“I’m not here to ask you to forgive me,” he went on. “I’m here to promise that no poor family will ever again be hidden or harmed by rich people while I can stop it.”

He picked up a pair of scissors and walked to the front door. Nellie moved beside him on her new leg and a cane — slow, but with her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“You cut it, Nellie,” he said.

“We’ll do it together,” she answered. “He was our boy.”

They cut the white ribbon together.

Inside, Nellie stopped before a large mural. It showed Sawyer in a white coat, surrounded by children and old people, and beneath it were the words from his notebook: First the person is healed; then their name is asked.