Pretty much the saddest thing I’ve read for a while, but it’s really important if you can handle it.
It’s about to rain. Williams’ wispy white hair flutters in the breeze. Tears stream down his gaunt face.
He doesn’t know whether the assistant drill sergeant who raped him is alive still. He’d like to show him X-rays of his broken body. He’d like to tell him the horror within that will never die.
Outside his old house, he says goodbye to the curious stranger and begins to fold up his walker to put in the back seat. Things, Williams tells the man, aren’t always what they appear to be.
As a symbol of his troubles, he wears an orange wristband on his left arm with the number of a veterans’ crisis line. Next to it is another band with the name of the film he is in: “Justice Denied.” He makes sure the two always overlap.