It's generally accepted wisdom among those who toil for justice, who give up nights and

weekends and children's birthday parties in service of the dead, that sometimes what

a stall case needs most is a set of fresh eyes, eyes that may see what others missed.

A service the airlicks father and son felt morally compelled to provide, as Clint put

it. It was painful to see a man whom I knew was innocent, whom I knew had served our

country, locked in a cage like an animal. But it is equally true that people don't generally

like to be told when they're wrong. So when a tough case is finally all done and dusted

and the guilty party has been tried and convicted and sent away, fresh eyes are not always so

welcome, no matter how bright or perceptive, especially to those like the O'Keefs, for

whom that long sought conviction was as important as breathing, given the horrors that had

descended upon them, beginning with that awful moment in Michelle's blue Mustang all those

years ago. But the desert winds blew as ever, year after year, and the seasons came and

went, and new families grew up around them, and Mike and Pat O'Keefs did what they had

to do to put some kind of life back together. Not easy, as Pat told me, not easy at all.

But you make accommodations to this sort of continuing pain that you feel, that you just

have to find a place for it and live with it. I think you kind of work through it, you

don't really close the book, like people say, oh, you'd be so happy when everything's

all done, Michelle will still be gone, and we'll still miss her, but we learn to get through

each day.

Best to look out for it now, said Mike. Based on what we've learned, if we can go help

others who've gone through, have ever been similar tragedies. I think that's probably

a big part of our mission in life from here on.

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