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everyone thought he was so weird, no matter how much I tried to defend him: He was smart. The odds were stacked against him. He was my brother’s son.
    “He doesn’t even know how to order food, Dad,” Sophie had said. “He always seems a bit stoned out.”
    “He does spend a lot of time off in space,” Kathy said . “You have to admit he’s a bit weird.”
    I told them, “He’s on medication, guys. Cut the kid some slack.”
    “I’m sorry, but he gives me the creeps,” said Maxie. “How much longer is he going to stay?”
    I spent the next couple of hours watching a baseball game and picking at a burger from room service. Around four my phone rang. I was happy to see it was Kathy.
    “Hey,” she said.
    “Hey . . .” I exhaled wearily.
    “You sound exhausted. How are they doing? I called a little while ago, but neither really wanted to talk.”
    “Devastated. How else could they be? You’re not going to believe how it happened, Kathy.”
    I told her everything I’d learned. How Evan had been looking to buy a gun. How he was taken in and put in isolation after trying to beat up Gabby, and then released after only a couple of days. To the care of a halfway house that let him walk out the door.
    “That’s just so awful, Jay.”
    “Someone has to get to the bottom of this for them. They’re not capable. It’s tearing them apart.”
    She hesitated just a bit. “Get to the bottom of what, Jay?”
    We hadn’t always seen eye to eye about things with my brother and Evan. Usually, it was how we were always coming to their rescue. First, for a nicer place for them to live. Then tutoring for Evan. Then when he smashed up the car. And finally bailing them out from under all that credit card debt. “When do they try, just a little?” Kathy would say. “Gabby can work. Our kids get summer jobs; why not Evan?”
    But mostly, it was that incident with Max.
    It was on Evan’s last trip east. He and Maxie were playing a little one-on-one in the driveway. Something set them off. Things always seemed to cross the line with Evan.
    I was in the den, flipping through some medical magazines. Suddenly I heard screams. Sophie’s. From outside. “Get off, Evan. Get off! Mom! Dad! ”
    I bolted up.
    Somehow Kathy, who was in the kitchen, got there ahead of me. She jumped on Evan’s back, Evan’s arm wrapped around Maxie’s neck; Maxie was turning blue.
    “Evan, let him go! Let him go! ” Kathy screamed, but at six feet, close to two hundred pounds, Evan was too big for her. “You’re going to kill him, Evan!”
    “First he has to take it back . . .” Evan squeezed tighter. “ Right, Max? ”
    Max couldn’t take anything back. He was gagging.
    Kathy screamed, unable to pry him away. “ Jay! ”
    I got there a second later and ripped Evan off by the collar, hurling him across the lawn.
    My nephew just sat there, eyes red, panting. “He called me a frigging freak!”
    Max had had bronchial issues from the time he was three. He needed a respirator back then, twice a day. His face was blue and his neck was all red and twice its normal size. He was in a spasm, wheezing convulsively.
    I knew immediately he had to get to the hospital. I threw him in the car and told Kathy to get in. I called ahead to the medical center. In eight minutes we were there. They immediately placed him on oxygen and epinephrine. His airway had closed. Acute respiratory distress. Five minutes more and he might have been dead.
    When we got back home, Evan tried to say he was sorry.
    But it didn’t matter. Kathy never quite forgave him. She wanted him out of the house.
    The next day I drove him to the airport and he was gone.
    “I need to get to the bottom of why he was let back on the street, Kathy,” I answered.
    She didn’t respond right away. “Look, I know I haven’t always been the most supportive when it comes to this . . . You’re right, they need you, Jay. Do what you can. Just promise me one thing.”
    “What’s