“I know this voice,” Papa said, and its voice was surprisingly forceful. Papa looked up at Soltan. “Do you not have a child? If a man killed your child, you would know about that man. You would know the face of the man. You would know the hands of the man. You would know the smell of the man. You would know the voice of the man. This is the voice of the man who killed my child. My child who I cannot see. Who I cannot hold. Who is gone. My child is gone. This man killed my child. I know this voice.”
