I stumbled upon it during my after-session evening jog on the rail trail. The same jog I did once a week while my wife was working at the restaurant and my twelve-year-old son was at his grandmother’s house.

Tape One – For Jeff

Footage of me in our bedroom, plowing my fling Sadie from behind.

How was that possible? There was nobody in the room with us. I didn’t dare suspect my wife or son; they were not even home.

No suspicious looks from my wife when she returned from her shift late that evening. Our son in his usual good spirits the following morning when we picked him up. My routine continued.

Another jog.

Tape Two – For Jeff

The camera enters an apartment: Sadie’s place. The camera is placed on the dining room table. A figure comes into view. It’s my wife. Sadie enters the room, and her voice is muted when my wife knocks a pipe against her skull. My wife takes the landline phone cord and wraps it around Sadie’s neck, squeezing until she is out.

I reported the incident to the authorities, and a search team was put into place to hunt down my wife. I frantically drove to the restaurant to see if she was foolish enough to report to work, but her boss says she never showed.

I brought my son back home from his grandma’s place and told him what happened. He was on edge. I tucked him into bed. When I entered my bedroom, I noticed a tape on the bed.

Tape Three – For Jeff

I went into the living room and popped it in.

The camera sits atop the dashboard of my wife’s car, facing the driver seat where my wife enters. After taking a seat, my son appears from behind and jabs her repeatedly in the neck with a pair of scissors.

I jumped to my feet and stormed into my son’s room. He was sitting in his bed, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Mom killed your lover, so I killed her. You made me do it. Why did you hurt Mom? Now I want to kill—”

My eyes bulged in disbelief as my son hopped up and hurled himself in the air towards me. I caught him as he swung the scissors wildly, looking for an easy place to poke me. I threw him to the ground and ran out of his room, slamming the door shut.

He never came out of his room, but I could hear him throwing a fit, screaming like a deranged baby. A man from our local precinct finally arrived and threw cuffs on my son.

My son was given a life sentence, and during the occasional visit I made to see how he was doing, he blamed me over and over for everything that transpired. I suppose there is some truth to his words, but I thought getting caught cheating would lead to a divorce, not two dead bodies.