My brother, the bomber
It was a lazy Saturday morning in December 1994 in the Mosser household.
Thomas Mosser, then 50, curled up inside his daughter’s playhouse and read stories to his little girl, Kelly, then 15 months.
Afterwards, she wanted to play tea parties.
Kelly toddled to the living room, picked up a toy teapot Meanwhile, Thomas checked the post.
His wife Susan had signed for a package the night before. It sat on the kitchen counter of their home in North Caldwell, New Jersey.
‘I don’t recognise the
