Then Aaron stood up.
He looked nervous.
His hands were rough and clasped tightly in front of him.
“I’m Kinsley’s dad,” he said.
The room turned.
Kinsley sank lower in her chair.
Aaron looked at her, then back at everyone else.
“My daughter made a mistake. A serious one. We have handled it at home. That part is private.”
I saw Kinsley glance up.
That one sentence gave her back a little dignity.
Aaron continued.
“But I made a mistake too. I thought if I worked hard, paid bills, kept food in the house, checked her grades, then I was doing enough.”
He paused.
“I wasn’t.”
The room was silent.
“I didn’t know who followed her online. I didn’t know what she posted. I didn’t know her account was public. I thought danger would look obvious. I thought it would knock on the door. I didn’t understand it could arrive through a screen before my child ever left the porch.”
