One cold morning, he was reviewing cases at the courthouse when an elderly man was brought into the room.
The man wore a faded brown coat.
His hands trembled.
His hair was thin, and his face carried the exhaustion of someone who had endured many difficult years.
His name was Thomas Reed.
He was seventy-three.
He had been accused of stealing food from a supermarket.
The items were ordinary.
Bread.
Milk.
Canned soup.
A small package of cheese.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing expensive.
Adam looked at the case file.
Then he looked at the frightened man standing before him.
For a moment, he was no longer a lawyer in a crowded courthouse.
He was fifteen again.
He could see the warm loaf of bread in his shaking hands.
He could hear Mr. Collins shouting.
He could remember the cold metal chair where he had waited for the police.
And most of all, he could hear Judge Bennett asking a simple question.
