It's such a beautiful picture.

Sean had beautiful eyes.

Above the fireplace in a modest house on a quiet street in Spokane, Washington,

was the picture of a little girl named Sean.

Not little anymore, of course.

But her sister Kathy looked at that picture every day.

I knew most of Sean's secrets.

She knew most of mine.

We were much more than sisters.

We were definitely best friends.

It's complicated what happens to people.

Sean seemed to pick the wrong men to marry,

and then alone again, poor a working single mother.

There was a misdiagnosis of a tendon injury

and two surgeries and pain killers to which she was soon addicted.

And then for whatever reason she got heavier into drugs,

and eventually lost the house,

started living with friends, relatives.

And the only thing that seemed to make her feel better was the heroin,

such a hard thing to stop and so expensive.

She was totally desperate.

She would do anything,

...