Once I knew that the children were together, safe and being looked after, I went in search of my wife and the man who had assisted her in destroying my family. Unfortunately for Smith the police officer who had stopped him for committing a relatively minor traffic violation had written his parents’ address on the summons. With every step I took towards their house, I grew increasingly angry. I was no longer wondering whether or not Smith had taken my wife; she had confirmed that when she ran away when I turned up in Burnley. I was now considering how I was going to kill him, having tried, convicted and sentenced him to death in his absence. The door of his parents’ home shook as I hammered my fist against it, but nobody answered. ‘Come out, you useless bastard!’ I shouted through the letterbox, but again there was no reply. I knocked on the neighbours’ doors, but they said they had no idea if he was home or not. As I was walking back towards Smith’s parents’ house, an elderly couple asked me what I wanted.
