One day, Reginald's mum went to meet friends and didn't come home...
Getting home from school, I walked into the kitchen to see my mum getting out the flour and eggs.
‘Can I help you make a cake, Mum?’ I smiled.
‘Of course,’ she replied.
I was six years old and some of my favourite afternoons were spent helping my mum Selonia, 26, bake.
While they were in the oven,
I loved the delicious smells that would waft from the kitchen. My favourite was pound cake.
She gently guided me and when it was done, we took a slice to my dad who was sitting in the living room.
‘How’s the cake, Little Reggie?’ Mum asked, using her nickname for me.
I had been named Reginald after Dad.
‘It’s so yummy!’ I exclaimed, making her chuckle.
Mum worked in a bank, and on one of her days off, she decided to go and see some friends.
‘Bye, love you,’ she said, as she gave me a kiss and left.
‘Let’s play some video games,’ Dad smiled.
He was a busy man running local businesses, so any time spent together was precious.
We were having a blast as the hours ticked by and it became dark outside. And soon, we dozed off on the sofa.
When I woke up, it was morning and I heard voices talking in the kitchen.
Walking in, I found Dad was surrounded by members of
our family. They all looked really worried.
‘Where on earth could she be?’ one asked.
That’s when it hit me that Mum wasn’t home. Realising they must be talking about her, I started to cry.
Dad rushed over.
‘It’s OK, son,’
he said, pulling
me into a hug.
The next day passed, and the next, and Mum was still nowhere to be seen.
I missed her so much.
When two weeks had gone by, I knew in my gut she was never coming back.
Then, a police officer knocked on our door and asked us to come to the station.
Dad sat in the interview room with me.
‘Who currently lives at your house?’ the officer asked me.
‘Me, my dad, my dog Duke and…’ I began.
Because Mum wasn’t technically at home, I looked at Dad for guidance.
‘Your mum is still there,’ he said. ‘She’s with us in-Spirit.’
It was confusing.
The police didn’t visit again.
Years went by, and Dad rarely mentioned Mum.
Worried about upsetting him,
I didn’t want to ask what had happened to her.
Growing up without her, I always felt there was a piece of me missing.
I often felt jealous when I saw friends getting picked up from school by their mums.
Dad was an ex-Marine, and was strict. During school holidays, he would make me read books and write essays
on them.
But he was all I had, so he was the one I went to for guidance.
We bonded through sports, as he coached the teams I was in.
As time went on, he had occasional girlfriends, but he
didn’t remarry.
As a teenager, I started hearing rumours that Mum had been killed. So one evening, I decided to ask Dad.
‘Don’t worry, they caught the man who did it,’ he said.
'Where on earth could she be?'
I was shocked. It was the first time he’d confirmed that Mum was dead.
He hinted she’d died in a car accident, but then he clammed up, so I had to drop it.
When I was 15, curiosity got the better of me.
I went to the local library and typed my mum’s name into an online database of newspaper articles. There was a hit.
As I began reading, I was horrified.
Mum hadn’t died in a car accident after all. She’d been brutally murdered.
Her body had been found in the passenger seat of her car covered in a white lotion, with an umbrella between her legs.
Whoever had killed her, had used it to sexually assault her.
There were dozens of stab wounds and blunt force trauma to her face.
It was so strange to read all the graphic details. I couldn’t believe it was about my sweet, innocent mother.
The article mentioned her killer hadn’t been caught and it had become a cold case.
Dad lied to me, I realised.
But I didn’t want to upset him, so I never mentioned what I’d discovered and I tried to put it to the back of my mind.
Eventually, I moved out.
One evening years later, when I was 31, there was a knock at my door.
Opening it, I was shocked to see a police officer.
‘Hello, Mr Reed?’ he said. ‘I’m here to talk about your mother’s murder.’
‘Wait, what? That was more than 25 years ago,’ I replied.
‘I need you to come to the station for questioning,’ he said.
‘Do you have any new leads?’
I asked.
He showed me the papers in his hand.
