One Scrap of Paper from Oak Creek Hospital Rewrote Thirty-Four Years of What My Family Remembered
Howard Cobb tucked the yellowed birth affidavit into a clear protective sleeve and locked the brass trunk key in his leather trial bag.
By a quarter to nine the next morning, Room 204 of the Oak Creek County Courthouse was packed past the wooden railing.
I took my seat at the long mahogany counsel table between Howard Cobb and Claire.
Claire wore a pressed dark navy cardigan and touched the crescent scar under her chin every time the heavy oak doors swung open.
Two rows behind us, my high school principal, Mrs.
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