I went to Ronald’s office later that day because I wanted my identity documents returned and knew he sometimes kept family papers there.

I had visited the office many times before.

His receptionist was away from the desk, and the door was open.

I called his name.

No answer.

I should have waited or used the route Frank had outlined.

Instead, I went to the cabinet where Ronald kept the matching family lockbox and used the brass key I still had.

I found my original birth certificate in a manila envelope.