Good morning, today we start with some more from Bond of Secrecy
My Life with CIA Spy and Watergate Conspirator E. Howard Hunt
by Saint John Hunt.

..The loss brought about by my mothers’ death was almost unbearable. My father was being held in various jails, and at best we only spoke with him briefly over the phone. When we could, we visited him in jail. Without any experience in living on our own, Lisa, David and I did the best we could. One day, lawyers came to Witches Island and told us we would have to move out in 60 days. The house needed to be sold to pay attorney fees and we should start packing and looking for somewhere to live. If things weren’t bad enough already, my father had some kind of stroke after being attacked in a D.C. Jail.

We worried that he wouldn’t make it, and for a time he was put on suicide watch. Lisa and I packed up the house as best as we could; it was so hard to do, with so many memories of our mother and the life we had as a family that lay among the empty boxes and cartons that littered the loveless house. Lisa, fragile and waif-like, cried endlessly, and nothing I could say or do would console her. We tried to cheer each other up by talking about how we’d find a lovely small house. Lisa was adamant about living near a certain bridge in Kensington. She was vulnerable and unprotected, with nerves strung tightly by lack of sleep and too much worry.

We did our best to take care of little David, only nine years old, so young and so lost. I think he must have suffered more than any of us. With so much sadness around us, we became inseparable. Then one afternoon Lisa came home after house hunting, shouting with joy; “I found it, I found it, our perfect little home!” We danced and held each other shouting, “We found a home, we found a home!”

That joy was fleeting: attorneys came and took David away. The only explanation they gave was that they (my father) felt it would be a better environment for him if he moved in with his godparents in Miami. This would prove to be a huge mistake: Miami would soon be the cocaine capital of the world, and David was right smack in the middle of it. He would be raised with few good influences and no real love. Now living alone and feeling betrayed by everyone, Lisa and I stayed on in the house. We kept the lights low at night, and sat up late talking and crying, holding on to nothing but each other and the darkness that enveloped Witches Island.
https://exploringrealhistory.blogspot.com/2022/08/part-2-bond-of-secrecy-my-life-with-cia.html