her wrists.
“Get on the ground. Now,” another officer shouted at Richard.
My father—the man who had spent decades controlling every outcome and buying his way out of consequences—didn’t resist.
He dropped to his knees, hands shaking violently above his head, his face drained of all color.
Diane sobbed uncontrollably as an officer read her Miranda rights.
The same rights I had heard on that freezing roadside less than two hours earlier.
Vance let out a long, steady breath.
He leaned forward across the metal table, pulled a small silver
