Owen wanted the name to mean something else. He wanted it to mean justice .

So he became a public defender. Sal didn’t understand. “You defend thieves,” he’d grumble, scraping gravel from his boots on Owen’s welcome mat. “Brandanos build things. We don’t clean up after the people who tear them down.”

“Brandano,” they’d say, squinting. “Any relation to the Brandanos?”

“The fire escape collapsed last spring. The windows on the north side are all broken. There’s no heat, no light, no water.” Owen turned to the judge. “Your Honor, Mr. Cress didn’t secure this property. He weaponized its neglect. My client didn’t break in. He walked into a ruin that the city should have condemned years ago. The only person here who has broken the public trust is the man using blight as a business model.”