John Edwards: My part in his downfall The Guardian
Late on a spring afternoon last year, my wife, Cheri, and I went to watch our eight-year-old son, Brody, play in the last baseball game of the season. Out on the field was the man who had once promised me the brightest future I could imagine and then abandoned me to national disgrace. He was hiding behind his sunglasses, talking to his son, Jack. Cheri and I sat alone, ignored, as the other parents chatted. Jack and his sister, Emma Claire, who used to play with our kids, looked at us with confusion in their eyes, and we overheard one of the mothers in the crowd whisper something about "the Youngs". When the game ended, my old friend, boss and mentor walked the long way to his car so he could avoid us. It was the last time I would see John Edwards .
It's hard to recall now, in the Obama era, but at one time Edwards was heralded as a potential saviour for the Democrats . Like many others, I'd believed he was destined to lead the party and the country. Back then, he had given me an outlet for the powerful idealism I'd first felt as a small boy who sat awestruck every Sunday as my father, a university chaplain in the turbulent 70s, had challenged prejudice and small-mindedness.
