In the dusty outskirts of Seminole, Texas - just past the cotton fields and under the relentless spring sun - Peter Hildebrand stands outside a gas station, his eyes rimmed red and voice cracking.
Imagine you kill a kid and you actually get the parents to show up for a photo-op so you can show the world they don’t blame you and they just go along with all the lies you have been telling and everything goes fine really.
Imagine you kill a kid and you actually get the parents to show up for a photo-op so you can show the world they don’t blame you and they just go along with all the lies you have been telling and everything goes fine really.