The Collins' life was turned upside down after the death of Tim Watkins. The community was divisive throughout the trial. There were some that sympathized for the family, while others blamed them what their son had done. The once active social life receded. All community events and extra-curricular activities ceased. The kids were pulled out of school in favor of homeschooling through a private teacher.

The family left their tight-knit suburban community when Davis was convicted. They settled on the opposite side of Seattle. They looked to blend in a more densely populated, but quaint, neighborhood. They adapted to a new life. It was difficult. Hoping for some semblance of anonymity, the family pushed forward. Over time, things became easier and they were able to carve out a new life.

Don and Gwen struggled to replicate their old lifestyle for their family. Getting the children acclimating to their new surroundings took priority. They developed a new rhythm and a new lifestyle. There was a reluctance to make friends, to get involved and to engage the neighbors. Over time, those things came back to a lesser degree, but it was never the same and never totally comfortable.

It was months before the parents realized they had not connected with Davis. From the time they heard what he'd done, he seemed like a different person to them. There was a small bit of fear for their other children. This paired with concern over what kind of life he'd ever be able to have for himself. Any emotional attachment to their son atrophied during the trial. By the time the court rendered its decision, they felt there was little they could do for him. In prioritizing their family's new life in those first few months, they'd moved on, if almost by accident.

There were regrets, but by the time they'd realized they'd cut off Davis, it seemed too late. What do you say after three weeks? It's even harder after six.

The new life was starting to take, and it did not seem like the right time to mess that up. The worrying at night faded and there was less crying. Life kept moving for the Collins'. Don and Gwen were ever truly happy again, but they became satisfied with "comfortable."

For A.J., the upheaval came at a weird time. He had always embraced the responsibility of being the oldest child. Now, he took on the role of a "third parent." His hope was that he would be one less thing for his parents to worry about. He also ensured J.D. and Jenna had what they needed. The sense of duty, coupled with, as wrong as it felt, the freedom of starting a new life, emboldened him.

He'd wrestled with his sexuality for some time. This new confidence allowed him to embrace who he was and what was going to make him happy. It was ironic that the things that made him different gave him comfort. Sixteen is not a comfortable time for many people. Six months later, he came out to his parents and they supported him.

The only thing working against A.J. during this time was the guilt he felt for being happier than he'd ever been before.

J.D. processed everything internally. He'd always been rather superficial and never had deep feelings to share. Now, without his twin, he felt alone for the first time and angry. Where he'd taken comfort in large friend groups, he now felt alone in a crowd. In his new life, he went by "Derrick" and remained sociable. He made new friends but maintained a public superficiality. In his old life, he had a dozen friends that knew everything about him. Going forward, he had dozens of friends, but a handful had any idea of what he was going through. To his family, the only thing that changed was his name, but he was filled with anger and darkness on the inside. He processed these feelings as best he could, but there was always a distant and pained look in his eyes.

Jenna was unfazed by the transition. She was too young to understand what was going on and she found herself shepherded along to this new life. Her questions were often dismissed to the point that she stopped asking. With so much change going on in her life, the absence of her brother was the only thing she noticed.

She made new friends, grew up, moved on, but never really forgot. In her teens, she read every article the internet had on her brother's case. There were still questions that went unanswered. Whatever happened to Deuce, who she called "Dooz" for a short time, remained a mystery. There was futility in seeking out information. She found constant roadblocks in finding out anything about his life. She was 16 when he was released and there was no trail of evidence to pick up on.

While his family adapted and worked to move on with their lives, Davis waited. He had no idea what to expect, but he held out hope that someone would reach out to comfort him. Someone would let him know everything was going to be okay and that he was not alone in this. There was an expectant hope that there would be a visit or phone call. As the days turned into weeks, hope became desperation.

At the one-month mark, there was only resignation.

Davis started to realize that he was going to go through this alone. There were going to be no visits, no reassurances. He longed to hug someone, anyone, from his life and not let go.

His final shred of hope fell away one night about six weeks after he'd arrived. He laid in bed imagining grabbing his mother tightly. She was stroking his head and letting him know everything would be fine. He didn't want to open his eyes, pressing them closed tighter and tighter. Eventually, he fell asleep still gripping his pillow, which had become noticeably damp. These represented his last tears for his family.

There was juvenile detention and then a world of unknowns that no 13-year-old can fathom. The past was gone and the future was scary. He had no idea how he would navigate his sentence, much less what came after. He retreated inward. He focused on adapting to juvenile detention. He developed numbness and a feeling of forced inevitability.

