All of that mattered.

But none of it was the victory.

The victory was eight thousand dollars, wired to a woman who had rediscovered that she could earn it.

Recovering her house was justice.

Watching her recover herself was the whole point.

And I want to dwell on that distinction, between justice and healing, because I nearly made the mistake of confusing them, and I think many people in my position do.

When I first found Gaby at that traffic light, everything in me focused, naturally and correctly, on justice — on recovering what was stolen, on punishing those who took it, on making the ledger balance.