There is a reason I lifted that particular page and not the letter, in that moment, for the cameras.

The letter was for me, and eventually for Noah; it was private, sacred, my daughter’s own words, and I was not going to hold my child’s mother’s dying voice up like a prop for strangers to photograph.

But the lab report was different.

The lab report was cold, official, unarguable science, a number that no lawyer could spin and no reputation could outweigh and no amount of money could purchase away.

Ninety-nine point nine nine percent.