My Dad Had Issues. And I Think He Was Murdered. Happy Father's Day?

Even as I write this, I am finding new pieces of the puzzle that was my dad and what he did. Can you help me put him together?

By Jane Pratt

If you hear that my barely-59-year-old dad died riding his bicycle on a country road in Virginia on a beautiful afternoon near the artist retreat he was attending, that might lead you to believe he was a humdinger of a guy. He was not.

I think he was murdered. And I think he had it coming.

By the time my dad was 25 years old, he had four kids. Left to right, little brother Ben, baby Amy, me and older brother Hill. We were at my grandmother's house in Virginia here, where I was forced to go and live by myself for those long months in third grade.