I had walked into that building believing I was, and I had written two pages, and she read them and was decent about them and then explained the position to me plainly.

The attempted forgery was committed against the bank and against Margaret Henderson.

Margaret was dead.

The bank had lost nothing.

I had lost nothing, because the transaction never completed, and the account came to me in full on the thirty-first of October.

“You are not a complainant,” she said.

“You are a witness and a family member.

Those are both real things and neither of them is a victim.”