My mother left me hungry and lonely at 16. When my…

This was the first lesson my uncle Elliot Sawyer had drilled into me. “Emotion is information,” he would say. “Do not give it away for free.”

At the head of the table sat Marvin Klene, my uncle’s personal attorney and perhaps the only man Elliot had ever fully trusted.

Marvin was 70 years old, built like a retired linebacker, with eyes that missed nothing. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the three of us with a professional detachment that bordered on disdain. He placed a small digital recorder in the center of the table and pressed a button.

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A tiny red light flickered to life, the only warm color in the sterile room. “This reading is now in session,” Marvin said, his voice deep and gravelly. “I must remind all parties present that these proceedings are being recorded.