Chapter 16 - The Cost of a Perfect Story
Two days later Hollis asked to speak to Monroe again. Luke told me first, because his uncle had called him looking for reassurance and found none.
“I think he's going to tell them something,” Luke said. “He sounds scared.”
Hollis's supplemental statement didn't arrive in my hands; Monroe summarized the parts she was authorized to discuss. He acknowledged that Mason had made at least one additional return to the casualty point and that the original citation overstated his own physical role in the evacuation. He disputed deliberate deception, saying the earliest drafts had compressed multiple actions during a chaotic rescue.
It wasn't the confession people online wanted. It was more useful: a correction by the person whose words had governed the story for twelve years.
Then June received a message from a stranger calling me a fraud who had pressured a grieving soldier into changing his testimony. I reported it, saved the screenshot, and asked June if she'd like to stop following the news. She said yes.
That night she found me in the garage, looking at Mason's old toolbox.
“Were you hoping he'd confess everything?” she asked.
“I was hoping the truth would be simple.”
She picked up a hammer with its handle worn smooth by years of use. “Dad fixed things, right?”
“Everything except the dishwasher.”
“Then he'd know some things can't be fixed all at once.”
On the table lay the child's scarf recovered with Mason's effects. I told her how he'd tied it around his wrist so the little boy he'd carried would recognize him when the smoke cleared. I had never known whether the child survived.
June traced the frayed edge. “Why didn't you tell me that story?”
“Because it ended with me not knowing.”
“That's still his story.”
A week later Helen Brooks called. The foundation's independent review found its fundraising narratives unreliable and several expenses insufficiently documented; a separate financial audit would determine whether anything improper had occurred. Hollis stepped down from the board pending its findings. The van program and scholarships would continue through interim trustees.
“Does that mean I won?” I asked.
Helen took a breath. “It means people will still get their vans. That's a good beginning.”
That evening Luke visited to return the blue medal case from the ceremony. The foundation had decided not to present its award until the historical account was settled.
He held the case out to me. “I don't know where it belongs.”
May you like
“Neither do I,” I said. “Keep it safe until you do.”
