“You’re on private property,” the man says. His grin is menacing, but it’s his teeth, broken and caked with yellow debris, that shake me up. Once again, I’ve underestimated the danger factor. Like Lawrence, I have blind spots where trouble seeps in. Next thing I know, I’m in over my head.

“Yes, sir.” Lowering his window, Lawrence offers a five-hundred-watt smile. “Good morning!”

“State your business.”

“We’re meeting my son’s attorney.”

“Now? It’s Sunday. No one gets in or out Sunday. Unless you have cause to be in my driveway you need to turn your vehicle around.”

“Dad, let’s go.” My brother is annoyed. “Cassie, tell him.”

“Give me a minute, Nate.” Lawrence starts to open the car door, but the guard lunges forward. “The fuck you think you’re going?”

Flustered, Lawrence holds up his hands in surrender. His voice drops conspiratorially. “Listen, my boy is inside. May I ask one question?” He hesitates, and for a horrifying second, I’m afraid he’s about to offer the guard a bribe—cash, his Mercedes, me.

Lawrence isn’t a foolish man, but he does act impulsively, and I can’t bear to watch. Until this weekend, our only experience with law enforcement has been speeding tickets (mine), and a few driving citations (also mine), including failure to wear a seat belt (true), failing to yield (true), and recklessness (untrue). Sure, there were dustups. In high school, Nate got caught “mischief-making” with toilet paper and shaving cream. Billy once threw a baseball glove so hard he bruised a kid’s head. But nothing serious and certainly nothing criminal.

“Lawrence, come on.”

“Cassie, I just want to ask a question.” On his phone, Lawrence pulls up his favorite picture of Billy, a candid shot from the Lewis School where he volunteers. In it, he’s helping a little boy read. Billy’s sleeves are rolled up, and his tie is loose. He looks patient and caring as he points to a book while the kid sounds out a word. “That’s my son,” our dad tells the guard proudly. “William Quinn. He’s with his lawyer, right at this very minute. I’m hoping to see them while they’re together.”

“That ain’t a question.” The guard trains his eyes on Lawrence. “Turn around and go.”

“Look, sir.” Lawrence’s smile is back.

“He said no!” I grab the phone, which dings with a text. “We’re sorry, Officer. We’re leaving.” I scan the screen. “Look.” I shove the phone in Lawrence’s face. “It’s the lawyer. DeFiore. He’s not even here! He’s down the hill at a diner.”

Lawrence nods and thanks the guard. “Appreciate your time, my brother. We all do what we can.”

The second he closes his window, I blow up. “My brother?” I’m so angry I’m shaking. “What the fuck? It’s so disrespectful.”