Hammer took the news hard.
Not because the suspension was unfair.
Because he understood why it was necessary.
He attended the board meeting without wearing his vest. The chairman, Dr. Malcolm Reed, thanked him for appearing, then asked whether he wished to address the questions concerning the club's oversight.
Hammer stood slowly.
He'd prepared a statement.
But when he looked toward the rows of chairs, he noticed several parents sitting near the back.
One father held a small child in his lap.
A woman beside him carried a medical bag.
Another parent looked exhausted enough to fall asleep where she sat.
Hammer folded the paper in his hands.
For a moment, Benjamin's face came back to him.
His little boy waiting for a hospital volunteer to bring construction paper.
His son asking why the courtyard outside the window had no place for children using wheelchairs to reach the flower beds.
The memory almost took his breath away.
Then Hammer spoke.
“I wanted this project because my son loved this hospital.”
The room became quiet.
He swallowed.
“That's why I asked the club to help. I wanted to build something that would give children a place to feel like children, even when the hospital was the center of their lives.”
He looked toward Dr. Reed.
“But I let somebody I trusted control the money without asking enough questions.”
For a moment, his voice broke.
“I ignored warnings because I was afraid of what they might mean.”
The chairman listened.
Hammer continued.
“I know an apology doesn't put the money back. And I know the hospital can't simply take my word that everything will be different.”
He looked toward the parents.
“So I'm not asking you to trust me.”
Several people shifted.
Hammer took a breath.
“I'm asking you to establish a structure you can trust, whether or not I'm involved.”
Then he described his proposal.
Any future donations from Iron Ravens members would be made directly to a hospital-controlled fund, with independent accounting and transparent project reporting. The club would not select contractors, approve its own invoices, or manage money earmarked for the hospital.
Members who wanted to volunteer could do so through the hospital's regular screening and supervision procedures.
The project would belong to the hospital and the families it served.
Not to the club.
And certainly not to Hammer.
For several seconds, the room remained quiet.