A Father’s Last Request: The Day a Courtroom Learned to Hope Again

steady. “Your Honor,” the man in the orange uniform said, “I have one request before I go. My son was born last week. I’ve never held him. Just once—may I see him?”

For a moment, even the clock seemed to stop ticking.

The judge studied the prisoner’s face—a man both younger than his sentence and older than his mistakes. Finally, he nodded. “Bring them in.”

The First and Only Touch

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