Going back to my lost children: I was reunited with them when they were older, and my Caucasian daughter now lives in Sarasota, Florida, with her husband. One son lived here in the US for ten years or so, but has now gone back to Adelaide, where he lives near his older brother, a home town boy who never could get his mind around the US, and who, consequently, I see very rarely.
When I first came to the US, I cried for my children every night. After two years of this, my husband said, “Stop it! Stop!” So I stopped. Since then, everything I have done, every book I have written, has been a sort of recompense. In 2006, I set out to write the story of an African American young man, one of the innocents on Death Row in Raleigh. His name at the time was John Lee Conaway but is now John Lee Scott. He is the same age as my Australian sons and I have adopted him as my seventh child. His story opened my eyes to the plight of the poor black man entangled on our so-called justice system and we have been fighting for his freedom ever since.