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The following private journal entries were written by the late Kate Hurley, a thirty-seven-year-old, physically fit (played lots of tennis and was careful about her diet), moderately compulsive, third-grade elementary school teacher and doting mother of two boys, aged eleven and eight. Until her death during a horrific home invasion, she lived with her family at 1440 Bay View Drive in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina, across the harbor from Charleston. The house stands in a relatively secluded wooded section at the very end of the road. She was married to Robert Hurley, an aggressive personal-injury lawyer.

Saturday, March 28, 8:35 A.M.

It is a dreary, gray day as I look out the window of my hospital room in the Mason-Dixon Medical Center. Hardly the spring weather we all expect. I haven’t been good about writing in my journal over the last six months even though doing so has always been a great solace for me. Unfortunately I have been exhausted at night and much too busy getting the boys and myself ready for school in the morning, but I will make an effort to change. I could use the consolation. I am in the hospital, feeling sorry for myself after a dreadful night. It had started promisingly enough as Bob and I had met Ginny and Harold Lawler for dinner on Sullivan’s Island. They all had fish, and in retrospect, I wish I had done the same. Unfortunately I had chosen the duck, which was prepared on the rare side and which I would later learn from the emergency room physician probably had been contaminated, most likely with salmonella. I began to feel strange even before finishing the entrée, and it got progressively worse. While Bob was taking home the babysitter, I had my first episode of vomiting — not pleasant! I made a mess of myself and the bathroom.

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