"What do you think?" Justin asked anxiously as Carl studied the
letters Justin had given him. "Is it enough to squash the
suicide verdict on Jesse?"  "Damned if I know, son, but it
certainly seems to cast doubt on it."  "What do you mean?"
Debbie glared at him, wiping a tear away with the back of her
hand. "Why, it's perfectly obvious that this poor kid was
fucking murdered by the man who should've been looking out for
him, all because he was too much of a fucking coward to admit …"
"Debbie," Carl said, laying a placating hand on her arm, "You've
got to understand this happened a long time ago and all of the
principal witnesses are dead. Apart from these letters, the only
incriminating evidence is the memory of a 98 year-old man. Now
I'm not going to deny that back then law enforcement was looked
at a lot differently, and that it might have been considered
better for society in general to preserve the reputation of the
great and good rather than expose a murder … but proving it
might be another matter. After