I never spoke to my son again.  My wife and I had called the police telling them that our son, Jack,  was nowhere to be found.  Well, I just found my son and he was not in good condition.  He was lying on the ground,  immobile and not responding to me.  It looked to me as if he had been there for two days straight.  Jack was dead, and I had just  found him in the basement of our house, in the closet next to our wine cellar.
I was in shock.  I fell on the floor, and kneeled beside Jack.  I shook him crazily trying to get him to move or wake up.  I didn’t know what do.  I screamed at him, hoping for the slightest chance that he might respond.  He never did respond.
In so much shock and grief, I stumbled up the stairs making my way to the phone.  I dialed 911 and told them I had found my son dead.  I could hardly hold the phone my hands were shaking so bad, being in so much distress.  The street, which had been calm, was now lit up like a firework show.  The police walked up to our door and started searching the house.  I sat down with my wife on the couch and just cried.  My daughter, Ellen, woken up by all the sirens and commotions sat with us also.  She seemed to be okay which I did not understand.  Her brother had just been killed.  Ellen is thirteen so I just assumed that she was holding back the tears.  She loved Jack since the day he was born though.
The police searched the house trying uncover any evidence.  I just hoped that they would find something.
The next day, after I had gotten myself together a little bit sat down with the investigator for individual interviews.
“Hello, my name is Diane Butler, and I will be the lead investigator for this case.  “I know this may be a difficult time, but the sooner I can ask you questions the better because everything will still be fresh in your mind's.”  She then said, “Was there anyone who would have been in the house these past couple of days, maybe like a nanny or babysitter?”
I responded, “No, Jack’s birthday was four days ago, and we wanted to celebrate it as a family.  Since that we’ve just enjoyed watching him play with his new toys.  I don’t know how something like this could have happened.  I installed a security system this past month for our house.  I don’t know how someone could have broken in.
“I’m not saying that anyone broken in Mr. Cline.  I’m asking you who’s been in the house and clearly it’s only been you, your wife, and Ellen.”
I slammed the table shouting, “I did not kill my son!  No one in my family killed my son!  If you think someone in my family killed Jack, you can leave right now because you’re wasting your time.”
“I think this is enough interviewing today Mr. Cline.  I’ll talk to you if I find any other information.”
For the rest of the day, the police were in and out, up and down, thoroughly scouring the house for more evidence.  I sat in the living room, watching them as they walked by thinking about who Jack could have died.
So for the next couple of days, I received no contact from Ms. Butler.  During one of the days my family went to the funeral for my son.  Both my wife’s family and also my family are small so there were only a few people at the funeral.  It mainly consisted of tears and, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
After that life carried on, and eventually I got a call from the police. 
Ms. Butler said, “Hello Mr. Cline.  I have some bad news.  As lead investigator of this case, I have to tell you that we can’t find any evidence for the murder of Jack.  I think it would be best if we could have your family come down to the station so I can reinterview.”
“Ms. Butler, I think my family just needs a break from this whole ordeal.  I’m planning a family vacation just to get away.  You can talk to us when we get back.”
“Sir you are not allowed to leave.  You and your wife as well as Ellen are all still suspects in this case.”
My family and I ended up staying town, but I discontinued contact with the police.  The police had no evidence connecting my family to the murder of my son, and I did not want to continue talking to them.  The police never did find out who killed my son, but I knew who it was.
It was the fifth year anniversary of Jack’s death.  My family and I all sat down to watch old videos of Jack on the T.V.  After going through multiple clips, I for the first time saw Ellen cry.  She got up and ran.  I ran after her thinking she was just upset about Jack’s death, and I was going to comfort her.
“Ellen, what’s wrong?  Are you okay?” I asked in a calming voice.
“Dad” she said with tears running down her face “I did it, I killed Jack.  I was jealous of him.  You, Mom, both loved him more than me.  I became unimportant to the family when he was born.
I immediately dropped to the floor in tears.  I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t know what to say.  So I never did say anything.  I did not want to hurt Ellen or get her in trouble so I kept everything, even though it really hurt me to do this, kept it all a secret.  I never even told my wife.