"A Southern Gothic for the DC area."   -  Vanity Fair "Gifford's writing is immediate, intimate and connected with me very early on." - Richard Sutton, Amazon Vine Voice Suicide, bankruptcy, and a missing fortune...   What happened to the iconic Gifford's Ice Cream franchise and the family behind it?   Few know the truth...   For more than 70 years, Gifford's Ice Cream and Candy Company was associated with nothing but pleasure for native Washingtonians and visitors to the nation's capital, but behind the iconic business's happy facade lay elaborate and cruel schemes.   In this memoir of discovery and resilience, the last Gifford heir takes the reader from his life under the shadow of the family business, to the broken world left behind by his abusive parents. Gifford attempts to understand the reasoning behind the byzantine betrayals and intrigue rooted in the company from its modest beginnings--dark influences that would ultimately destroy the legendary business and its troubled founding family. "This amazing, harrowing tale of the D.C. ice cream family makes it deeply clear that what looks sweet on the surface begs for further investigation -- a brave, dark story of dysfunction." - A.M. Homes, author of  May We Be Forgiven  and  The End of Alice "This is a page turner from page one to the end. A well written, well paced story of intrigue, domestic horror, and how we never know what's truly happening behind the facades we humans construct for the rest of the world. Highly recommend." - Karen Stefano, author of  What A Body Remembers "An honest, and telling story of challenge and self discovery, providing inspiration to rebuke our own "lot" in life. This book has the courage to take on the myths our forefathers create." -- Amazon Customer If you enjoyed  The Glass Castle  by Jeannette Walls and  The Jell-O Girls  by Allie Rowbottom, then you must check out this stunning memoir about the rise and fall of an ice cream empire and the family behind it. "This amazing, harrowing tale of the D.C. ice cream family makes it deeply clear that what looks sweet on the surface begs for further investigation -- a brave, dark story of dysfunction."--A.M. Homes, author of May We Be Forgiven and The End of Alice "A Southern Gothic for the DC area. Loved it."- Vanity Fair " We All Scream is an unflinching tell-all about how what one sees, and even tastes, is not always reality." - Atticus Review "The story Gifford tells is so much more than of the demise of an American ice cream empire. With its twists and mysteries, some unsolved to the end, it's a riveting ride."- The Georgetown Dish "Despite the sweetness of this family's product, Gifford survived one of the most brutal and heartbreaking childhoods ever to be committed to the page. His ability to translate such sad memories into fine art is a mark of his resilience and testament to the strength of the human spirit."- Cathy Alter, author of Crush Born and raised in Washington, D.C., Andrew Gifford is the founder and director of the Santa Fe Writers Project, an indie press dedicated to craft writing. He is the grandson of the founder of Gifford’s Ice Cream. We All Scream The Fall of the Gifford's Ice Cream Empire By Andrew Gifford SFWP Copyright © 2017 Andrew Gifford All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-939650-79-5 Contents Prelude: At the Lake, 1979, Part One: Family of Strangers, Chapter One: The Land Where the Ice Cream Grows, Chapter Two: Indian Rock, Part Two: Splinters, Chapter Three: Vanishing, Chapter Four: Trigeminal Interlude, Chapter Five: Harmony Grove, Part Three: Heir to a Scandal, Chapter Six: Anatomy of an Empire, Chapter Seven: Selling Lies, Chapter Eight: Army of Ghosts, Chapter Nine: Ice Cream Dreams, Disclaimer, Acknowledgements, Sources, CHAPTER 1 THE LAND WHERE THE ICE CREAM GROWS I I always loved books. We had a library in the family house in Kensington, Maryland, with a window that looked out at the treetops in the backyard. The shelves were so deep and strong that I could climb them and touch my head to the ceiling. Painted entirely white, the room was the most comfortable place in the house. I remember hugging the thick, snow-white shag carpet more than I remember hugging either of my parents. I lay on that carpet and worked my way through the books, even if I was too young to understand everything they were saying. Every shelf overflowed — books sitting on top of books, packed two deep. From Robert Jordan to Conan Doyle to Marcus Aurelius. A complete collection of gold-bound first-print Dickens vied for space with Tutor from Lesbos and the collected short stories of Ray Bradbury. Julius Caesar lay atop Richard Matheson. J.G. Ballard formed a wall behind which lurked Sisterhood is Powerful and Ed Sanders' The Family. I got swept up in Benchley's Jaws, the shark lunging up the first edition's stark black cover toward an unsuspecting swimmer. I worked my way through a d