At 12:04 a.m., my oldest son — the one who went to prison for a crime he swore he didn’t commit, the one who now works for the FBI — called and told me to hide. No questions. No lights. No word to my son-in-law. From the attic, through a crack in the floor, I watched my daughter’s husband slide an armoire aside and open a safe I never knew exis… Continues…