I was no longer living in a world where some of us were entitled to wag a finger of judgment. When I was done I logged out of the account, deleted the hacker program and decided to pretend like it had never happened.
She had a lot of opinions on how other people should raise their children and had been outraged when our church opened a daycare center.
It was a symptom of feminism and put everyone in jeopardy by enabling women to go back to work.
Instead, I downloaded a hacker program that secretly logged all encrypted keystrokes on our family computer. “Gay” was an insult people hurled in the hallways of my middle school — I didn’t realize there were actually men who liked having sex with other men, and I’d never have imagined my father was one of them.
By the end of the week I’d gathered the passwords for everyone’s email accounts, including several with names like “Porndog” and “Horny69.” With an eye on the door, I logged in. I couldn’t reconcile this information with what I believed to be true about my family.
We had the big house in the country, five happy kids, and an American flag flying on the front porch.
Mom had graduated with a degree in home economics and thought it was cruel when other families allowed their kids to eat dinner in front of the TV.
My brothers started recording as soon as they hit the parking lot.
The video camera focused on Dad’s car in the distance.
In the Christian parenting books my dad wrote, we were always the most perfect devout family.
When I found out he was secretly trolling for gay sex online, I became obsessed with unmasking the truth.
I don’t remember these touching moments, nor do I recall any of the stories about him tossing a football with my brothers in the front yard.