"Yes."
"In uniform."
He looked down as though only now remembering what he was wearing.
"I was supposed to report at eleven-thirty."
"You know what that uniform will do when you walk in."
David met his mother's eyes.
"I do."
"Then don't let it turn this into 'important man's son gets justice.'"
Marcus looked between them. David sat back.
"That's exactly what I've been thinking."
Dorothy crossed her arms.
"Good."
"I want them to see me because I am his father and I am not hiding who I am. But the case has to stand if I'm wearing sweatpants."
"Exactly."
David looked at Marcus.
"Your grandmother is terrifying."
"I know."
Before they left, David made two phone calls. The first was to his executive officer to explain he would miss the return briefing because of an urgent family matter. He did not ask the Army to intervene. He specifically said the issue belonged to the school district unless formal military-family concerns arose through normal liaison channels.
The second call was personal.
"John," he said when the other man answered. "I'm home."
Marcus watched his father's face.
"No, not yet. There's something involving Marcus and Angela's school legacy you need to know."
A long pause.
"I'm going to Lincoln Heights. You do what you think your office requires, but listen to me: don't turn this into family pressure."
Another pause.
"Yes. I know. That's why I'm calling you as Angela's brother before I call you as mayor."
Marcus stared. Angela's brother. He had heard the name Jonathan in family stories, but almost never clearly. His mother had a brother who entered politics, a relationship strained during her illness and broken by grief after her death. Marcus knew little more.
David ended the call. Marcus frowned.
"Who was that?"
David hesitated.
"Someone we should have told you more about a long time ago."
"Dad."
"Later."
"That's annoying."
"I know."
They walked the three blocks to school. David left his duffel at home. Dorothy carried the blue container in her purse. Marcus carried the notebook.
The November air was cold enough that each breath showed faintly. David walked between his mother and son, adjusting his pace unconsciously to Marcus's shorter stride. As Lincoln Heights came into view, Marcus's stomach tightened.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"What if they still say I did it?"
David stopped.
"Then we ask them to show us the evidence."