Part Two — What the Record Says

Two years after my son saved me in a courtroom, a computer in an office three states away decided I was a thief.

I had a lawyer this time. I had money in the bank. What I didn’t have was the one thing I’d traded away for twelve dollars, and the man who took it didn’t remember my name.

Chapter 1 — The Letter

The framed shirt hung in the hallway between the bathroom and Nolan’s room, which meant I walked past it eleven or twelve times a day and had mostly stopped seeing it.

That’s what happens to the things that save you. They become part of the wall.

It had been twenty-one months since Judge Harlan brought his gavel down.