‘This is a life insurance policy on your mother, that was taken out two weeks before her death,’ he said.
I couldn’t deny that it was suspicious, so I agreed to go to the station.
‘We have a strong suspicion that your father was involved in your mother’s murder,’ the officer said.
It was shocking to hear, and I didn’t believe it.
‘Where’s the evidence?’
I asked angrily.
‘We’re building a case,’ he replied.
When I returned home, my mind was racing.
Surely Dad’s not capable of murder? I wondered.
I was left with more questions than answers.
However, seven years went by without hearing from the police again.
I assumed the case had gone cold again.
But then a different officer rang me out of the blue, and what he said shook me to my very core.
‘Your father has been charged with second-degree murder and conspiracy of murdering your mother,’ he said.
‘A man called Jimmy Ray Barnes has also been charged as an accessory to murder,’ he added.
After we got off the phone, I thought my head would explode.
‘There’s no way Dad could have done it,’ I muttered.
I didn’t know who Jimmy was, but I assumed he was a friend
of my father’s.
Dad was being held in custody and I called to speak to him.
‘It’s all just a bunch of lies,’ he told me.
‘OK,’ I said, letting out a breath of relief.
He’d raised me single-handedly since I was six, and I knew he was a good man.
‘I’ll support you through all this,’ I told him.
Dad pleaded not guilty to the charges.
'It's all just a bunch of lies'
While he was in custody, I made sure my childhood home didn’t fall into disrepair. It meant a lot to me, because it was my last connection to Mum.
Dad was 59 and his health was declining. The thought of him being in a prison cell worried me.
A year later, I’d saved the minimum amount of bail money to get him out.
He was put on a tag, and moved back into my childhood home.
When I went to visit, we talked about anything but the trial. It was the elephant in the room.
However, one day, I plucked
up the courage to confront him once more.
‘Please, Dad, tell me the truth,’ I insisted. ‘Were you involved in Mum’s murder?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ he replied. ‘I’m innocent.’
I couldn’t imagine him being capable of it, so I believed him.
Four years later,
I brought Dad to court for the first
day of the trial.
It was strange seeing him in the dock while I sat in the public gallery.
Once he’s found not guilty, we can get on with the rest of our lives, I thought.
But as the trial went on, my belief in his innocence wavered.
The jury were told that Jimmy’s DNA had been found on a cigarette left in Mum’s car.
There were also eyewitnesses who had seen Dad and Jimmy together in the hours before her death. One theory was that Dad had hired him to commit the murder.
Because there was no blood spatter in the car, it was believed she was killed somewhere else.
I realised that Dad could have gone out while I was asleep that night.
By the last day of the trial, I was sure that Dad had orchestrated Mum’s murder.
The jury agreed, and my father, Reginald Reed, 63, was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison.
It felt as if my world had imploded.
To think he could have killed Mum and then acted like the grieving widower, was just devastating.
Jimmy Ray Barnes pleaded guilty and was sentenced to five years in jail.
Afterwards, my auntie told me Dad had loved the film Jagged Edge about a man who brutally murdered his wife for her money.
It got me thinking about Mum’s life insurance policy. Had the film inspired Dad to kill her? Now, I might never know the truth, because he still protests his innocence.
But he’s still my dad and I can’t cut him out of my life. I visit him in jail, and I now have a son, four, and a six-month-old daughter who I take to see him.
Thankfully, my wife is supportive of them getting to know their grandad. We avoid talking about Mum when I visit him.
Despite what Dad has done, he’s the man who raised me and I’ll always care about him.
It’s a daily battle of emotions, because I know he took Mum away from me. But I can’t turn off my love and care for him.
It took 35 years to get justice.
Although I don’t have many memories of Mum, family members have told me she completely doted on me.
They said I was a mummy’s boy and I’d follow her around everywhere. It makes me smile to think of how close we must have been. Even today, I credit her incredible cakes as the reason I have a sweet tooth.
I wish she could see the man I’ve become. But I know she would be proud of me.
Reginald L Reed Jr, 43