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Reporter’s Notebook: A Father’s Last Words During the Khmer Rouge

Today is Father’s Day. On this day every year, I stare at the black and white identification photo of my father and try to remember the details of the last time I saw him.

It was in Cambodia, on a September morning in 1977. I was 9 years old. At the time, I was living with my grandparents, mom and two sisters in a remote village of Kampot province, about 50 kilometers from the Vietnamese border. It had rained all