She didn’t mean to fall asleep. She meant to drive home, to catch her parents before they went to bed and tell them the exciting news. They’d proven—something. She still wasn’t clear on the full scope

“I was right around here somewhere,” said Lindy Ray, walking tight circles on the forest floor and brushing leaves away with her sneakers. Her dad and Treva Breedlove both squatted down to help her look.

Lindy Ray Tate had often been warned by her father not to fall asleep in a field of kudzu. Why anyone would do such a thing, Lindy couldn’t fathom, but Roger Tate's adamancy on the matter led her to believe