Three weeks later I sat on the other side of the glass from Greg at the county lockup awaiting my trial. He was my first visitor. There was no anger or resentment, only apathy.

As I stared at him in silence, I wondered why he’d come. He’d cooperated with the authorities, told them everything he knew, which was more or less everything that I knew. If there was any more room to add additional nails in my coffin, he put them there.

Finally, he picked up the phone. I picked up mine. We sat in silen...