Chapter 3 - Nineteen Minutes The autopsy did not prove murder.
That disappointed half the internet once the case became public.
Real evidence refused to perform on schedule.
Amanda had a skull fracture and internal head injury consistent with striking the bottom edge of the basement stair landing.
She also had bruising on her upper left arm and right wrist.
Could those have occurred during a fall?
Possibly.
Could someone have grabbed her?
Also possibly.
Toxicology showed no fatal overdose.
No exotic poison.
A prescribed sleep medication was present at a low therapeutic level.
Alcohol was negligible.
Nothing explained everything.
Then investigators obtained Amanda’s smartwatch data.
9:42:18 p.m.
A sudden fall event.
No response to the watch’s automatic prompt.
Very limited movement afterward.
Robert called 911 at 10:01 p.m.
Nineteen minutes.
His original statement said:
“I heard her fall, ran downstairs, and called immediately.”
He had not.
Detective Ward interviewed him again with counsel present.
Robert said panic distorted his sense of time.
“What did you do for nineteen minutes?”
“I tried to wake her.”
“CPR?”
“She was breathing.”
“Did you call anyone?”
“No.”
“Search for medication?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Handle her purse?”
“No.”
“Why were you wearing a ring from that purse at her funeral?”
Silence.
Then:
“Amanda gave it to me earlier.”
Different again.
“When?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“Before the fall?”
“Yes.”
Katie—that was me—said Amanda was hiding it from you Wednesday.
“She is nine.”
His attorney stopped the interview.
The nineteen minutes became central.
Then investigators obtained router records from our house.
Robert’s phone remained connected to home Wi-Fi throughout the gap.
No proof what he did.
But it weakened his early claim that his phone had been upstairs and he “couldn’t find it.”
He had not said that in the first interview.
He said it later.
Another inconsistency.
Aunt Julia hired Naomi Price.
Naomi represented Amanda’s estate and Julia in guardianship matters with separate counsel where conflicts required.
She was precise about that.
“The criminal case belongs to the state.”
“The estate case belongs to us.”
“Katie’s guardianship belongs to family court.”
“Do not mix them simply because Robert appears in all three.”
I liked Naomi immediately.
Robert filed for temporary visitation with me.
Not custody yet.
The court appointed a guardian ad litem.
I told her:
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Ever?”
“I don’t know.”
Good answer, apparently.
The judge allowed no unsupervised contact while the death investigation remained active but left the issue open.
Robert wrote me a letter.
Katie,
I loved your mother.
I love you.
I would never hurt either of you.
I stared at the second sentence.
Would.
Present tense for me.
Past tense for Mom.
Normal grammar.
Still made my stomach twist.
Then:
The ring was something Amanda wanted me to have.
I folded the letter.
The next day Julia found Amanda’s calendar synced to her laptop.
Thursday—the day she died—contained an appointment at 3:00 p.m.
N. Price — documents + ring + drive.
Naomi stared when Julia showed her.
“I never met her Thursday.”
“Were you supposed to?”
“No.”
Then she checked old intake records.
Amanda had contacted Naomi’s office under a different matter number.
Not estate planning.
Potential marital financial fraud.
May you like
My mother had been trying to meet the woman who was now representing her estate.
And the missing USB had apparently been meant for that meeting.
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