For nine summers<\/strong>, my parents packed my suitcase and sent me away while they took my brother on the family vacations I was never allowed to join.<\/p>\n At first, I thought it was temporary.<\/p>\n When I was seven, Mom said I was \u201ctoo sensitive\u201d for a long road trip.<\/p>\n At eight, Dad said the hotel room was too small.<\/p>\n At nine, they told me I would have more fun staying with Aunt Carol.<\/p>\n By ten, I stopped believing the excuses.<\/p>\n Every June, the routine was the same.<\/p>\n Mom packed my clothes into a blue duffel bag.<\/p>\n Dad drove me forty minutes to my aunt\u2019s house.<\/p>\n My older brother, Ryan, waved from the back seat beside suitcases covered in airline tags.<\/p>\n Then they disappeared for two weeks.<\/p>\n Florida.<\/p>\n California.<\/p>\n Yellowstone.<\/p>\n New York.<\/p>\n Hawaii.<\/p>\n They always returned with souvenirs for me.<\/p>\n A T-shirt.<\/p>\n A snow globe.<\/p>\n Once, a stuffed dolphin.<\/p>\n As if gifts could replace memories.<\/p>\n When I was twelve, I found the album.<\/p>\n It was hidden in the bottom cabinet of my mother\u2019s office behind tax files.<\/p>\n Thirty-six photographs.<\/p>\n I counted them.<\/p>\n Mom laughing beside the ocean.<\/p>\n Dad holding Ryan on his shoulders at Disney World.<\/p>\n Birthday dinners I had never attended.<\/p>\n Christmas photos at a ski resort.<\/p>\n Ryan blowing out candles beside cousins I hadn\u2019t even known were invited.<\/p>\n There wasn\u2019t one picture of me.<\/p>\n Not one.<\/p>\n That was the day I stopped asking why they never chose me.<\/p>\n I became easy.<\/p>\n Quiet.<\/p>\n Independent.<\/p>\n Exactly the kind of daughter they claimed they wanted.<\/p>\n At eighteen, I graduated near the top of my class.<\/p>\n My parents barely made the ceremony because Ryan had a baseball tournament.<\/p>\n That night, Dad asked what time I planned to start working at his friend\u2019s insurance office.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n Mom frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m moving.\u201d<\/p>\n They laughed.<\/p>\n Actually laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cTo where?\u201d Ryan asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSeattle.\u201d<\/p>\n Dad leaned back in his chair.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve never even been west of Missouri.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have no family there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n Mom smiled like I was a child announcing I was running away.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll be back by Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n I packed everything I owned into my twelve-year-old Honda and left two days later.<\/p>\n Nobody tried to stop me.<\/p>\n For the first few years, they barely called.<\/p>\n I worked mornings at a coffee shop and nights at a local television station filing archived footage.<\/p>\n Then I became a production assistant.<\/p>\n Then a field researcher.<\/p>\n Then a reporter.<\/p>\n I learned to stand in freezing rain while talking into a camera.<\/p>\n I learned to interview grieving families without turning their pain into spectacle.<\/p>\n I learned to ask questions powerful people didn\u2019t want answered.<\/p>\n My parents knew almost none of it.<\/p>\n When I sent Mom a link to my first major segment, she replied:<\/p>\n Nice. Ryan just got promoted too.<\/strong><\/p>\n Eventually, I stopped sending links.<\/p>\n Seven years after I left, my parents were sitting in their living room when the local evening broadcast suddenly cut to breaking national coverage.<\/p>\n A major passenger train had derailed outside Portland.<\/p>\n Dozens injured.<\/p>\n Emergency crews everywhere.<\/p>\n Then the network anchor said:<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re going live now to our senior correspondent on the scene.\u201d<\/p>\n The screen changed.<\/p>\n I appeared wearing a rain jacket, microphone in hand, emergency lights flashing behind me.<\/p>\n My name stretched across the bottom of millions of television screens:<\/p>\n EMILY CARTER \u2014 NATIONAL CORRESPONDENT<\/strong><\/p>\n My mother dropped the remote.<\/p>\n Dad leaned forward.<\/p>\n Ryan whispered:<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s Emily.\u201d<\/p>\n And for the first time in their lives, my parents had to watch the daughter they erased from every family photograph become impossible to ignore.<\/p>\n My phone started ringing before the broadcast was over.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n I was standing forty yards from twisted rail cars while producers shouted updates through my earpiece.<\/p>\n There were people still trapped.<\/p>\n Families waiting for names.<\/p>\n This was not the moment to deal with mine.<\/p>\n Three hours later, after the live coverage ended, I finally checked my phone.