Don and Gwen Collins were high school sweethearts. They were married shortly after graduating from the University of Puget Sound. Don majored in business and leadership and went to work for his family's realty company right away. Gwen earned her degree in chemistry and began a career at a pharmaceutical company.

They forged an upper-middle-class lifestyle for themselves in an affluent Seattle suburb.

Andrew John—A.J—was planned. The couple spent four years establishing their careers before attempting to have children. A.J. seemed to come easy, as the couple had only been trying to conceive for three months when Gwen became pregnant.

The twins took a little more time. They planned for a two-year gap in their children. Three years after A.J. was born, J. Derrick and T. Davis followed. The boys were given single initial first names as an homage to Don's best friend. J. Keith Tollefson had just recently died in a car accident when the boys were born. J. Derrick was quickly dubbed, "J.D." The moniker lasted until he was 13 when he insisted on being called, "Derrick." T. Davis was affectionately referred to as 'Deuce," as 'T.D.' did not have the same ring to it. Gwen's father had coined the nickname as he was the second of the twins born. He was two minutes younger than his brother.

Jenna Samantha caught everyone off guard when A.J. was eight and the twins five. Don had undergone an—apparently failed—vasectomy six months prior to conception. The Collins felt their family was complete with three active sons, so it was a practical decision. Jenna's conception was a miracle to the couple and she was the girl Gwen had secretly hoped for. She was never considered an accident, but rather a blessing on the family.

Over the years, Don and Gwen established themselves as pillars of the community. They did charitable work in the church and were active with the rotary and chamber of commerce.

All four kids were easy to make friends with and followed their parents' active nature. Their schedules were full of sports and clubs throughout their early childhood. A.J. grew up quickly. He was the oldest of four and having responsibility thrust upon him in the household. He took pride in watching over his younger siblings. He was close with his father and matched his serious, yet caring demeanor.

J.D. was the social butterfly of the children. He made friends wherever he went and made sure everyone in the room was aware of who he was. His relationships were usually superficial and advantageous to him. He did cultivate a small, tight inner circle of friends. In contrast to A.J., he was unconcerned by most things and acted impulsively. Despite his outward friendliness, he often rubbed some people the wrong way. Nonetheless, he remained quite popular. He was also above average in most athletic and academic pursuits.

As a member of J.D.'s inner circle, Deuce was "popular adjacent." He was the more reserved brother. He also often found himself defending his brother's careless behavior. J.D. seemed to suck a lot of the oxygen out of a room, so Deuce was reticent at forging his path in these circles. He did make efforts early to carve out unrelated niches away from his partner. He gravitated to sports and activities that J.D. had quickly abandoned or had shown no interest in. They were teammates on the baseball and basketball teams. Deuce did not even consider following his brother into debate. He also relished having soccer and piano lessons to himself.

Deuce was unheralded in most areas but quietly excelled. He was a tough defender in soccer with an eye for going forward and assisting the attack. He was always one or two passes ahead of assists, so he received few plaudits. He was adept at playing the piano but refused to play in front of people. In a larger family, Deuce preferred to keep some things to himself as 'his' and only his.

Davis loathed the 'Deuce' nickname after his grandfather shared its origin as a joke when he was six. His tantrum yielded nothing more than amused looks from the assembled adults. Abandoning the moniker proved to be a futile enterprise.

The only inroads he made was that Jenna may have never called him Deuce in her life. He taught her to call him 'Davis' with some early encouragement.

The youngest Collins looked up to her three siblings as they doted on her every need from an early age. She was spoiled without acting the part. Each family member tried to give her anything she wanted and she was appreciative.

In her first eight years, Jenna was a fixture at events and games for everyone in the family. She drew attention from adults wherever she went with her cute and precocious nature. On her own, she played soccer—at the suggestion of Davis—and joined a dance team—at her mother's insistence. She hated both activities but thrived in tee-ball. It was a development that seemed to make everyone happy.

The Collins had a fast-paced and social lifestyle. Don and Gwen balanced their own social engagements with those of their children. Both parents made concerted efforts to split the children's responsibilities. They tried to spread their time among their children equitably and were on top of everything. The one exception was Deuce's piano playing. The teacher said he was playing well, but they'd have to take her word for it.

It was not a facade. The external perceptions matched the inner workings of the family. To keep the balance, Don and Gwen managed the household with military precision. They kept to their schedule and rewarded responsibility and good decision-making. The parents loved each of their children and had reasonable expectations for them.

One phone call shattered everything.

Gwen was managing the household affairs one night when A.J. answered the call in the kitchen. She was corralling Jenna and giving A.J. information to order pizza for dinner. J.D. was getting ready for debate practice.

"Hello, may I speak with the parents of T. Davis Collins?" said a grave voice on the other line.

"Mom, phone for you," A.J. said, offering the receiver to his mother.

"Thanks, dear, can you help Jenna find her coat," Gwen said, passing off her youngest to her oldest, "Hello, this is Gwen."

