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Stumble It!
J. Grant Swank, Jr.
As I sat in that courtroom--cold, impersonal, austere space--I looked straight ahead at my adopted teen son with his feet in chains. He was dressed in that dreaded orange outfit. His otherwise handsome face was grimaced, especially as he shot shamed glances at his mother and me when entering through the side door. Guards were on either side of him.
He would end up in a federal prison for several years.
jgrantswankjr.blogspot.com
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