Joe came carrying expensive handheld gaming systems, the newest ones, still in their boxes.

Tommy did not unwrap them.

“Hey, sport,” Joe said, gently.

And my son, ten years old, looked at his father across the counselor’s table and asked the question I have never forgotten.

“Do you really want to know how I’m doing?

Or do you just want an answer you can show your lawyer?” Behind the observation glass, my throat closed.

The counselor quietly encouraged Joe to just listen, and for once, Joe did.