Letter 3

Dear Jesse,

I remember the first time it confronted me.

I had been back in PA the year after your death, filming interviews for the Dear Jesse My Brother Documentary. As I stood in the middle of your motel room my eyes were pulled to the window. It was old, most probably original to the motel build, and two side-by-side window panes.

I started to feel a sinking feeling as I stood there.

I walked towards the window and upon closer inspection I saw that it wasn’t stationary — it actually was a sliding window. On one of the corners was a basic locking mechanism, similar concept to a hook and eye, with the bottom of the window sitting waist level.

As I stood there, I noticed something I didn’t want to. The ease at which a person could have just slid that window open and stepped out onto the ground and left without it being known… made me shudder.

“Wait, was this window locked the morning Aimee found you?”

And as if I was walking myself back off of a steep mental ledge, I stepped away from the window reassuring myself, “no…he killed himself, Jen…”

This confrontation was enough to threaten a complete fracture in what Aimee, dad and I were told. There were major events, as well as certain questionable people, around you at the time of your death. Some known, and some only known by Aimee because you told her.

Quickly pushing the alternate reality away, I gathered myself and left to the next interview, but the confronting question would resurface several times over the next decade.