Epilogue
They will both die in prison.
Diane Downs, who once imagined herself a star-crossed lover denied her freedom by fate, now passes her days cataloging grievances and writing long, imploring letters to anyone who’ll read them. She insists she’s innocent. That her daughter and son — paralyzed by her hand — were brainwashed to testify. Her smile, even now, has not entirely faded. It’s just hardened.
Lori Vallow Daybell, convicted of murdering her children and conspiring to murder her husband’s wife, stood in court and called herself “a mother”. She spoke of spirits. She smiled when the verdict came down. She spoke of visits from her daughter and believes she’ll be reunited with her children in heaven.
The world may forget their names. The court transcripts may fade into dusty files. But somewhere, buried beneath the mythology and madness, are the children. Cheryl. Danny. Christie. Tylee. JJ.
They are the true story. The only one that matters.
Evil often looks like us. It holds doors open. It helps with groceries. It raises children. And sometimes it smiles at you — as the darkness falls behind it.