A rescue is a thing done to a person, and what Rowena did was not something done to her.

She was the one who heard the color of the ink.

She was the one who chose, after a decade, to get on a plane and cross an ocean to stand in a room full of the people who had buried her alive on paper.

I made a phone call and held a door.

She walked through it on her own legs, carrying her own evidence, to reclaim her own name.

If there is a hero in what happened at that church, it is the woman who recognized that her father wrote in black.