<\/p>\n Twenty-seven missed calls.<\/p>\n Mom.<\/p>\n Dad.<\/p>\n Ryan.<\/p>\n Then messages.<\/p>\n Why didn\u2019t you tell us you were on national television?<\/strong><\/p>\n We\u2019re so proud of you.<\/strong><\/p>\n Call your mother.<\/strong><\/p>\n That last one almost made me laugh.<\/p>\n They had known where I lived for seven years.<\/p>\n They had my number.<\/p>\n They simply hadn\u2019t needed me until other people could see me.<\/p>\n I called Aunt Carol instead.<\/p>\n She answered crying.<\/p>\n \u201cI saw you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m wonderful. You looked exhausted.\u201d<\/p>\n That was Aunt Carol.<\/p>\n No bragging.<\/p>\n No questions about salary.<\/p>\n She wanted to know whether I had eaten.<\/p>\n Then she said something that changed the story.<\/p>\n \u201cYour mother called me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI assumed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe asked if I knew you were doing this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoing what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTelevision.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been a reporter for years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n Then Aunt Carol went quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s something I should have told you a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n Those nine summers hadn\u2019t happened because my parents couldn\u2019t afford another plane ticket.<\/p>\n They hadn\u2019t happened because I was difficult.<\/p>\n Or sensitive.<\/p>\n Or inconvenient.<\/p>\n My parents had deliberately sent me away because Ryan refused to travel with me.<\/p>\n I stared at the hotel wall.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n Aunt Carol explained that when Ryan was eleven, he told Mom and Dad he hated sharing attention with me.<\/p>\n He complained that I ruined vacations.<\/p>\n Cried too much.<\/p>\n Asked too many questions.<\/p>\n Made everything \u201cless fun.\u201d<\/p>\n He threatened to stay home if I came.<\/p>\n My parents chose him.<\/p>\n Once.<\/p>\n Then again.<\/p>\n Then it became tradition.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did they tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n Aunt Carol sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cThat they needed one-on-one time with Ryan because he was struggling.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor nine years?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI argued with them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause you were a child. I thought protecting you meant not letting you know how deliberate it was.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat down.<\/p>\n That hurt differently.<\/p>\n I had spent years wondering what defect made my parents leave me behind.<\/p>\n Now I knew.<\/p>\n There was no defect.<\/p>\n They simply found it easier to remove the child who complained less.<\/p>\n Then Aunt Carol added:<\/p>\n \u201cThe album wasn\u2019t hidden from you.\u201d<\/p>\n I went still.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour mother showed it to people all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n My throat tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cShe only hid it after you found it.\u201d<\/p>\n Apparently, those thirty-six photographs had once sat proudly on the living-room shelf.<\/p>\n After I discovered them and asked why I wasn\u2019t in any picture, Mom moved the album into the cabinet.<\/p>\n Not because she was ashamed of excluding me.<\/p>\n Because she didn\u2019t want me asking again.<\/p>\n The next morning, my mother finally reached me.<\/p>\n Her first words were:<\/p>\n \u201cYou made us look terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared out the hotel window.<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t said anything about you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone is asking why we never mentioned our daughter works for a national network.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds like your problem.\u201d<\/p>\n She inhaled sharply.<\/p>\n \u201cEmily.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. You don\u2019t get to suddenly be proud because strangers recognize me.\u201d<\/p>\n Dad joined the call.<\/p>\n \u201cWe made mistakes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNine summers is not a mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n Ryan\u2019s voice came from somewhere behind them.<\/p>\n \u201cCan we stop being dramatic?\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed.<\/p>\n There it was.<\/p>\n Same family.<\/p>\n Same hierarchy.<\/p>\n Then Dad said:<\/p>\n \u201cWe want to come see you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy now?\u201d<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n I already knew.