Arthur had died investigating the opposite.
The old man had been sick, isolated, and running out of time.
But he had still rented Unit 108.
He had copied ledgers.
He had preserved a laptop.
He had written letters.
He had trusted Walter.
He had left a path.
Mason could never recover the three years prison took from him.
He could never sit beside Arthur’s hospital bed.
He could never hear his father say the conviction had been a mistake.
But he had the handwriting.
He had the records.
He had the truth Arthur promised would eventually find a way out.
And every time Mason looked at the brass key hanging on his wall, he
remembered the day he walked into a cemetery searching for a grave.
Instead, he found the first door back to his own name.
PART 9
The Arthur Reed Truth Fund began in one borrowed office with two folding
desks.
