But the true shock was who walked beside him.

On his left was General Miller, a two-star general and my commanding officer. On his right were three large men in dark windbreakers with F.B.I. stamped in bold yellow across their backs.

“Sergeant First Class Caleb Harrington, reporting as ordered,” Caleb said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a blade.

He didn’t spare a glance for his mother. He walked past the plaintiff’s table, crossed to me, and stood at my side. His ungloved hand found mine, fingers interlacing.

His grip was an anchor.

“Mr. Harrington,” the judge said, recovering. “Your mother has filed sworn affidavits claiming you are missing in action and mentally incapacitated.”