My brother was wrongfully accused of attempting to murder me at the age of five.
I publicly state in writing that this was not the case.
Rather, it was an unintentional botched suicide.
The kind of unwitting act that young children perform everyday by sticking their fingers too close to an electrical outlet or running for a ball in the middle of the street.
I wanted to grab a giant, golden, crunchy maple leaf that was floating in a fountain.
My brother and I leaned against the edge watching it circle endlessly.
I lunged for it and fell in.
I regained consciousness in the back of our station wagon.
I was wrapped in a warm blanket whilst my brother was coldly convicted.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there are times my brother would’ve loved to kill me.
But I tell you now, I was not pushed.
I’m sure that helps 22 years later, Edward.