“They kept this out of evidence,” I said after a time.

“I know,” she said. “Do you think it’s a story?”

I didn’t have to answer. We both knew it was . . .

We watched the rest of the footage without speaking. The camera hovered above the island once more, quietly bearing witness, as the men entered buildings, as they left. If the helicopter approached too closely, the men would raise their weapons; the camera would move to a safer distance, then continue to watch the calm exteriors of the buildings while inside the children were cut down: seven dead here, five here, twelve here. Two shots every time, as we knew from the coroner’s report, while somewhere out of sight the tactical unit foundered in their too-small rubber boat.

The only sound now was Vee’s breathing. In, in and out. An everyday miracle, in the midst of all this death.

Suddenly she was there: the girl in the kingfisher dress. Above her a man on a ledge in a torn T-shirt. Both looked up at the same time. Hearing the helicopter, I guessed.

As I watched, the man threw himself from the ledge into the water and turned toward the shore. He was waving to the camera. You could see him shouting.

“Thank God,” said Vee very quietly. “That’s what he’s saying, right? Thank God. He thinks they’re going to drop a rope or something.”

The girl on-screen raised her hands to shade her eyes. She was smiling. You could feel the relief in her, even at this distance.

Vee leaned across and pressed pause. She picked up the iPad, stared at it very closely. Then she passed it to me.

“She thinks she’s being rescued.”

I looked up, nodded. Vee nodded back.

“Can you make this bigger, Vee?”

“You could. It won’t really help, though. There’s no extra detail.”

I handed the iPad to her. Vee pressed play.

Four more children on the steps now, waving upward. The girl who must be Licia at their head, in her kingfisher dress. The shot began to pull away as the helicopter moved upward. Why was it abandoning them?

Something in the girl changed. Every muscle in her seemed to slacken. She grasped the handrail at the edge of the steps. Strange how you could read the emotion, even at this distance: the realization that no one was coming to save her.

The world failed you, Licia, I thought.

Neither Vee nor I slept. I sat in the kitchen, making phone calls and drinking coffee; Vee sat with me, listening to every word.

Dan wanted TV pictures.

“Why?” I said. “You’re a radio station.”

“We’re that, and we’re whatever else we need to be.”