Wendell had removed that friend’s name.

He had removed the sorrow.

He had kept the applause.

I listened twice, then forwarded the link to Miriam with a note explaining only what Moreno had observed.

It was evidence of a borrowed narrative, not proof of every other allegation.

That distinction mattered.

I didn’t want to fight manipulation by becoming careless with the truth myself.

On Tuesday, my mother asked whether I thought Wendell had ever loved her.