Page 97 of The Perfect Divorce

I turn to my computer and start typing, “Good evening, everyone. They say truth is stranger than fiction, and if you didn’t believe that phrase before, you’ll believe it by the time I’m done explaining how the events occurring over the past week and a half connect to a murder that happened more than twelve years ago.”

FIFTY-THREE

SARAH MORGAN

ONE YEAR LATER

I’m seated across from Caroline Wood of60 Minuteson a cozy set that resembles a sitting area one would have in their own home. She’s an elegant woman, fifteen years my senior, dressed in a pair of expensive slacks, a silk blouse, and a smart blazer. Her hair is a shiny gray, stopping right at her shoulders in a perfectly cut bob. She looks down at her note cards, reviewing them before the cameras start rolling. I know there’s a teleprompter set up for her behind me, but she’s old-school, and she likes the feel of paper in her hands.

A young woman readjusts my hair so it falls symmetrically to either side of my chest. She powders my face and delivers a soft smile before scurrying behind the crew.

A man yells out, “Quiet on set,” and then asks us if we’re ready. Caroline and I nod.

She offers a tight smile. It disappears just as quick as she readies herself to begin. I don’t hear the introduction for my interview, as it was previously recorded—but I know what was said, and I know how I’ll be introduced. This is the first interview I’ve agreed to. I’ve had dozens of offers, many attached to large amounts of cash. But I don’t need or want the money. I just want to tell a story.

“Did you always believe your husband Adam Morgan was innocent?” she asks, getting right into it.

“No, Iknewhe was, which is why I chose to stand by his side as his wife and as his lawyer.”

“Did you blame yourself when he was found guilty?”

“For a long time I did, until the news broke a little over a year ago that the sheriff in charge of the investigation had withheld evidence, including an affair he had been having with the victim. Then, I blamed the justice system.”

“It must have been awful to learn that your husband was not only wrongfully accused of murder, but was also wrongly executed,” she says, slightly tilting her head.

I take a short, deep breath. “It was devastating. Adam was the love of my life, and the commonwealth of Virginia murdered him right in front of my eyes.”

She pauses for a moment, allowing me the time to gather myself. There’s nothing to gather though.

“Tell me about Robert Miller,” Caroline says.

“Bob?” I correct. Robert was too distinguished of a name for him. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”

“But you married him. He was your second husband.”

“Unfortunately,” I say.

“Did you ever suspect that Bob murdered Kelly Summers and then framed Adam for his crime?”

It’s a stupid question, but I answer it anyway.

“No, not even in the slightest.”

“And how do you think he got away with it?” she asks.

“He didn’t.”

“But he did for a long time. How do you think that was possible?” She maintains eye contact with me, rarely blinking. It’s unnerving, but I mirror her.

“The Prince William County Sheriff’s Office made that possible. They were essentially an accomplice to Bob’s crimes,” I say, lifting my chin.

“What about you, Sarah? How was he able to get so close to you?”

I clear my throat before I speak. “I was vulnerable, and he knew that. I lost my husband the day he was found guilty and put on death row. The world thought he was a monster, so I wasn’t able to even grieve him properly. It’s a horrible feeling to lose someone and for no one else to care because they don’t deem it as a loss. Bob took advantage of my grief and my vulnerability. The whole situation was beyond complicated for me to process. But Bob was there when no one else was, and that made it easy for him to get close to me.”

“Do you regret marrying him?”

I shake my head. “No, he gave me two things I wouldn’t have had otherwise. My daughter, Summer, and closure.”

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