This time, Charles looked a little better—more put together. He was wearing a plain cotton T-shirt and a pair of jeans. When he saw me, he gave a soft, almost guilty, "Hey, sis," then said, "I didn't mean it, really. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Sis, I don't wanna go to jail. If I end up locked up for years... my whole life is over."

"I can help you this time," I said calmly, looking him straight in the eye. "But maybe not next time. Don't count on other people to ...