Eleven people wanted to be met.

I want to record what the other fifty-two did, because I had expected anger and got something more complicated.

Nine wrote to say they were glad I was alive and that they did not want the money and did not want a meeting. Four wrote something similar but with an edge to it.

One wrote three paragraphs of genuine fury, not at me. The rest did not answer at all, which I have decided is the most honest response available to a person who gave forty dollars to a dying woman two years ago and has since moved on with their life.

I met the eleven over six days, mostly in coffee shops, one in a Waffle House at seven in the morning because that was when he could do it.

I brought a cashier’s check to every one. Face value plus what Gavin’s office calculated as reasonable interest, which I insisted on and which two people refused and one person got angry about.