My father didn’t look at Trevor or Colleen.

He kept his eyes fixed squarely on Judge Vance, his back straight against the oak chair.

“Did you look at the financial documents the child recovered?” Douglas asked.

“I did,” my father said.

“My daughter showed me the blue wire transfer ledger sheet at eleven fifteen p.m. that night.

The handwriting on the signature line matches Trevor Sutton’s, and it was written while my daughter was seven thousand miles away.”

“Thank you, General,” Douglas said.