The first tipoff was the time when Holt was 15 and her dad checked her out of school early one day. He hadn’t said one word to her the whole drive over to his church that afternoon. Once she saw the piece of folded notebook paper crammed inside his truck’s cup holder, she’d immediately known why her father seemed so angry. Her mother had apparently found the love note she’d written to her former BFF-turned-girlfriend. What happened next, she says, is mostly a blur.
“My mom didn’t want to see me for a while,” recalls Holt. “All I remember was my dad saying, ‘I can deal with this when it’s other people’s kids, but not when it’s my own child.’”
She does distinctly recall her mother alternating between bawling and yelling at her, interspersed with an occasional supportive statement like, “we’ll get through this.”
“At one point she told me you’re not going to Kennesaw [State University], you’re not going anywhere until we get this straightened out,” Holt remembered her mother saying. “I found that to be an interesting choice of words.”
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