"Ma'am is your son T. Davis Collins?" the voice asked.

"Yes, he is. Is everything okay?" she asked, concern rising in her voice.

"Ma'am, my name is Detective Adam Tinsley. I am assisting local police on a case, and I need you to come down to the station."

"Is my son okay?" she asked frantically.

"Your son is safe, ma'am, but you should come down so we can speak in person. Do you know where you are going?"

"Yes, yes," she responded dismissively, scanning her brain for an idea of what the problem could be. "I can be there in 15 minutes."

She hung up the phone and turned her focus to her children. All three stood in the adjacent dining room. They nervously looked at their mother, whose face had lost all color.

"Is everything okay, mom?" asked A.J.

"Change of plans, dear," she started, attempting to remain calm. "Get pizza for everyone," she added, starting to work her way around the room. "J.D., you're not going to debate tonight. I'm sorry. Jenna, sweetie, mommy has to run out for a bit, listen to A.J. and eat your dinner really good."

She finished by addressing all her children, "I'm not sure when I will get back. When your father gets home, have him call my cell phone, and make sure you get your homework done. You can watch TV after that."

Gwen was in a daze as she finished the instructions for her children and left the house. She could not recall any part of the drive. She and could not recall if there were buses outside the high school as she drove by or even if that was the way she took. When she arrived at the station, her autopilot continued. She entered the building and managed to get connected with "Detective Leonard."

The detective guided her into a conference room that was being used as a makeshift office. Leonard and his partner Detective Tinsley were out of Seattle. They had been called in by a colleague. The small suburban police department did not have much experience in this type of case.

Leonard addressed the shell-shocked mother but received no confirmation she was listening. Gwen Collins' trance continued through some formalities. It was broken when Leonard insisted on a response.

"I'm sorry, what?" she finally asked.

"Ma'am, I'm helping out the local police because a child has died," he said gravely. "Tim Watkins. Do you know him?"

"That's horrible," she offered, still in shock. "Yes, he is on my sons' baseball team. His stepfather Craig is the coach. What happened?"

"Well, ma'am, it seems there was a fight. He fell and hit his head."

"And Davis? Where is my son? Did he witness it?"

"Your son is in another room. It appears he was the one fighting with Tim and the boy fell and hit his head on a rock. Preliminarily, that is what killed him."

Gwen's face displayed a lack of recognition of what Leonard was saying, so he continued.

"Based on the initial evidence, it looks like a pretty intense fight. Your son is a suspect in his death."

"Suspect? Davis? That can't be. He was friends with Tim," she insisted.

"Well, Mrs. Collins," he started, asserting a little more gravity to the situation. "According to the victim's stepfather, the boys had fought earlier in the day. His statement—and based on what your son has said—your son went to find Tim. His step-father heard an argument. When he came out to investigate, he found Tim dead and your son by the body crying."

"That can't be, no," the mother protested, adding defensively, "You, you can't talk to my son without a lawyer or at least a parent. He's only 13. He's confused. Tim probably fell and hit his head when they were rough-housing."

She rose as if she were to go find him when the detective motioned for her to sit down.

"Ma'am, please sit down. We're not done here. I assure you; we have not interrogated your son."

By this time, Detective Tinsley had joined the conversation. He looked at his partner with an air of concern. Leonard disregarded the look and continued.

"What I've told you, he was saying unprompted in the car. We are not using this as evidence, but we are considering it to give some direction to the investigation."

Tinsley then laid out what they thought happened.

Davis and Tim fought earlier in the day. It started with some pushing and accusations, but other kids pulled the two away. Later, Davis went to find Tim. They didn't have much evidence of what transpired when he found him in his backyard. They were heard arguing. When Tim's step-father looked out a second-floor window, he saw the boys pushing each other. When he reached the yard, Tim was laying on the ground and Davis was next to him.

Once Gwen composed herself, the detective led her to the room where her son was sitting. When they entered, she saw her son sitting across the room, hands on his lap and staring at the floor in front of him. He had blood on his shirt and his hands were stained with blood that he could not wipe off.

The mother was at a loss. She wanted to hug her son, but when she saw him the thought that he may have killed another boy entered her mind. She slowly walked to her son and squatted beside him.

"Honey are you okay?" she asked, taking his hand and trying to make eye contact. "Everything is going to be okay."

"We would like to officially talk to your son now," Tinsley said. "I'd like to hear his side of the story and we can look to get him processed."

There was a knock on the door. Leonard opened the door, talked to an officer, and stepped to the side to allow Don Collins to enter.

"Don," Gwen exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Timmy Watkins is..." She couldn't finish her sentence.

"I know," he responded, taking a seat next to her and holding her hand. "I got a call from Alex. He filled me in. You should've called, I'd have come right away."

Eventually, the attention turned to Davis. The three adults watched him closely. Detective Tinsley took the lead, activating a recorder before they got started.

