Chapter 12 - The Father and the Son
Three days after Career Day, Thomas Wyler agreed to a formal interview.
I wasn't present.
I had no right to be.
And I didn't need to be.
Whatever I wanted to say to him, an investigative interview was not the place for it.
I spent that morning at home with Matty.
He was on a short school-approved absence while administrators worked on a plan to address the bullying and prepare for his return.
We made pancakes.
They were terrible.
I burned the first four.
Matty managed to drop an entire egg onto the kitchen floor.
Tank wasn't there to help clean it up, which my son considered a serious oversight in military planning.
For forty minutes, we laughed.
Then Matty asked whether Daniel Voss liked pancakes.
I stopped.
"Probably."
"Did you ever have breakfast with him?"
"Lots of times."
"What was he like?"
I looked at the spatula.
Then at my son.
"He talked too much."
Matty grinned.
"Like me?"
"Exactly like you."
"What else?"
"He played cards badly and insisted he was good."
Matty laughed.
"He sounds funny."
"He was."
I turned off the stove.
"He was also very good at his job."
My son watched me.
"Do you miss him?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Does Chief Rowan?"
"Very much."
Matty thought about that.
"Then why does everybody fight about him?"
I stared at the pancake batter.
"Because people want different answers about what happened."
"But there's only one thing that really happened."
I looked at him.
"Yes."
He shrugged.
"Then somebody should figure it out."
I smiled sadly.
"That's what we're trying to do."
He took a bite of pancake.
Made a face.
"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"You're better at bombs than breakfast."
I laughed.
"Absolutely."
At noon, Rebecca called.
I almost didn't answer.
The last time we'd spoken, Leah had been furious with me.
Rebecca sounded exhausted.
"Are you busy?"
"No."
"Can we talk?"
"Of course."
She hesitated.
"Leah found another photograph."
My stomach tightened.
"Of Daniel?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In an old box of his things."
I waited.
"There's a man standing beside him."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
She took a breath.
"But the photograph has a name written on the back."
My pulse quickened.
"What name?"
"Elias."
I closed my eyes.
"Elias Rahim?"
Rebecca went silent.
Then whispered, "How did you know?"
I sat down.
The classification review hadn't cleared me to explain the man's role or share newly learned details.
I had to be careful.
"Rebecca, there may be information investigators can help you understand."
She inhaled sharply.
"You know who he is."
"I know a name connected to the review."
"Is he alive?"
The question struck me.
I looked at Matty.
He was carefully cutting his pancake into tiny squares.
I stood and walked into the hall.
"Rebecca, I can't be the person who confirms information that hasn't been approved for release."
She made a sound of disbelief.
"Again?"
"I know."
"No, you don't."
She began crying.
"Every time I think I'm getting close, somebody tells me to wait."
I pressed my forehead against the wall.
"I'm sorry."
"Leah thinks we're being lied to."
I closed my eyes.
"I understand."
"Then help me."
I swallowed.
"I will ask the review team to contact you as soon as they can lawfully share anything."
She was quiet.
Then said, "Sloane?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't make promises you can't keep."
I looked down.
"You're right."
She exhaled.
"I don't want revenge."
"I know."
"I want to be able to tell my daughter who her father really was."
My eyes filled.
"That's what I want too."
We ended the call.
I stood in the hallway for a long time.
Then called Captain Shaw's office.
I didn't ask her to violate any restrictions.
I explained that the family had found a photograph.
I asked whether the review team could contact Rebecca directly.
The officer taking the message promised to forward it.
That was all I could do.
For now.
At two-thirty, Lieutenant Commander Brooks called.
Her tone was different.
More measured.
More serious.
"Commander, there's been a development."
I sat down.
"What?"
"Thomas Wyler acknowledged retaining copies of portions of the original review material."
I closed my eyes.
"Okay."
"He says he kept them as personal reference material."
"Was he authorized?"
"That's under review."
I waited.
Brooks continued.
"Investigators also asked him about the audio excerpt."
"And?"
"He says his son prepared the digital file."
I went still.
"Easton?"
"According to Thomas."
I stared.
"His son edited the interviews?"
"That's the claim."
"What does Easton say?"
"He disputes aspects of his father's account."
I let out a slow breath.
There it was.
A crack.
The father blaming the son.
The son disputing the father.
And somewhere between them, the truth.
Brooks continued.
"Don't get ahead of the evidence."
"I'm trying."
"Good."
She paused.
"There's another issue."
"What?"
"Thomas says he warned his son not to contact the Voss family."
I stared.
"Then why did Easton?"
"That's what investigators are examining."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Does Thomas admit receiving Daniel's safety concern?"
"Yes."
My breath caught.
"He does?"
"Yes."
"What does he say happened?"
Brooks hesitated.
"He says it was forwarded through the appropriate channels."
I closed my eyes.
"Was it?"
"Not yet established."
I looked at the kitchen clock.
The second hand moved.
One small click at a time.
Thirteen years.
One hundred fifty-six months.
Thousands of ordinary days.
And now, after all that time, we were finally asking whether somebody had acted on a warning Daniel tried to give.
Brooks continued.
"Commander, I need you to focus on your own statement and the evidence."
"I know."
"Don't contact either Wyler."
"I won't."
"And stay away from social media."
I almost laughed.
"Working on it."
She sighed.
