It confirmed that several administrative files contained incompatible discharge and placement entries.

The report identified failures in recordkeeping, restricted access controls, and historical billing descriptions that lacked adequate support.

It did not declare every disputed placement unlawful.

It also warned that some original witnesses had died and that not every record could be reconstructed.

Dr. Peter Alden had died years earlier, which meant he could not answer questions or face charges based on the newly examined materials.

The report referred the financial discrepancies and possible document alterations to agencies with authority to investigate them.

Graham Alden’s company was ordered to preserve the records in its custody while the relevant access and compliance questions were reviewed.

I read the report twice before calling Ruth.

She was relieved that an independent authority had acknowledged what the clinic had done to her records.

She was also devastated that the man who made the decisions might never be required to answer for them.

We had known that possibility from the beginning, but knowing did not make it easier.

Ruth asked whether the report would name the nurse who told her the baby had died.

It did not.

The examiner had found contradictory testimony about who delivered the notice.

Martha remembered an administrator, while Ruth remembered a nurse with a narrow silver pin on her uniform.

Harriet could not identify the person from the information available.

I hated leaving a question open after so much work.

Dana said unresolved questions were part of an honest investigation.

Inventing a name would not repair the wrong.

The report recommended creating a protected process for individuals to request corrected records and statements explaining the discrepancies.

It also recommended an independent point of contact for families with similar concerns.

Celia celebrated that part more than anything else.

She had spent years being passed between offices that could not tell her who was responsible for answering.

At a small gathering after the report was released, she raised a paper cup and said she hoped the next person would not need a break-in to find a file.

Everyone laughed, including me.

Then I thought of the broken kitchen glass and felt the joke turn bittersweet.

Our case had begun with one woman trying to take an envelope.

It had become a demand for a system where the truth was not something people had to steal back.

I went home and put the report beside Evelyn’s letters.

Neither document told the whole story.