Higgins stopped on the sidewalk, pulling her dog’s leash short as she stared over the low iron fence.

The two lawn workers shut off their equipment and watched us from the driveway.

“You picked your boots and your desert tours, Madison, so don’t come back now pretending to be a mother to this boy,” Richard shouted, his face going red under the overcast gray sky.

“I’m his sister,” I said, standing my ground on the bottom stone step.

“And I’m his legal advocate.”