Tyler arrived wearing a navy suit and carrying a Bible.
His lawyer spent forty minutes portraying him as a grieving young father who had been cruelly separated from his child by a dangerous motorcycle gang.
Then he displayed a document on the courtroom screen.
RAYMOND DAWSON.
CRIMINAL CONVICTION — 1991.
AGGRAVATED ASSAULT.
EIGHTEEN MONTHS’ IMPRISONMENT.
I watched the judge’s expression change.
Ray sat perfectly still.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I was genuinely afraid we might lose.
The lawyer spoke about criminal history, rehabilitation, and the importance of placing a child in a safe and respectable home.
He made Ray sound like a threat.
When it was Ray’s turn to speak, the old man stood up slowly.
“That’s true, Your Honor,” he said. “I got into a bar fight when I was twenty-six. I hurt somebody, and I went to prison for it. I served my sentence. I haven’t had so much as a speeding ticket since.”
