“He said David took a plea deal this afternoon,” Sarah said.

“Eight years on the federal fraud charges, plus two years for the assault at the checkout counter.”

I looked down at my daughter’s face as she stirred in her sleep, her tiny nose pressed against my collarbone.

“Did he ask for any statement from me?” I asked.

“The prosecutor told him you wouldn’t write any character letter,” Sarah said.

“He said David cried when the bailiff cuffed him.”

I didn’t say a word.