On Feb. 12, 1998, my mother appeared before a grand jury at the federal courthouse in Washington, D.C. She was not subpoenaed to testify about a robbery she witnessed, or to describe some aspect of a securities fraud, but to be questioned about me -- her only daughter. I was horrified and sickened. Not unlike many young women, I had confided in my mom -- to a certain extent -- and expected our conversations to remain between us. In a million years I could never have fathomed a situation where we would find our bond -- a deep, important and...