My mother-in-law shaved my head while I slept on the very night the United States Army promoted me into one of the most important commands of my career.

For several seconds I could not understand why my name would be inside Ryan’s lockbox, hidden behind a burning wall, among the stolen identities and buried children of Linda Carroway.

Then I saw the date.

I had been three years old.

A custody evaluation. A private placement note. A recommendation signed by a judge whose name appeared in Linda’s ledger.continue reading …