I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I didn’t want to die. I mean—who really does? But, I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t in an accident. I was 46 when my “husband”, who was supposed to love me... took everything from me... He took my life from me. I still had time. I was only 46 years old. I wanted to watch my daughter walk down the aisle. To be there the day my baby had a baby. I had more to do. More to say. Now that I'm gone— my daughter has been fighting. To prove I didn’t just “fall.” She has advocated for me since the beginning. She has been my voice, since I couldn't speak. To get justice—for me. I hope you’ll follow along with her on this journey. Because, my daughter… She’s just like me. Justice for me has started—but she’s not stopping. She speaks up for the abused, the battered, the murdered, the missing. She got that from me. She will be the voice for the voiceless. She will stand up— and she won’t shut up. About the warning signs no one saw. About how loud a victim has to scream just to be believed. I screamed. But it wasn’t enough. Not until they heard her.