every lead I could find — until I reached the end of what I knew how to do. So I walked away.
Twenty years later, I'm back. My mother's murder lasted fifteen minutes. The fight over the truth has lasted two decades more — and I'm not done.
Thank you for listening.