The Morning After My Son’s Funeral An Airport Worker Called About The Bag He Left Behind

the IP addresses associated with each transaction.

Ten of the eleven matched a device registered to Brett Shaw.

Not David’s phone. Brett’s.

I sat with that for a moment. David had been asleep or medically vulnerable, and Brett had been sitting somewhere in my house, under the roof I paid for, using his own device to move money from his stepfather’s account continue reading …