I never imagined my first trip to Italy would be to bury my father.
But there I stood, in a beautiful cathedral, alone with my grief and my father’s casket, a handful of soldiers standing guard.
It never occurred to me that anyone, even our enemies, would disrupt the sanctity of the moment.
But the Caballero brothers have little regard for the church and even less for my family. They marched in weapons in hand and turned my world upside down.
They shattered what peace I had.
They desecrated my father’s body.
And they took what they wanted. What they felt they were owed. Me.
