When Phil saw the burned-out trailer on the news that night, he threw on a pair of sweatpants and jumped in his beat-up F-150.  Several near-collisions later he arrived at the scene, tumbled out of the cab, and wove his way through what remained of the crowd of onlookers.  The reporters were packing up, Jason was sitting on Ida Blaine’s front porch with his head in his hands, and a young cop stood over him with a notepad.  The old woman stood by in silence, holding a glass of water in her trembling hands.  One look from her and Phil knew with certainty that his sister and Dale were both dead.

As he ran up to them, the officer looked up from Jason, and held up a hand.  “Sir, you need to stay back.”

“Outta my way, Captain America,” he growled.  “Th...

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