Dad's eyes filled.
"I believe she loved you."
"Then why would she do this?"
He looked down.
"Love doesn't prevent people from making terrible choices."
I began sobbing.
For years, I'd believed my childhood accident was the result of one careless boy.
Now I was discovering that adults had made decisions about my body before the accident even happened.
Decisions involving money.
Research.
And secrets.
***
"Why did you write 'Do not inform the mother'?" I finally asked.
Dad looked toward the medical report.
His expression changed.
"That note was taken out of context."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
He opened another document.
It was a longer handwritten memorandum.
The same four words appeared near the bottom.
But there was more beneath them.
*Preserve duplicate adverse-event records outside the research archive.*
*Do not inform the mother until independent review of her connection to the research sponsor has been secured.*