"Davis, son, do you know why you're here?"

Davis subtly nodded his head.

"I'm going to need you to answer me out loud."

He cleared his throat and said "yes" in a volume just above a whisper and without looking up.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"Ummm..." Davis started. "I went over to Tim's house to talk to him."

Davis then proceeded to explain that he went over to apologize. Their argument earlier on the day was due to a misunderstanding and, as they were friends, he felt bad.

He usually went to Tim's back door, entering the backyard off the main road that connected their houses. As he emerged from the hedges, he heard arguing and hid.

"Who was arguing?" Tinsley asked.

Davis shook his head, without looking at the detective, and mumbled "I don't know."

Tinsley and his parents noticed a shift in his demeanor. There was tension as he continued. He mentioned waiting until the coast was clear and checking on Tim.

That tension seemed to ease as Tinsley continued his line of questioning.

"What did you do next?"

Davis slumped in his seat and said that he'd crouched down, poked, and shook his friend. When he saw the blood, he checked Tim's head and that was how he got blood on himself.

"Do you remember Coach Anderson coming out?"

Davis looked directly at Tinsley and replied, "I don't know." He quickly added, "No. I don't think so."

The interview wrapped up shortly thereafter and Davis was able to leave with his parents. He was the focus of the investigation from that point on, with Craig Anderson the prime witness.

Anderson testified he had heard arguing. When he looked out the window, he saw Davis punching Tim repeatedly. It was a slight embellishment from his initial statement to the police, but no one noticed. Or cared. Anderson added that he ran downstairs and into the backyard, but was too late. Tim was on the ground dead. He then ran inside and called the police. He would add that he struck Davis out of shock and anger. He thought that's what led to him being on the ground crying when the police arrived.

Davis was charged with involuntary manslaughter as a minor. With his age and the charge as such, he was able to avoid being charged as an adult. The district attorney made one offer, one which would see Davis released at age 18, but it hinged on a confession.

His story was inconsistent but for the fact that he did not do it. His story wavered on what he'd overheard, where he'd hidden, and how long he waited before checking on Tim. He also did not have any accounting of Coach Anderson's presence.

Detectives had a working theory: Davis went to find Tim and they picked up where they left off with their fight. Davis had several bruises and cuts that indicated he had been in an altercation. Tim had consistent injuries, including a cut on a knuckle on his right hand. Tinsley and Leonard regretted they could not prove with certainty what happened. They theorized that Davis had grabbed the rock out of anger. The force with which he hit his head on the rock was incongruent with the force of a 13-year-old pushing the victim. Unfortunately, they could not disprove Tim hit his head while falling. Without proof of intent, the district attorney's office pushed for the lesser charge. This cause consternation among investigators.

Don and Gwen implored their son to confess to receive the lighter sentence. They offered it as self-preservation at first. Over time, the tactic shifted. They wanted their son to admit what he did to take steps in rehabilitating. He could work through his issues and still have a life.

The first night home, J.D. moved into A.J.'s room and Davis found himself without a roommate for the first time in his life. The car ride home was quiet, as were the next couple days. The Collins family walked on eggshells around him. Most of the family refused to make eye contact with him. Jenna was kept away and conversations were always ending when he entered the room.

Meetings with Davis' defense lawyer revolved around getting him the lightest sentence. Adults in the room implored Davis to confess. No one ever discussed proving his innocence. The evidence seemed overwhelming, even to his parents.

The young man quickly shut down and became despondent. This carried over to the trial and he was labeled as unrepentant by both the DA and the media following the case.

Davis never took the stand and Craig Anderson proved to be the star witness against him. The little league coach was also approachable to the media. He advocated for his dead stepson on his wife's behalf. He also offered sympathy to the Collins family. Anderson even asked to speak with Davis alone. Afterwards, he would dramatically tell reporters that he had forgiven the young man.

Davis was found guilty. When the judge announced the verdict, Gwen cried, and Don held his wife close. The couple had been in the gallery every day. They struggled to come to grips with what their son had done, as well as his refusal to tell the truth.

Though they wouldn't admit it, the DA's portrayal of Davis swayed them. His portrayal as a violent child who fought often was consistent with his behavior. His being unremorseful in the scared them, as well. At night, they were introspective on what they could've done to prevent this. They also wondered what they can do to keep their other children safe, as well as make sure they don't turn out the same way.

When the final hearing was over, Davis looked at his parents in the back of the courtroom. His father consoled his mother as he offered a sympathetic look to his son. Davis turned to wipe his watering eyes and runny nose when the bailiff came to escort him from the room. As he approached, the officer asked Davis if he'd like to say goodbye to his parents before he left.

Davis turned and scanned the gallery to find his parents once more. He caught a glimpse of his father as he disappeared out of the door. He lowered his head and turned back to the bailiff, offering a soft, "no, that's alright."

The bailiff led him away.