He stuck to himself as best he could. He avoided many of the defiant or hard case teens that populated the facility. Being a convicted killer offered the luxury of being able to stick to himself. As far as the other kids were concerned, he was a killer and not one to be trifled with.

Davis had no attachments, nothing to miss, nothing to look forward to. The lack of these things left him empty. And, over time, a realization set in that he would have to start a completely new life from scratch.

Hope started to creep in over time.

At some point, Davis started to look at his future as an opportunity. The emptiness waned. He devoted himself to set himself up to succeed. He easily earned his GED at 16 years and then his college degree at 20. He was inspired to start writing after seeing an Indiana Jones movie. This led to a passion for history.

His protagonist was initially based on Indiana Jones' father. He was a focused archaeologist and historian that struggled with the basic needs of his son. He used the character as a writing prompt and the character evolved over a series of short stories. In Davis' first manuscript, Dr. Nevada Kane had little in common with his inspiration.

Kane did still have the Indiana Jones knock-off name. A learning counselor encouraged him to keep for the "kitsch" value. He thought it was in the "true spirit of the low-budget pulp serials in which the movie drew its inspiration."

Or something like that.

"Dr. Kane and the Treasure of King Tut" took Davis three weeks to write and he finished after his 19th birthday. It was a taut 250 pages and received positive responses from a couple of the teachers at the facility. He sent the book to about two dozen publishers. City Field Press showed interest and he formed a relationship with the company. When he was released, he'd built up a nest egg and had a steady job as a writer.

Davis immediately left the Seattle area when he was able. He took the train to California and settled outside of Sacramento. He rented a small studio apartment and established a solitary life. He wrote most days and played video games most nights. He ran about five miles each night before picking up his gaming.

He was also interested in sports. He held a soft spot for his hometown Seattle Seahawks for football. In soccer, he'd adopted Bayern Munich from Germany's Bundesliga as his own. He like basketball but did not have a team that he rooted for. The Supersonics left town when he was young. He couldn't bring himself to cheer for the Sacramento Kings.

He couldn't watch or follow baseball since he was arrested. When it was on TV while he was in juvie, he would have flashbacks to playing with Tim and end up having a panic attack.

Davis did not own a TV and his legal streaming options were limited for sports. To watch football and soccer, he made rare trips to bars. He liked the times of day when the games were on and found it easy to saddle up to a bar for lunch to watch the Seahawks or breakfast for Bayern Munich. Germany games regularly kicked off in the wee hours of the morning on the west coast. This put him in the company of anonymous and enthusiastic die-hards of the club. He easily kept to himself. After the games, he quickly paid and left.

Women often caught his eye at the bars, but he never made any overtures in their direction. "Inexperienced" did not begin to describe his dating history. He had no concept of hitting on women and also carried a debilitating secret.

Leslie was a result of his first foray into internet dating. She seemed like the kind of girl he liked—fun, outgoing, looking for a good time. The goal was someone who could coax him out of the house once and a while.

They started out messaging and went on their first date a week later. She was rather shallow, with no discernible ambitions—partying and "enjoying life." On their second date, she mentioned that she was into true crime, which did make Davis nervous. On the third date, they slept together.

This was his first sexual experience. He let her take the lead, which she was happy to do. Fortunately, he was able to bounce back from his premature orgasm during foreplay. Unfortunately, the intercourse was still not very good for either party. He wanted to apologize and explain that she had taken his virginity but was too mortified to speak. That, and it didn't take long for her to start a conversation.

They lay in bed naked and staring at the ceiling. They were only slightly out of breath. Leslie then started talking. This managed to make him even more uncomfortable. He had thought that feat would've been impossible.

"Davis is not a very common first name. Did you know that?"

"Yeah. I've never met anyone with that name before."

"Did you say you were from Seattle?"

Davis turned his head and shot Leslie a look. He saw her breasts rise and fall more rapidly as her breathing picked up in anticipation. He started getting nervous.

"Yeah," he replied, while his mind was racing. "I moved down here a couple months ago."

She rolled over and looked at him. He responded by sitting up on his elbows, scanning the room for his clothes.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, continuing his search.

"It shouldn't come as a shock that I Googled you," she said. "And, well, you exist nowhere online."

Davis got up and started getting dressed.

"I know. I changed my name w-w-when I was 18 and..." he stuttered, "and, I, I'm, I write under a pen name. So..."

"But you kept 'Davis'?" She asked, interrupting him.

