My take
A. Something happened.
B. John & Patsy, justifiably or unjustifiably panicked, rushed to obfuscate, contaminate the scene, obstruct justice, compose a Tolstoy of Ransom Notes that would make the Unabomber seethe with jealousy, and proceeded to construct and continue building the remainder of their unprecedented level of diversified staging, sewing seeds of sheer shock and horror, including their own interwoven ball of disentangled intertwinements, constructing the most contorted and distorted misdirection of narratives, along with making contradictory shit up on the fly, both when caught in the moment - AND HENCE - every time asked unanticipated questions lobbed at them from left field, all - and especially - in the wee early years, while overcome with one twisted combobulation interwoven into a complex ball of profound devastation, grief, terrorizing fear and the unrelenting distress stemming from frantic juggling balls on all sides, at times, when the prognosis appeared sunnier and to their favor - leading to fleeting spurts of smug confidence - and at other times, when ominously dark threatening clouds loomed overhead: but never, ever, with the genuine peace that stems from the unperturbed internal noise of unqualified tranquility.
C. The rest is a tangled web of melded thoughts, emotions, and actions, both self-preserving, as well as self-destructive, due to a complex mixture of intentionality, juxtaposed and intermingled w true, apprehensive, and neverending, lifelong, perpetual jitteriness.
D. John always pauses and shifts when confronted and required to respond to groundbreaking, unforseen and/or blusteringly dismantling questions.