Simha Balani's Hour of Glory

Boaz’s last words struck a chord. All Along, I had been perturbed by a sense of helplessness. I wanted to do something for Simha – smart Alec as he might be – because I came to like him. The thought of his wasting away, wallowing in his own filth, appalled me. Without risking my future by crossing the floor, I had pulled as many strings as I could, hoping to work out an arrangement like a pension he could not afford to turn down. Jacob Keren and Ehood Morag, too, did their bit. In the end, though, a commonplace emotion on Simha’s part defeated our efforts. And the law could not and would not intervene. ...