“That is Ethan’s printed name,” Richard said, his courtroom voice dropping into a flat, heavy monotone.

“And that is his signet flourish on the signature line.”

Ethan took one step toward the edge of the desk, turning his gold signet ring around his knuckle.

“Dad, the military post office was mishandling incoming administrative files during that spring deployment rotation.”

“You signed for a certified hospital notice from a maternity ward,” Richard said, keeping his eyes on the ink.

“You signed for it personally on a Thursday morning at ten o’clock.”