December 22, 1974 by Anastasia Luttgens

Dear Readers,

I am writing a letter to you all so you know my story. I want you to know so you can protect yourself so it doesn't happen to you. You don't know who I am and that is probably for the best. I am not somebody that you want consider your friend. Now, let me tell you about what happened to me in my very house on December 22, `1974.

Mother, father, Julie, Jake, and I had all just finished supper. Our butler Romeo took our plates and headed towards the kitchen. Father told us to go upstairs and head straight to bed. The next day was supposed to be exciting. We were supposed to go to Disneyland. Mother and Father never let us do such things. This was a treat since we all had been so respectful for the past 11 years of our living. We had never gotten up in our parents personal business. My siblings and I brushed our teeth and got into our nightwear. Our parents walked to our overly large room.

"Goodnight, tomorrow is a big day. No goofing off, tomorrow you must listen to what your mother and I say just as if we were here, in this very house. Do you all understand me?"

"Yes father," my siblings all said as we nodded.

"Goodnight children," father said with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

"Goodnight mother, goodnight father," we said in sync.

I covered myself with the blanket and turned to my parents as my father was getting to close the door!

"KABOOM!" A big crash went right through the big glass window next to my sisters bed.

"Father, NO!" my siblings and I screamed, but not in sync.

My father had just been shot and we had no idea by who. My siblings and I have not talked since. Even for the 10 more years that we lived n that house, we did not speak to one another, ever. We were all thinking the same thing though, our mother knew who shot our father, she was always sneaking off with house workers with our fathers files. Our family files included our birth certificate, security card and more. Information about us that nobody else had known. Everything was in those files, which is why we wondered why our mother was always sneaking with our fathers. Sometimes, I would wonder if our mother was apart of my fathers death. It only took her a week to get over his death. When I talked about it to Lenna, my best friend she said that she was probably just acting strong for me and my siblings. I have always hoped that what Lenna told me was true.

Here is one piece of evidence that proves their is a chance my mother was a part of the murder. At supper, just and hour before his death she said that she had a feeling that none of us would be able to get any sleep, then she smiled. I thought she was saying as a joke because of our excitement but I began to thing that it wasn't a joke, it was a clue to my father's death.

My brother was the most emotional about the death. My father is the one who was teaching how to become a man. After the death, he did not have anybody to teach him to be a man. He was just left there to figure it out himself.

My sister died three years ago. She had a heart attack, she was in her house alone so nobody really knows the cause, but I thing it was from the uncertainty, the uncertainty of knowing whether or not our own mother killed out father.

I am going to be honest right now, I always thought that my mom was the nice one. I thought my father was mean, I did not appreciate him at all whatsoever. Now I realize that my mom is the selfish mean one and that my father was just another rich guy. I know the murder was never settled. But I saw my mother after his death, her fake grieving. She killed my father.

I was hardly even upset when she died a decade ago. I knew that she didn't care about my father from the second they got married. She just cared about his money. I'm going to lie, I did love my mother and I was upset when she died, but she wasn't a good person and she didn't deserve any better then what she got.

The only members left of my family are me and my brother, I heard that he was diagnosed with Cancer not even a year ago, I really hope he makes it. I know he will, he is a fighter. I want to go visit him, I know his address, he invited me to a 50 years old party for our sister, I drove to the house, and then I drove back home I couldn't do it. If I visited my brother he would be in shock. We haven't talked in 50 years. I really regret, neither of us did anything wrong we should have just talked to each other about our feeling and what we were thinking about because I know I was thinking about a lot and I am sure he was too. I am going to go visit my brother tomorrow.

My best friend Lenna moved 20 years ago, we still talk over our phones, but not much. It is July and the last time I talked to her was March. She has built quite the family. She has 7 kids and they all do different sports, luckily her parents, three sisters, and 2 brothers are always there with a helping hand.

Let's talk about my life, I am real estate agent. I had twins 40 years ago, a girl and a boy. My daughter now has 4 kids and a husband. She has a beautiful home in Orlando. My son moved out 15 years ago and has only visited twice. He is supposed to visit next week and so is my daughter. I guess my life is okay, but I still don't know who shot my father in the back.

From,

Anonymous