Fortunately, I didn’t get into a lot of trouble after I recanted the testimony. It was an honest mistake on my part—it was, after all, an extremely traumatic night. And this paved the way for Shane to get a new lawyer and have the verdict of his trial overturned.

Today, after eleven years, Shane Nelson is being released from prison.

And I am picking him up.

The doors to the prison open, and Shane comes out, wearing an old black coat, a pair of blue jeans, and sneakers that likely used to be white but are now a shade of gray. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, which holds all his belongings in the entire world. I wave to him so he sees me, and he waves back.

When he gets closer, the dark circles under his eyes are more visible, but at least he doesn’t have any bruises on his face. I had been worried that something could happen in the last few days that might keep him from coming home, but nothing else has gone wrong.

“Brooke. Hi.”

“Hi,” I say.

When I visited him at the prison the last couple of months, we had to talk to each other through a wall of glass, using telephones mounted on the wall. We couldn’t touch each other. Now there’s nothing separating us, but we just stand there, smiling nervously. I don’t know which one of us looks more anxious.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he says.

“No problem.” It’s not like he has anyone else to do it for him—besides me, he’s alone in the world. “How does it feel to be out?”

It’s such a stupid question, and I feel silly for having asked it. But for the first time in a long time, the smile on his face looks genuine. “It feels amazing.”

It won’t be an easy transition back to regular life. Shane at least got his GED, but he had planned to go to college, and of course, that never happened. He has no money, and although he’ll likely be completely cleared of all charges, it’s hard to erase the fact that he spent the last decade of his life in prison. He can’t just carry on like the last ten years never happened.

It’s my fault, and I’m going to do whatever I can to help him.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a flip phone. I hold it out to Shane. “Here’s a phone for you to use if you need it. It’s got a bunch of prepaid minutes.”

He takes it from me, turning it over in his hand. “Wow. At the prison, this would be major contraband. Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but I appreciate it.”