I was ten when my father was sent to prison. He was with me the day everything happened, but the case against him looked convincing on paper. We couldn’t afford a strong lawyer, and a child’s voice meant little in court. Every weekend, my mom and I visited him behind glass and tangled phone cords. I grew up determined to change that. Years later, as a lawyer, I reopened his case. Today, after seventeen years, my father finally walked free.