“Court will reconvene tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was today.
At eight-thirty sharp, a guard opened the door. “You’ve got visitors.”
Walter blinked. “Visitors?”
“Some fancy lawyer from a veterans’ group. Guess you made headlines.”
The guard wasn’t wrong.
Outside, news vans already lined the curb. The rumor of a “homeless war hero” had exploded overnight, fanned by talk radio and social media outrage.
Most came for spectacle. A few came out of guilt.
Inside the courthouse, the press clashed for angles while the clerk kept repeating, “No cameras inside the courtroom.”
But nothing could keep out the murmur of curiosity that filled the corridors.
When Walter stepped through the side door, his posture straightened instinctively, like an old uniform suddenly worn again.
Gone was the unshaven drifter.
In his place stood a soldier trying to remember how to be seen.
At the defense table waited a gray-haired attorney in a navy suit.
He rose, offering a firm handshake. “Richard Harlow, Veterans Legal Defense Alliance. You’re not alone anymore, Mr. Grady.”
