His Bobbyesque hair in his eyes, Brian stood in front of a bank of cameras and said he couldn’t possibly be a good public servant when his family had colluded in torture to save themselves from the consequences of their own role in killing a civil rights worker. Of course, he looked heroic on television, and those of us cynics watching felt sure he’d be back on the campaign trail sometime soon. Still, it made me think well of him.

Meanwhile, Petra was at loose ends. She spent hours every day running with the dogs and watching horse races with Mr. Contreras. One afternoon, she tentatively broached her earlier suggestion that she work in my agency for a time, but I didn’t think either of us was ready for that. I needed a vacation from my family. Finally, I sent Petra over to Sister Carolyn at the Freedom Center. Petra owed Elton a new home, and Sister Carolyn was able to recruit some people from Habitat for Humanity, who showed Petra how to construct a simple place on the river where his old shack had stood.

Carolyn had wanted to give Elton Sister Frankie’s apartment as soon as it was fixed up, but Elton’s brief moment of heroism hadn’t worked any miracles in his ability to be around other people. He wanted to be alone, away from the sounds and smells of others at night. Still, we capitalized on the desire of every public official in Chicago to show what good guys they were—we got the city to donate a piece of land, the equivalent of a quarter of a city lot, down by the river where Elton’s shack had stood. And when Petra and Habitat had finished his little house, we even got Elton hooked up to city water.

Petra still didn’t feel comfortable talking to her father, although he was cooperating fully with both state and federal authorities in the numerous investigations that were taking place. Some were looking at the cover-up of Harmony Newsome’s murder. Others were looking into the allegations of torture at the Racine Avenue station. And, of course, there was Larry Alito’s murder. And Sister Frances’s.