For the first time in more than two decades, the next chapter of his life belonged largely to him.
He had no idea how abruptly that peace would be interrupted.
Isaiah grew up in Mobile, Alabama, in a modest house on a street lined with pecan trees.
His father, Samuel Brooks, worked as a diesel mechanic at a commercial truck facility. His mother, Lillian, was a registered nurse who spent most of her career caring for patients in a community hospital.
They believed in work.
Education.
And treating people with dignity, especially when circumstances made kindness difficult.
Samuel was a quiet man who rarely raised his voice.
He didn't trust people who confused aggression with confidence.
When Isaiah was twelve, he watched his father argue with a customer who accused the repair shop of charging for work it hadn't performed.
The customer shouted.
Samuel listened.
Then retrieved the work order and explained every charge.
The man continued yelling.
Samuel didn't.
When the customer finally left, Isaiah asked why his father remained so calm.
Samuel wiped grease from his hands.
"Because the louder a man gets, the less likely he is to hear anything useful."
Isaiah laughed.
"Does that always work?"
His father shook his head.
"No. Sometimes the man stays angry."
"Then what's the point?"
Samuel looked toward him.
"The point is not becoming him."
Those words stayed with Isaiah.
They followed him into adulthood and eventually into military service.
During difficult assignments, he learned that fear and anger could spread through a team faster than accurate information.
A leader who lost control could make a dangerous situation worse.
A leader who remained calm could sometimes give everyone else the room they needed to think.
Isaiah built much of his career around that principle.
And on County Road 44, as Cleary slapped him beside his pickup, he heard his father's voice more clearly than he'd heard it in years.
Samuel died when Isaiah was thirty-six.
A heart condition took him unexpectedly, leaving Lillian alone in the house where she'd raised her children.
Isaiah returned home for the funeral.
He remembered standing beside the grave in uniform, trying to remain composed while his younger sister, Nia, held their mother's hand.
Nia had become a paramedic in Mobile.
She was practical, compassionate, and willing to argue with anyone who tried to convince her that a patient didn't deserve proper treatment.
She also had a temper Isaiah privately admired and occasionally feared.
During the days after Samuel's funeral, Nia managed arrangements, answered phone calls, and made sure Lillian ate.