I PAUSE AT THE DOOR to the interview room and close my eyes, saying a quick prayer to the Holy Spirit for guidance and wisdom—and that he’ll work in Gladys’ heart. I whisper “amen” and open my eyes to find Helen standing next to me.
She looks around and, seeing no one coming, reaches up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, darling,” she whispers. “You’ll do fine.”
I nod and she goes into the viewing room. I take a deep breath and open the door.
Gladys is sitting on the side of the table reserved for the interviewee. The room is just like you see on TV cop shows—gray paint on the walls, two chairs, a metal table bolted to the floor. She doesn’t look up from her phone when I come in.
I take the seat across from her. “Hi, Gladys.”
“Hi, Dad,” she says sullenly, her eyes still on