"You're a difficult client."
"So I've been told."
When we hung up, Matty came into the hallway.
"Who was that?"
"My lawyer."
His eyes widened.
"Do you need a lawyer because you're in trouble?"
I thought about the best way to answer.
"Sometimes people need a lawyer because there's a serious question that needs to be handled fairly."
He frowned.
"So lawyers help people tell the truth?"
"Good lawyers help make sure the process is fair and the evidence is properly examined."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Then he asked, "Does Lieutenant Wyler have one?"
"Probably."
Matty looked disappointed.
"Even him?"
"Even him."
"Why?"
"Because fairness doesn't only count when we like somebody."
He considered that.
Then sighed.
"That's annoying."
I smiled.
"Sometimes."
That evening, Dr. Keene came to our house.
She'd asked permission first.
She didn't arrive with an assistant.
Or a public relations statement.
She came alone.
Carrying a folder.
Matty was upstairs.
I invited her into the living room.
She sat at the edge of the couch.
"Commander Merrick, I've spent three days reviewing what happened."
I folded my hands.
"Okay."
"And I owe you an apology."
I waited.
She looked directly at me.
"I should have stopped the lieutenant the moment he asked your son to stand on that chair."
My throat tightened.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"I should have intervened when the children began laughing."
"Yes."
"And I should never have allowed a guest speaker to continue after publicly accusing a student of dishonesty."
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you?"
She stared at her hands.
"Because he was in uniform."
The answer surprised me.
She continued.
"He was representing the Navy."
I remained silent.
"I assumed he knew what he was doing."
I leaned forward.
"Dr. Keene, a uniform doesn't make someone right."
Her eyes filled.
"I know that now."
I shook my head.
"That's not something a school principal should have to learn from an eleven-year-old."
She accepted that without argument.
"You're right."
For a long moment, we sat quietly.
Then she opened the folder.
"I've reviewed the event plan and the available recordings."
I looked up.
She placed several printed emails on the table.
"Lieutenant Wyler requested changes to the program."
"I know."
"Some of those changes were approved by our events coordinator."
I scanned the emails.
Then stopped.
One message contained a request that my EOD presentation be moved to the final session.
A second asked that the Navy question-and-answer segment take place immediately before my arrival.
A third requested that Matty's class be seated in the central bleachers.
The email didn't explain why.
But the timing was unmistakable.
Wyler had arranged to speak to the sixth grade before I arrived.
He knew when I was expected.
He knew which class contained my son.
And he wanted the boy positioned where he could easily be singled out.
I looked at Dr. Keene.
"Did he ask to involve Matty specifically?"
She swallowed.
"There's one more message."
She slid another page toward me.
I read it.
Then read it again.
The message was short.
Sent from Lieutenant Wyler's official event-coordination address.
Please confirm Matthew Merrick's attendance, as his mother's scheduled participation may be useful for the Q&A segment.
My hands went cold.
"He planned to use my son."
Dr. Keene looked sick.
"That's what it appears to suggest."
I stared at the paper.
"But he couldn't know Matty would say he was a SEAL."
"No."
I thought back to the video.
Wyler walking toward the bleachers.
His smile widening.
His voice inviting Matty to come down.
Say that again.
I felt something click.
The lieutenant hadn't needed to know exactly what Matty would say.
He'd arranged the encounter.
Then used the boy's misunderstanding when the opportunity appeared.
Dr. Keene spoke softly.
"I've provided these records to the investigators."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
She wiped her eyes.
"We're also conducting our own review of how the event was supervised."
I looked at her.
"Good."
"And I'd like to arrange a meeting with Matty before he returns to school."
I glanced toward the stairs.
"That's his decision."
She nodded.
"Of course."
I stood.
Dr. Keene stood too.
At the door, she turned.
"Commander?"
"Yes?"
"I'm a principal."
I waited.
"I tell children every day that they should stand up when somebody is being treated unfairly."
Her voice broke.
"And when it mattered, I didn't."
I looked at her for a long time.
Then said, "You still have a chance to show them what accountability looks like."
She nodded.
"I intend to."
After she left, I carried the folder upstairs.
I didn't show Matty the emails.
He didn't need to see how carefully an adult had positioned him for humiliation.
But I did tell him Dr. Keene wanted to apologize.
He thought about it.
"Does she mean it?"
"I think so."
He looked at me.
"How do you know?"
I sat beside him.
"Because she told me what she did wrong without blaming you."
Matty considered that.
Then nodded.
"That's better than what the lieutenant did."
I smiled sadly.
"Yes."
He went back to his book.
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
Chief Hale.
I answered.
"Rowan?"
His voice sounded strange.
"Sloane, are you alone?"
I stood.
"Why?"
"I just spoke with someone."
"Who?"
He took a breath.
"An old contact from the recovery process."
My heart quickened.
"Okay."
"He passed along information that needs to go straight to the investigators."
I gripped the phone.
"Rowan."
A pause.
Then he said the words I had wanted to hear since Captain Shaw first spoke Elias Rahim's name.
"Elias is willing to give a statement."
I closed my eyes.
Hale continued.
"And there's something else."
"What?"
"Apparently, Daniel gave him something before he died."
I stopped breathing.
"What?"
Hale's voice roughened.
"A message."
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"For whom?"
The chief paused.
May you like
Then said:
"For his daughter."
