Because they’d tried to use the interstate banking system to fraudulently transfer the estate’s title, the case landed squarely in federal jurisdiction.

Bail was set at two million dollars each — nowhere near what either could raise.

Three weeks later, the morning sun lay warm over the rolling green hills of the farm.

Dad sat in a wooden rocking chair on the front porch, wrapped in a blanket, a fresh cup of tea on the side table. The color was back in his face, his heart rate had steadied, and the horrible rings around his wrists had faded to soft pink marks that would heal.

I came out with two glasses of lemonade and took the chair beside him.

“The bank finalized the agricultural trust this morning, Dad,” I said, handing him a glass. “The ninety acres are protected for good. No one can sell it, mortgage it, or touch it.