to sacrifice financially again, and giving her that flag was going to make it all right.” There’s a ton of stories like this. It’s really sad. I had no idea about this, I know you didn’t either, and I’m sure outside of military circles, no one else knows either. I won’t go as far as to say they don’t care. I’m sure they do and would care, and would help if they knew. If is the operative word here. I guess the organization is trying to get the word out to the public. I’m going to locate the petition, and I’m going to sign it. I think I’ll do an article on it when we get back. I’ll run it by Annie, but I know she’ll agree and sign on, too. The written word, as we know, is one of the most powerful tools in the world. Once it’s printed, it’s there forever. That’s just my opinion,” Maggie added hastily.
Nikki could feel the excitement building in her voice. “That’s it, that’s what I read! Damn, you’re good, Maggie. I remember the 65,000 number, but what I can’t remember is if I signed the petition. I want to believe I did because that is just so wrong. I am assuming Bella isn’t getting that $1,000 a month. The sister got whatever the military was handing out at the time by way of insurance. I wonder why she never turned it over to Bella. I sure hope Isabelle comes up with some good records that we can run with. What’s it say about why the survivors are being denied?”
“This article says there are spouses who were eligible to receive the Dependency and Indemnity Compensation, an entitlement paid from the VA to indemnify or hold the government harmless for causing the death of the spouse. It also says that there are 65,000 such spouses, of which Bella is one, who will have their Survivor Benefit Program annuity insurance benefits offset dollar for dollar by the DIC. Full SBP payment is unfairly denied to those surviving spouses. They call it SBP-DIC offset, and these spouses in this article want to fight to end that. They say it is a purchased insurance. It is not normal for one’s insurance to not be paid just because the beneficiary has another policy.
“Some of these spouses lost seventy-eight percent of their income. The article goes on to quote some senators who have opinions and aren’t afraid to voice them. And then people can reply to an e-mail and sign the petition, is what I’m getting out of this. I’m going to send this off to Myra and Annie, and have them call Bella to see if this is what she couldn’t remember. Having said that, I don’t know how a person could forget something like this, and in her case, how she’s involved with how everything went down with her husband’s death. This is her dead husband we’re talking about here.”
“Shock would be my guess,” Nikki said. “She was traumatized. Anything else?”
“Just the names of some of the congressmen and senators asking them to pass HR 553 to change the law. By the way, they’re up to 175,663 supporters now. Their goal is 200,000 signatures. I just signed the petition myself.”
Nikki held up her hand for Maggie to be quiet. “Shhh, what’s she saying?” she asked, referring to the robotic voice offering directions.
Maggie listened intently, then repeated the instructions. “Go to the next traffic light, make a right. Go five blocks and make a left turn on Westminster Avenue. Stay on Westminster for seven miles and you’ll come to a cobblestone road with a sign with an arrow that says, SCULPTURES BY STEVEN CONOVER. From that point, it’s three quarters of a mile to his showroom. I read on the Internet that he lives in an apartment over the showroom. The whole thing—the apartment, the showroom, and, of course, his workroom—was originally an old barn that he renovated. The barn or the showroom sits on eleven acres. I saw pictures on his website of animals he’s sculpted. The grounds are like a natural habitat. Oh, you turn here, Nikki. This is what happens when you talk and don’t pay attention. My bad. Sorry.”
The rest of the ride to Steven Conover’s sanctuary was made in silence.
“Twenty-seven minutes,” Nikki said, looking at her watch. “We’re here. How do you want to handle this, Maggie? Do we go in as who we are and give it all up, or do we