The trial came four months later, in the county courthouse, and it did not take long, because there is very little for a defense to do against a case built the way I had spent my life learning to build them.

The photographs were dated and authenticated.

The evidence portal logs showed a clean, unbroken chain of custody from my father’s bathroom to the courtroom.

The forged notary stamp and the borrowed license number were laid out for the jury in a way no one could argue with.

The financial trail — every transfer, every emptied account, every dollar routed offshore — was reconstructed dollar by dollar and shown on a screen the whole room could see.

My father did not have to take the stand.