I grew up next to J.F. Good family, fun kids, serious parenting, respect, respect, respect. He is a slavishly dedicated father, married to a negligent wife who chose not to care for their three children, and to eventually screw around. They divorced last year.
She abused their oldest, who is now a 14 year old girl. When standing in Family Court last year, this child begged, BEGGED, not to be sent to her mother every other weekend. The judge relented and so the younger two kids had to go with Mom every other weekend, although they begged Dad not to send them. Begged him. They felt scared and uncared for every single time they went.
A week ago Saturday the two younger ones were with their mother at her home. There was a fire. All three died in their sleep. The house burned to it’s foundations. They live in extreme northern rural Pennsylvania, and a farmer awakening around 3:45am to do his early chores saw the huge fire from his farm, a mile or so off.
Gone. I met J.F. when I was 13, and now children of his who never will see 13 are gone. I can’t even cry yet. I just went and hugged my kids. Now he has his 14 year old daughter, who was mothering the kids for years as best as she could. And he has a lifetime of nightmares.
I feel badly that anyone would die that way, even someone as angry and loathsome and abusive as his ex-wife. But the kids? Inconceivable.
No sign of foul play, the cops and fire dept. already ruled it as such. The charred remains of the three of them were found in their beds with no signs of struggle.
You’re not supposed to bury your children. :mad:
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