The federal courthouse in downtown Chicago had witnessed countless proceedings over its decades of service,
but few had carried the emotional weight that filled Courtroom 4B on that gray October morning. The mahogany-paneled walls,
adorned with portraits of distinguished judges from generations past, seemed to absorb the tension that
The Bronze Star and Purple Heart ribbons on his chest caught the fluorescent light, silent testimony to sacrifices made in service to his country.
At thirty-four, Nathan carried himself with the bearing of a career soldier, though the wheelchair and the haunted look in his eyes spoke to battles that had extracted a heavy price.
Beside him, as he had been for the past three years, sat Thor—a magnificent German Shepherd whose dark
