Ada’s petition fit on two pages. The first asked for an independent inspection of the key; the second named the questions she wanted answered before the inquiry published anything: who would handle it, what the examination could establish, when the family would receive the findings, and how they could request its return.
Nora read the pages once more in the corridor outside the inquiry room. “This doesn’t give you a promise of an answer to every question,” she said. “It tells them what you are asking them to decide.”
“Put that in the record too,” Ada replied. “I don’t want them reading silence as agreement.”
Tomas had come with her but waited by the window, scrolling through a list of calls he needed to make. He was old enough to manage his own appointments and did not need the family meeting to decide his day. When Ada asked whether he wanted to add anything, he pocketed his phone.
“Just ask them to tell us whether it could have been one of his ordinary missing keys,” he said. “If they can’t, say they can’t.”
“I will,” Ada told him. “You can ask them yourself if you want.”
“I’ll come in for that part.”
