Her orange and white striped jump suit beneath long, blonde, flowing locks suggests a children's entertainer, a professional party host for a gathering of eight-year olds. In a different setting, we could expect to hear the screams of joy and laughter, the party poppers going off, the moms and dads enjoying a glass of wine in the middle class kitchen of their middle class homes, bi-fold doors open to the gardens where the children have been placed to avoid the slightest risk of custard pie foam on the couch.
Thank God it isn't raining, smile the benevolent hosts, trying and failing to fix an ironic grin on their faces. Truly, in their hearts, they thank God it is not raining.
That Lori Vallow does look like a children's entertainer, dressed in bright hoops that extend even to her sneakers, is of course the properly ironic matter here. Painfully ironic. Because Vallow is suspected of one of the worst crimes a mother could possibly commit, although the charges, while hardly throw-away, are of a slightly less serious nature. Clearly, unspoken words tell that the public believe that she is guilty of something far more horrific.
A mother betraying her children. More than that? The words are on everybody's lips, sympathy settles in the hearts of very, very few.
