MY PARENTS ERASED ME FOR 12 YEARS BECAUSE OF THEIR GOLDEN SON'S LIE — BUT WHEN THEY SHOWED UP IN COURT TO DEFEND HIM, I WAS THE LIEUTENANT COMMANDER IN CHARGE OF HIS DISCIPLINE!

When we marched back into the courtroom, the gallery remained empty, guarded by armed Master-at-Arms personnel.

Tom sat at the defense table. His manic energy from an hour earlier had completely evaporated, replaced by the hollow, gray terror of a man waiting for the gallows trapdoor to open.

"All rise," the bailiff commanded.

The panel stood behind the elevated bench.

"Petty Officer First Class Thomas Mitchell," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings, "this panel has reached its findings based on the evidence presented."

Tom stood up awkwardly, his knees shaking against the hem of his trousers. His lawyer stood beside him, staring straight down at the floor.

"On Charge One, Article 108 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice—Willful damage, loss, or unauthorized sale of military property: Guilty."

Tom’s eyes widened.

"On Charge Two, Article 121—Larceny and wrongful appropriation of government property exceeding one million dollars: Guilty."

A sharp gasp escaped Tom’s lips.

"On Charge Three, Article 107—Making false official statements and digital record falsification: Guilty."

I set the verdict paper down and looked directly into the eyes of my brother.

"Petty Officer Mitchell, this panel unanimously recommends that you be immediately remanded to the custody of the United States Naval Brig pending the convening of a General Court-Martial. Furthermore, this panel recommends maximum statutory sentencing upon formal conviction: Dishonorable Discharge, total forfeiture of all pay, allowances, and accrued benefits, and a sentence of not less than fifteen years of confinement at the United States Disciplinary Barracks in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas."

"No..." Tom choked out, his voice a pathetic squeak. "No... Sarah, please... Leavenworth?! That’s a military prison! You can't send me there! I’ll die in there!"

"Master-at-Arms," I commanded, entirely ignoring his pleas, "take the prisoner into custody."

Two heavily armed security officers stepped forward. One of them pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his tactical belt.

Click. Snap.

The cold steel locked around Tom’s wrists behind his back.

"Sarah! Sarah, look at me!" Tom screamed as the guards turned him toward the side exit. "Call Mom and Dad! Tell them to get a better lawyer! Sarah! You’re my sister! You can't do this to me!"

The side door opened. The guards pushed him through into the secure detention corridor.

The heavy steel security door slammed shut, cutting off his screaming forever.

I stood behind the bench, took off my gold-trimmed glasses, and wiped them with a small microfiber cloth.

"This hearing is officially adjourned," I said.