You Can't. Even. Imagine.

There are a lot of things I like about being a legal reporter: the challenge, the drama, the realness of it all. Sometimes, though, the realness and the drama ARE the challenge for me. Once in awhile, I get a case that just gets you where you breathe. This week, one of those went to trial.

Sitting through a murder child for a 6-month-old baby can be hard for ANYBODY. But I can't help thinking of the boys, especially Riley - who was about the same age as little Sean when he died. I don't know if Sean was murdered or if he died of natural causes. Even after the jury returns with its verdict, I feel we may never really know what happened to him.

But it doesn't matter.

All that matters is there was a little boy with rosy red lips and sweet cherub cheeks, who sang "la-la-la" while playing and whose mother called him "Little Man" and who no longer exists. It seems unfathomable. And so wholly tragic.

Sitting in court, holding back tears, my mind kept returning to Riley. So full of laughter and life. His rosy red lips and sweet cherub cheeks so warm and soft. I just wanted the day to end so I could get to daycare and kiss and hug my own Little Man.



The trial is expected to end Tuesday or Wednesday. It's going to be a tough few days.