I wrote Admit Purpose because people had already decided what happened. Some called it fraud. Some called it persecution. Some called it family. Some called it the necessary correction of an institution that had learned to confuse its founder with its mission.
I wanted the account in my own words. This desire was not evidence that the account belonged only to me.
Some stories changed while I wrote them. People I called enemies returned as people.
The publisher placed the words A Novel beneath the title. I said every event was true in purpose. He said that was why the words should remain.
The name I kept
Leah asked me not to use Daniel’s name. I broke that promise at the final gathering. I kept his first name in the book and accepted changes to the identifying details. I called this a compromise. I did not ask Leah what she called it.
A confession should not be measured only by what it admits. It should also be measured by the permission it still assumes.