Arthur’s defense lawyer called me twice in February, pleading with me to sign a leniency affidavit that would clear Arthur of the federal accomplice charges.

I wouldn’t sign it.

I wasn’t going to change the official military audit report, and I wasn’t going to pretend my father’s choices had been harmless slips.

He had picked Julian’s money over David’s honor and my safety.

Even so, I decided not to leave my parents completely penniless on the street.

On the first of every month, my bank automatically sent twelve hundred dollars from my personal account to pay for Arthur’s small rental apartment on Cedar Street.

It covered basic heat, simple groceries and a modest roof over their heads.