They had not merely taken things from my son.

They had gotten inside his own mind and made him doubt his own sanity — which is the most intimate theft there is, and the hardest to give back.

“I want to tell you something honest,” I said.

“I did not show up that morning certain that you were blameless in everything.

You’re my son, David, not a saint, and I’ve lived long enough to know there are two sides to most collapses.

What I was certain of — the only thing I was certain of — was that you deserved a fair and honest look at the facts before anyone was allowed to condemn you.