EPILOGUE
The Myles Pax Ritter Peace Festival
Goldman Mill — 2026
Four years later, Tommy Euro still thought about Myles Ritter.
The investigation had changed his life in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He had entered it as an insurance investigator, responding to a father’s insistence that the official explanation for his son’s death was wrong. He had followed the evidence to Texas and back, helped uncover a murder-for-hire operation, and found himself confronting people whose political influence extended far beyond the little country he called home.
But when he thought about Myles, he seldom thought first of the investigation.
He thought about a wooden toy with a loose wheel, a little girl who wanted to know when Myles was coming home, and a family on a sorghum farm that had welcomed a young peace educator into its household.
He had kept his promise to Molly.
Over the intervening years, Tommy had become a regular visitor to Anwer-Farron Farm. He helped Nasir with occasional chores, shared meals with the family, and became the sort of honorary uncle who could be counted on to appear at birthdays, listen to children’s stories, and take seriously the things that mattered to them.
Molly was eight now. Barney was six, old enough to ask questions about a young man he remembered only dimly, if at all.
Molly considered herself the family authority on Myles.
“He was very good at fixing things,” she informed Barney one afternoon.
“So is Tommy,” Barney replied.
“Yes, but Myles fixed things before Tommy came. And Tommy promised he’d keep helping us.”
Tommy, who was sitting nearby, looked up.
“Did I?”
Molly nodded with complete confidence.
“Well, then,” Tommy said, “I suppose I’d better keep my promise.”
“You’d better,” Molly agreed.
Nasir laughed.
—
The Myles Pax Ritter Peace Festival had become an annual event in Goldman Mill.
The first had been held in 2023, the year after his death. The people of Goldman Mill had decided that the country’s only murder victim deserved to be remembered not merely with mourning but with a celebration of the principles to which he had devoted his short life.
The nation came together for the observance, with public institutions, community organizations, families, and volunteers contributing to its activities. There were workshops on nonviolent conflict resolution, music, community meals, activities for children, and opportunities to learn about the work of peacemakers around the world.
It was an occasion for remembrance, certainly. But it was also a celebration of life.
Paul Ritter attended every year.
So did Nasir, Sage-Beth, Molly, and Barney.
And so did Tommy and Endie.
At the fourth annual festival in 2026, Molly took Barney by the hand and led him toward a display about Myles’s work as a peace educator.
“That’s him,” she said, pointing to a photograph.
Barney studied it.
“He lived at our house?”
“Yes. He had his own little flat, but he ate with us and helped with everything.”
“Did he play with me?”
“All the time. You were little.”
“I’m not little.”
“You were then.”
Barney looked at the photograph again.
“Was he nice?”
Molly seemed almost offended by the question.
“He was wonderful.”
Tommy, standing beside Endie, smiled.
Molly continued explaining everything she remembered about Myles: the stories he told, the games he invented, the way he could make ordinary chores interesting, and the little things he fixed around the house.
Some of her memories had become mixed with stories she’d heard from her parents. Others were unmistakably her own.
Barney listened with the attention of a younger brother who knew that his sister had decided something important needed to be explained.
After a while, he turned toward Tommy.
“Did you know Myles?”
“Not while he was alive,” Tommy answered.
“Then how do you know about him?”
“Your family told me. His father told me. And I learned a great deal about him when I was trying to find out what happened.”
“Was he brave?”
Tommy considered the question.
“Yes, Barney. I think he was very brave.”
“Why?”
“Because he tried to help people, even when doing the right thing was difficult.”
Molly nodded approvingly.
“That’s what I told him.”
Tommy smiled.
“And you were right.”
—
Later, as the festival continued around them, Tommy and Endie found Paul Ritter standing near a gathering of peace educators.
Paul had grown older, as everyone had. His grief had not disappeared, but it had found a place among the other things that made up his life.
He greeted them warmly.
“Good to see you both.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tommy said.
Paul looked toward Molly and Barney, who were now involved in an activity with other children.
“Myles would have loved this,” he said.
“He certainly would,” Endie replied.
Paul watched the children for a moment.
“You know, when we started talking about a festival, I wasn’t sure I wanted it. I thought it would be too painful, having everybody talking about him.”
“And now?” Tommy asked.
Paul smiled.
“Now I look forward to it every year. I see those children learning the things Myles wanted to teach them. I hear people laughing. I hear music. I see the country he loved doing what it was founded to do.”
He paused.
“That’s how I want him remembered.”
Tommy put a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s how he deserves to be remembered.”
Nearby, Molly called for Tommy.
“Uncle Tommy! Come here!”
He looked at Paul, who was smiling broadly.
“Duty calls,” Tommy said.
“Go on. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Tommy crossed the grass toward the children. Endie followed, laughing when Molly immediately assigned him a role in whatever elaborate activity she and Barney had devised.
The festival continued around them, full of music, conversation, food, and the ordinary happiness of people enjoying one another’s company.
In 2027, Goldman Mill would hold the fifth annual Myles Pax Ritter Peace Festival. By then, Molly would be nine, Barney seven, and there would be more stories to tell.
Myles had been twenty-four when somebody decided his life was expendable.
He had believed in peace, in the possibility of a better world, and in the continuing work of building one.
He had not lived to see what became of his final act of courage.
But his message had been heard.
And in Goldman Mill, it would continue to be heard.
THE END
