Chapter 9 — Someone Who Doesn’t Say Probably

He took out his phone with unsteady hands and opened a folder — and I saw that my son, even at the bottom, even sleeping in a car, had never stopped being careful.

It held screenshots: bank statements, emails, court notices, dated photographs.

He had been documenting his own destruction the entire time, keeping the record even when he believed no one would ever read it.

That folder was the first thing that gave me real hope, because you cannot build a case out of grievance, but you can build one out of a folder like that.

Then he showed me one message in particular.