She will grow up in the house my father built with his hands, safe, and she will never know, unless one day she is old enough to need the lesson, how close she came, and what an old man’s foresight did to keep her.

With Delia’s guidance, and a portion of the civil settlement, I did something with my father’s old woodworking shop.

I did not tear it down, and I did not leave it a shrine.

I converted it into a small community legal-aid clinic, and we offer free consultations and, especially, free digital-security help to women trying to find their way out of financial abuse and domestic coercion — women who need, as I once needed, to learn how to keep copies.

Above my desk in the workshop hangs my father’s original black USB drive, KEEP COPIES in his handwriting, where I can see it every day.