It offers free financial counseling and legal referrals to elderly people being exploited by the very relatives who are supposed to protect them — which turns out to be one of the most common and least discussed crimes there is, a quiet epidemic conducted entirely behind family portraits.

I built it with the restored trust, exactly the use my grandfather would have chosen, and I hung the family portrait in the lobby.

Not out of sentiment.

Because truth deserves a frame.

It is three years now since he died, and I am writing this from the office on the second floor of the center, a restored old brick bank full, this morning, of the particular sound I have come to love more than almost any other — the low murmur of frightened people being told, by someone who knows how, that there is something that can be done.

Downstairs my staff attorneys are sitting with a couple who drove three hours because a son emptied their savings.