He had watched one woman be made the problem to protect the people around her, and he had promised himself, in whatever private way a grieving man makes promises, that if he ever saw it happen again where he could reach it, he would not stand at his mailbox and look away.

“So why come back?” I asked.

“Why now?”

“Because someone is using that medicine to hurt people again,” he said.

“And this time I think I can do something about it.

But I can’t do it alone.”