<\/p>\n Because the network had announced something else that morning.<\/p>\n The train coverage had earned the highest ratings of the year.<\/p>\n And I had been selected to anchor a new investigative series beginning the following month.<\/p>\n Mom finally said:<\/p>\n \u201cWe just think it\u2019s time the family came back together.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the television screen across my hotel room.<\/p>\n My face was on a promo.<\/p>\n Underneath it were the words:<\/p>\n FORGOTTEN AMERICA: WITH EMILY CARTER<\/strong><\/p>\n I thought of the album.<\/p>\n Thirty-six pictures.<\/p>\n Nine summers.<\/p>\n A daughter cropped out of her own family.<\/p>\n Then I said:<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n And hung up.<\/p>\n But two weeks later, a package arrived at my apartment.<\/p>\n No return address.<\/p>\n Inside was the old photo album.<\/p>\n And tucked behind the final page was a letter in my father\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n The first line said:<\/p>\n Emily, there is one photograph we never showed you, because it proves your mother and I lied about more than the vacations.<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at the letter for nearly a minute before reading further.<\/p>\n Then I pulled the final page of the album apart.<\/p>\n A photograph was tucked behind the cardboard backing.<\/p>\n It was old.<\/p>\n Faded.<\/p>\n I was maybe six.<\/p>\n Ryan was nine.<\/p>\n We were standing beside our parents outside a beach house.<\/p>\n All four of us.<\/p>\n Together.<\/p>\n On vacation.<\/p>\n I turned the photograph over.<\/p>\n Summer 2008.<\/p>\n The year before the nine summers began.<\/p>\n Then I read Dad\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n He admitted something Aunt Carol hadn\u2019t known.<\/p>\n Ryan\u2019s complaints were only part of the reason they started excluding me.<\/p>\n The deeper reason was money.<\/p>\n When I was six, my maternal grandfather died.<\/p>\n He left an education trust for both grandchildren.<\/p>\n Equal shares.<\/p>\n At least, that was what everyone told me.<\/p>\n But the trust had a strange condition.<\/p>\n Annual family distributions for travel and enrichment were tied to documented expenses for each child.<\/p>\n If the family took both grandchildren on educational or cultural trips, both accounts could reimburse part of the costs.<\/p>\n If only one child traveled, only that child\u2019s share could be used.<\/p>\n The first year, my parents used both accounts correctly.<\/p>\n Then Dad\u2019s business began struggling.<\/p>\n Mortgage payments fell behind.<\/p>\n Credit-card debt grew.<\/p>\n My parents discovered that Ryan\u2019s trust reimbursements were easier to access because he was older and already enrolled in approved activities.<\/p>\n Mine required additional trustee documentation.<\/p>\n So they stopped taking me.<\/p>\n They used Ryan\u2019s eligible travel reimbursements to offset vacations they could no longer afford.<\/p>\n Then they used the money they \u201csaved\u201d by leaving me with Aunt Carol to cover other family expenses.<\/p>\n At first, Dad wrote, they told themselves it would last one summer.<\/p>\n Then two.<\/p>\n Then Ryan started demanding that I stay behind.<\/p>\n And the financial convenience became emotional preference.<\/p>\n That was the part that disgusted me most.<\/p>\n They had found a system where excluding me made Ryan happier and made their finances easier.<\/p>\n So they kept doing it.<\/p>\n Dad\u2019s letter said:<\/p>\n We let practicality become cruelty. Then we lied because admitting the truth would have required us to stop.<\/strong><\/p>\n I sat there holding the photograph.<\/p>\n For years, I thought the thirty-six pictures proved I had never belonged.<\/p>\n Now I understood something worse.<\/p>\n I had belonged.<\/p>\n They had deliberately removed me.<\/p>\n There was a difference.<\/p>\n Dad continued.<\/p>\n When I turned sixteen, the trustee managing my grandfather\u2019s education fund questioned why there were almost no travel or enrichment claims associated with me.<\/p>\n Mom told him I preferred staying home.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n At eighteen, when I moved to Seattle, my parents expected me to fail partly because there was still money in that trust.<\/p>\n They assumed I would come home and ask for it.<\/p>\n I never did.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t even know the account still existed.<\/p>\n I called my attorney.<\/p>\n Then the trust company.<\/p>\n The account was real.<\/p>\n After tuition assistance I never used, investment growth, and accumulated distributions, my share held approximately $186,000<\/strong>.<\/p>\n Not millions.<\/p>\n Not enough to magically change my life.<\/p>\n But enough to prove something important.