Update: For those interested, I have submitted my proof to the mods for confirmation. It turns out that my wife saved one of the newspaper articles, and it, along with my driver's license should be plenty of proof.

This story is pretty long, so I will do my best to get to the point without omitting important details or emotion.

So, from the top: About 10 years ago, I was in the U.S. Navy, stationed in Virginia Beach. I was doing a pretty good job of keeping my nose clean and being a good sailor. I was married and had a son. There was a guy on my ship who had missed ship's movement for a deployment (he stayed in his home town for ~6 months). When my ship returned from deployment he showed back up. Everybody was treating him badly, and I felt sorry for him, so I started a friendship with him.

He was a very likeable guy, and we quickly became rather close. I introduced him to my wife and he practically lived at my house. A couple months on, my ship was leaving for Baltimore for about a week and he missed movement again. Then, he missed movement to Gulf Port Mississippi (and he missed Mardi Gras). While my ship was in Gulf Port, I received word from a buddy's wife that she was watching my son, and that my wife and my "friend" had gone to New York for about a week. I was freaking out a bit, and when I returned home to Virginia Beach my wife explained that she was going to move back to her hometown... but that it had nothing to do with my "friend" and that nothing had happened between them anyway. I didn't believe this, but I came to, due to the immense emotional pain that the truth brought.

We both left for the hometown the following day (I had leave scheduled). I stayed for my 10 days, then took a train back to Virginia as my wife would be needing the car. While back home I had tried to convince my wife to return to Virginia Beach with me to no avail.

When I did arrive back in Virginia Beach, I found out that one of my good buddies and one of my wife's friends had their cars stolen during the time that my ship was in Gulf Port Mississippi... and all signs pointed to my wife being the culprit. I called her and talked to her about it, and she denied having any involvement whatsoever... and I actually did believe her. She had no reason to steal a car. Why would she steal a car?

I spent the next 2 months trying to convince my wife to move back in with me, while at the same time taking on room mates and partying most nights away. Then, one Saturday morning my wife called me and said she had some things to tell me. One of our buddies' stolen cars had turned up in her driveway... because her and my "friend" had stolen it. Also, they had stolen the other car that was missing, but they had only pawned all of the stereo equipment and then ditched it on the side of the road. She had one more thing to tell me: She was pregnant, and she wasn't sure if I was the father or if it was my "buddy." I asked her if she knew where he was, and she told me that he left town when the stolen car turned up. I was, as you'd imagine, quite upset at all of these revelations.

I could not sleep that night. I barely slept the next night. Monday rolled around and I managed to get through the work day, and I even managed to get to sleep that night. The next work day was a lot better, and I was beginning to accept my new reality. I went home from work and was hanging out with my roommates. Around 7pm I got a call from my sister. She asked if I was ok, to which I replied I was fine. She said, "Nobody has told you yet?" I said, "No, what?" She then went on to tell me that my son had died a few hours ago. I know that I screamed... it's a little blurry, but I know that. I told her no! She started crying and told me it was true. I asked her how, and she said that she didn't know. She knew that he had been burnt and that was all she knew. She asked if I was coming home and I told her that I would be there as soon as I could be (about 1000 miles away).

One of my roommates drove me to my ship, where my Chief helped me make flight arrangements. The earliest I could get a flight was the following morning, so I slept... and somehow I managed to sleep (shock, denial, I dunno). The next morning I flew home. My sister picked me up at the airport and we went to go see my wife. I don't remember a lot of what was said at that time. I just know that my wife was concealing parts of the truth from me.

My wife and I went to the mortuary and made plans for our son's funeral. A few days after the funeral I found out that my old "friend" had not in fact left town. He was present at the time that my son was burned. I stopped talking to my wife at this point. A day or two went by and the local police wanted to talk to me about my "friend" who they had just picked up (to the credit of my wife's family, they set up a plan with police to catch him, as he was on the run). They asked what my history with my "friend" was, and I told them about it. They also showed me pictures of my son's burns, taken shortly after he had died. At that point I hated my wife. Whatever hopes i had still harbored for reconciliation (and I harbored hopes, she was all that was left of the family I had been working for a few years to build) were gone.

Eventually, after repeatedly extending my emergency leave, and even going AWOL for nearly a month, I returned to my ship... a broken man. My life as I had come to know it was irretrievably over. I slipped into a depression, and kinda went on self-destruct mode. I had 2 things that mattered to me at that moment. The first was that my "friend" was going to be going on trial for the murder of my son soon, and my wife would also be going on trial for child endangerment. The second was that the baby my wife was carrying might be mine.

My "friend's" trial came, and I was only allowed in the court room to testify to his identity and tell the (heavily censored) history between us. I spent days waiting on a bench outside the courtroom, going to lunch with my family, and hearing what had transpired in the courtroom. On the 4th or 5th day, around noon, my sister came out of the courtroom crying. He had been acquitted by directed verdict (meaning that the prosecutor had not sufficiently proven his case, and the judge decided there was not even a need for the defense to have a turn). My wife's family followed my sister out, and many unkind words were exchanged between my family and them. I was too enraged to even talk. We left quickly after the bailiffs made it clear that the courthouse was not the proper venue for that sort of discussion.

I said I'd keep it short, and I did my best. I failed. There is more to the story, and if you wanna hear it, simply ask. This is a long enough post.

Edit 1: Thanks for the questions so far. I really don't get a lot of opportunities to talk about this with people other than my wife. It's very cathartic for me, even 10 years after the fact. Going to bed now. I will check and answer more questions tomorrow morning.

Edit 2: There was a mean-spirited reply from a novelty account which brought up a point about me letting a crazy person into my house. He got downvoted a bunch, but I wanted to address this point. I did and still do feel a certain amount of guilt for introducing this man to my family. I was the gatekeeper of my house and I let a wolf in. In this regard I had failed as a father and a husband. I still believe in second chances, but I am much more selective of who comes into my house and gets to know my family.

Also, after re-reading this post, I feel that it is very one-sided and doesn't even touch on the fact that I was a crummy husband to my ex-wife. We argued a lot, and I picked fights about the stupidest things. Also, I had cheated on her while overseas (which I realize was a big mistake and won't make excuses for. It was wrong), which my "friend" found out about and used as a way to get her to leave me. I deserved to be left high and dry by my ex-wife. I've always felt that my infidelity started my ex-wife and I down a path that lead to my son's death, and have always felt a great deal of guilt about it.

Disclaimer: I am not looking for sympathy. I'm remarried, have a whole gang of kids and a couple foster children--I'm a pretty happy fella these days. Also, I don't think I'll be seeking confirmation, as it is difficult for this sort of IAmA and it didn't work out on my last IAmA (submitted once and was told I needed more, then submitted what I was told to by the mods and received no reply... in fairness to the mods, I was told the first time that my claims were difficult to confirm and probably not worth my time to try).

TLDR: My son died in the care of my (now) ex-wife, after suffering 2nd degree burns over ~40% of his body and receiving no medical attention for nearly 24 hours. To be clear, my wife was not present when my son was burned, but did fail to seek medical attention--I imagine she was terrified at possible consequences and did not understand how deadly burns are.