And we achieved it, thoroughly; the courts did their work, the property came back, the guilty faced consequences.

But somewhere in the middle of that fight, watching my daughter flinch at every phone call and check the locks at night even after the Millers had been utterly defeated, I understood that justice and healing are two completely different projects, and that achieving the first does not automatically deliver the second.

Justice is about them — about what was taken and what is owed and what punishment fits the crime.

Healing is about her — about the wounds inside that no verdict can reach, the beliefs that were planted that no court can uproot, the self that was slowly stolen and cannot be returned by an asset seizure.