The Faded Alibi
The air in the hearing room of Blackwater Valley was thick with the scent of dried dust and stale tobacco, a suffocating mixture that seemed to settle into the very fibers of my coat as I sat behind the bench, my hands resting on the cold mahogany, watching my younger brother, Julian, stand in the center of the room with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched as if he were already bearing the...
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