<\/p>\n My parents had watched me work two jobs in Seattle while money intended for my education sat untouched.<\/p>\n They knew.<\/p>\n They never told me.<\/p>\n Why?<\/p>\n Dad answered that too.<\/p>\n Pride.<\/p>\n Control.<\/p>\n And fear that I would discover the old records showing exactly how differently Ryan and I had been treated.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t call home immediately.<\/p>\n I needed facts before emotion.<\/p>\n My attorney obtained the trust accounting.<\/p>\n No evidence showed my parents had stolen directly from my account.<\/p>\n That mattered.<\/p>\n They had abused the family reimbursement structure around Ryan\u2019s share and concealed mine from me, but the principal remained intact.<\/p>\n So there was no dramatic arrest.<\/p>\n No federal agents.<\/p>\n Just something quieter and, in some ways, sadder.<\/p>\n A complete record of parental favoritism written in receipts.<\/p>\n Disney.<\/p>\n Bahamas.<\/p>\n New York.<\/p>\n Aspen.<\/p>\n San Diego.<\/p>\n Thirty-six photographs matched almost perfectly to nine years of reimbursements.<\/p>\n I eventually called Dad.<\/p>\n Mom answered.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve been waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI spoke to the trust company.\u201d<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n Then Dad came on.<\/p>\n \u201cI assumed you would.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n He sounded older than I remembered.<\/p>\n \u201cWe were ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. You were afraid I would be angry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat isn\u2019t the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n Mom started crying in the background.<\/p>\n I asked one question.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you ever want me on those trips?\u201d<\/p>\n She answered immediately.<\/p>\n \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cThen why didn\u2019t you take me?\u201d<\/p>\n No answer came.<\/p>\n That was the truth.<\/p>\n Wanting me in theory had never outweighed choosing Ryan in practice.<\/p>\n I told them I needed distance.<\/p>\n Mom panicked.<\/p>\n \u201cEmily, we\u2019re trying to fix this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t fix nine summers.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe can make new memories.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want replacement memories.\u201d<\/p>\n That sentence surprised even me.<\/p>\n Because it was true.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t need them to recreate Disney World at thirty.<\/p>\n I needed them to acknowledge the twelve-year-old girl staring at thirty-six photographs and realizing she had been systematically excluded.<\/p>\n Dad eventually said:<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you need from us?\u201d<\/p>\n For the first time, I answered honestly.<\/p>\n \u201cStop asking me to make your guilt easier.\u201d<\/p>\n Then I hung up.<\/p>\n My investigative series premiered three weeks later.<\/p>\n Forgotten America<\/strong> focused on people overlooked by systems that were supposed to protect them.<\/p>\n Rural hospitals.<\/p>\n Children aging out of foster care.<\/p>\n Workers injured by companies that buried safety complaints.<\/p>\n I never made the series about my family.<\/p>\n But I understood why those stories mattered to me.<\/p>\n I knew what it felt like to be standing close enough to belong while everyone acted as if you were somewhere else.<\/p>\n The show succeeded.<\/p>\n Not instantly.<\/p>\n But steadily.<\/p>\n Within two years, our team won a major journalism award for an investigation into fraudulent nursing-home billing.<\/p>\n My parents watched the ceremony on television.<\/p>\n I know because Dad sent one message afterward:<\/p>\n You were extraordinary. No reply needed.<\/strong><\/p>\n That last sentence mattered.<\/p>\n He was learning.<\/p>\n Ryan took longer.<\/p>\n For years, I blamed him most.<\/p>\n He was the golden child.<\/p>\n The boy in every photograph.<\/p>\n The reason they said I couldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n Then he called me one evening.<\/p>\n \u201cI owe you something.\u201d<\/p>\n I almost hung up.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe truth.\u201d<\/p>\n He admitted that as a child he had enjoyed the vacations without me.<\/p>\n He liked being the center of attention.<\/p>\n He knew I cried when they left.<\/p>\n Sometimes he teased me about it afterward.<\/p>\n \u201cI was a kid,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I wasn\u2019t stupid. I knew it hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n I said nothing.<\/p>\n \u201cI kept doing it anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n That was the first honest apology anyone in the family gave me.<\/p>\n No excuses about finances.<\/p>\n No \u201cwe did our best.