He was now starting to get irritated to go with his nerves. As he put his t-shirt back on, he got defensive.

"Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?" he blurted out. "Why don't you try asking me a question you don't already know the answer to?"

"Hey, I get it," she responded, putting her hands up as if to say, 'no offense.' The sheet fell off her body, but she didn't flinch. She was not known for her modesty. "I know why you wouldn't say anything, but it's cool. You were a kid. I don't hold it against you."

The look in Leslie's eyes scared Davis. She was excited. He hadn't considered how he would share his past with a woman, but he knew she shouldn't be excited about it. He finished dressing and took a moment to decide his next move.

Seizing the pause, Leslie tried to convince him to stay.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you acting this way? I just want to know about you. I've never met someone who's killed someone before. I'm not going to ask you any creepy questions, but..."

He put up his hand to cut her off. He had no intention of continuing the conversation. He also could not stand to listen to her talk about this one more second.

She tried to talk again, but he turned to leave and paid no attention to anything else she had to say. Her voice filled the background like white noise as he exited her apartment.

Leslie would text him several times over the next few days, but he did not respond. Instead, after the third day, he threw the phone away and bought a new one. He was uncomfortable with someone knowing his past. He couldn't disassociate 'Davis Archer' with the crimes of 'T. Davis Collins,' at least with one person now. What hehe could do was drop off her radar.

Davis changed his approach to women with each new relationship. He was self-conscious about his sexual inexperience so he tried one-night stands. The encounters were one-sided. He got experience and did not have to get into the details of his history. It was a different story for the women. He was leaving unsatisfied women in his wake, but less so with each new encounter.

When he became sexually competent, he found a consistent partner. The arrangement was casual, lasting a few weeks and a handful of hook-ups. She was busy with work and not interested in a serious relationship. His guilt of not sharing more of his personal history weighed on him. He ended it, telling her he'd met someone he'd like to get serious with. She was understanding and wished him well.

If only every relationship was that easy.

The timing proved to be fortuitous, as he connected with a woman on a dating website the next week. Learning from his experience with Leslie, he took it slow and, when they met for the first time, he told her right away.

"I would like to be honest with you before we go any further. There are some things about my past that you deserve to know," he started.

Karen listened patiently as he explained, in a straightforward manner, his past. He told her he was convicted of involuntary manslaughter at 13. He spent eight years in juvie, and was released when he was 21.

"Oh," she said when he completed. She took a deep, contemplative breath and processed the information for a few minutes. He distracted himself with a drinks menu. When she broke the silence, she offered simply, "that is a lot to take in and, uh, I'm glad you told me now."

He smiled and she reciprocated with a courtesy grin. He wasn't naive enough to think it was the end, though he was encouraged by her reaction. The rest of the night was understandably understated. They parted with a perfunctory goodnight kiss.

That night, he felt it'd gone as well as could be expected. He followed up with a goodnight text to his date, "I had a good time tonight, it was nice to finally meet you. Thank you for your understanding. Good night. XO"

She never responded.

As the days of silence went on, he was not surprised, so he made no effort to re-engage contact. It turned out that the hint of hope she offered hurt more than the off-putting situation with Leslie. While this approach was fair and, relatively speaking, good for the woman, it hurt him pretty bad.

After experiencing the full gamut of emotions, Davis had developed a detached stoicism. Not much could get him excited, which he would admit fucking sucked. He feared he'd start growing cynical. Each opportunity for disappointment was met with limited expectations. No highs, but no lows.

When his book was accepted for publishing, he initially rejected the hope it offered. It was only when he received a printed copy from his publisher that the achievement sunk in. That night he cried for the first time in over six years. The tears represented the option of hope. There was reason to be optimistic. He could find happiness. With the growing optimism came despair at the isolation of having no one to share this with.

He sought help for managing his emotions with a counselor at the detention center. Over time, he accepted that he needed to open himself to feelings, both the good and the bad. He approached opportunities skeptically and set reasonable expectations.

In this case, Karen didn't leave. That's a plus.

He told her his darkest secret and she stayed. That is a reason to be optimistic, right? That said, the quickly cut ties crushed any shred of hope he felt. He overthought the situation and let his imagination run wild.

"Was she scared of me?"

"Did she think I would hurt her if she left?"

The pain, though welcome in a perverse sense of any feeling is a good thing, still hurt. That was when he decided to share this information before he met a woman in person for the first time.

When Davis connected to Lucy, he was resolute in this plan. That also led to excuses to put this off the inevitable. In the end, it didn't matter.