The three federal agents began walking forward.

The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea.

The lead agent approached my father, pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt, and began loudly reading him his Miranda rights.

A second agent smoothly flanked Celeste.

She spun toward me, her eyes finally welling with tears.

They weren’t tears of remorse; they were the tears of a narcissist who had just realized that actions have consequences.