\u201d<\/p>\n Just responsibility.<\/p>\n Then he told me adulthood had changed the way he saw it.<\/p>\n After becoming a father himself, he watched his two daughters fight constantly but panic whenever one was excluded.<\/p>\n \u201cOne day Ava had a birthday invitation and Lily didn\u2019t,\u201d he said. \u201cLily cried for an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n His voice cracked.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd suddenly I remembered you standing in the driveway while we left for Hawaii.\u201d<\/p>\n I swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cI remember too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n I believed him.<\/p>\n Forgiveness came slowly after that.<\/p>\n Not restoration.<\/p>\n Not pretending we were close.<\/p>\n But communication.<\/p>\n A birthday text.<\/p>\n Then occasional calls.<\/p>\n Then coffee when work took me near his city.<\/p>\n My parents were harder.<\/p>\n Mom wanted emotional absolution immediately.<\/p>\n Dad accepted that he might never get it.<\/p>\n Oddly, that made rebuilding with him easier.<\/p>\n Three years after the breaking-news broadcast, I returned home for Aunt Carol\u2019s seventieth birthday.<\/p>\n It was my first visit since graduation.<\/p>\n Mom stood in the doorway when I arrived.<\/p>\n For a second, neither of us moved.<\/p>\n Then she said:<\/p>\n \u201cI kept the album.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked down.<\/p>\n \u201cI made another one.\u201d<\/p>\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cMom\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot to replace anything.\u201d<\/p>\n She handed it to me.<\/p>\n The first page contained no photographs.<\/p>\n Only a handwritten sentence:<\/p>\n Things I missed because I wasn\u2019t paying attention.<\/strong><\/p>\n Inside were newspaper clippings.<\/p>\n Printouts from my old local television segments.<\/p>\n A screenshot from my first national broadcast.<\/p>\n My journalism award.<\/p>\n Pictures Aunt Carol had sent over the years.<\/p>\n Mom had collected the life she had failed to witness.<\/p>\n I closed the album.<\/p>\n \u201cThis doesn\u2019t undo the first one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n That was the first time she didn\u2019t try to make it.<\/p>\n I kept both albums.<\/p>\n The old one and the new one.<\/p>\n Not because they balanced each other.<\/p>\n They didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n One documented exclusion.<\/p>\n The other documented regret.<\/p>\n Both were true.<\/p>\n Eventually, I used part of my grandfather\u2019s untouched trust to establish a scholarship for students who had to move far from home and support themselves through school.<\/p>\n I named it after Aunt Carol.<\/p>\n Not my parents.<\/p>\n She was the person who had made nine abandoned summers feel safe.<\/p>\n She cried when I told her.<\/p>\n Then asked why I was wasting money on a plaque.<\/p>\n Some people remain themselves in the best ways.<\/p>\n Years later, I was asked during an interview why I became a journalist.<\/p>\n I could have given the polished answer.<\/p>\n Truth.<\/p>\n Accountability.<\/p>\n Public service.<\/p>\n Instead, I said:<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I was twelve, I found thirty-six photographs proving a story had been happening around me without including me. I think I\u2019ve spent my career making sure people who get left out of the picture still get seen.\u201d<\/p>\n The interviewer went quiet.<\/p>\n So did I.<\/p>\n Because I had never said it that clearly before.<\/p>\n For nine summers, my parents packed my bag and sent me away.<\/p>\n They thought exclusion would make life easier.<\/p>\n My brother got the vacations.<\/p>\n They got the family photographs.<\/p>\n And I learned how to survive without being chosen.<\/p>\n When I moved across the country at eighteen, they laughed and predicted I would come crawling home.<\/p>\n I never did.<\/p>\n Years later, breaking news interrupted their evening.<\/p>\n My face appeared on millions of screens.<\/p>\n For the first time, they couldn\u2019t crop me out.<\/p>\n But the real victory wasn\u2019t becoming famous enough to be seen.<\/p>\n It was realizing long before that broadcast that I no longer needed the people who erased me to confirm that I existed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Part 1 For nine summers, my parents packed my suitcase and sent me away while they took my brother on the family vacations I was never allowed to join. At first, I thought it was temporary. When I was seven, Mom said I was \u201ctoo sensitive\u201d for a long road trip. At eight, Dad said […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":95186,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-95185","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-breaking-news"],"yoast_head":"\nPart 2<\/h1>\n
Part 3<\/h1>\n