The dock stood on four new treated posts, paid for by the honest yield of the land and set by local men who had known my father before they knew me.

Shawn’s first parole hearing came and went in May; the board denied him, citing the calculated nature of what he’d done and his complete lack of remorse, and he would serve his full term.

Greg finished sweeping county roads in the summer heat and moved off to a small apartment a state away, his money gone and his name ruined.

And on a bright Saturday, a small silver station wagon came up my drive.