Every Sunday a quietly spoken lawyer leads his family in a dignified protest outside the American consulate in Lahore. Mohammed Ejaz-ur-Rehman is not an activist or a rabble rouser, but his family's tragedy - once headline news, now forgotten - is a damning indictment of US public diplomacy and a reminder of why America is hated in much of Pakistan.
Almost six months ago he stood and watched helplessly as his brother, Ibad, was killed - knocked off his motorbike by a 4x4 travelling too fast on the wrong side of a busy street. It was hurtling to the rescue of a CIA agent who had shot dead two men and was in danger of being torn apart by an angry crowd.
With his rescue bungled, the spook, Raymond Davis, was arrested, sparking an excruciatingly awkward diplomatic wrangle between Pakistan and the US. The existence of a covert American operation in Lahore was problematic for a Pakistani government trying to manage widespread anti-Western anger and for an administration in Washington keen to prove its operations in Pakistan were all above board.
So it was not particularly surprising when the problem - and the two murder charges - was made to go away before the public scrutiny of a trial. The price was reportedly $2m to $3m in diyya, or blood money, paid to the relatives of the two murdered men. Davis was immediately whisked back to the US. (Although Hillary Clinton said the US did not pay the money, Pakistani officials suggested the money was stumped by Islamabad to be reimbursed by Washington later.)
But that leaves Mohammed wondering whether his family will see justice. His weekly demo, he says, is not about whipping up anti-American feeling (although who could blame him if it was).
“It’s nothing to do with nationalism or Pakistan or anything else. We just want justice. We have heard a lot about American justice, but if their people do any crime overseas then something should be done about that,” he said the last time we spoke.
Publicly the US says it is co-operating with inquiries. But Mohammed says the police are stymied because they cannot find the vehicle, which is now believed to be tucked away on diplomatic soil.
In one family's tragedy lies an important truth about how Washington sees Pakistan - one that provides a dangerous lesson if the US doesn't come clean.
It demonstrates exactly how the relationship between the two countries has deteriorated amid mistrust and misunderstandings into a purely transactional relationship. Money is paid when there is something that Washington wants and Pakistan is only too willing to take the cash.
In public, both countries protest the description. The US insists it is in the region for the long haul, and won't abandon Pakistan when its troops leave Afghanistan. And Pakistan insists its commitment to tackling militancy goes beyond simply vacuuming up piles of dollars.
In reality, though, Pakistan has yet to sign up fully. Its military prevaricates over an operation in North Waziristan, allowing the feared Haqqani network to clear out to safer territory, and officers tip off militant leaders when their hideouts have been rumbled. Having realised that their policy of supporting Islamist extremists has failed, they have yet to develop a new strategy of how to contain the threat.
That leaves the US pumping in billions of dollars each year to assure its supply routes to Afghanistan and to allow it unfettered access to the skies for its drones programme.
Neither side likes to describe the relationship as transactional. But as Mohammed Ejaz-ur-Rehman will tell you as he stands outside the American consulate, some responsibilities are met, while others are ignored. Leaving him in the dark and refusing him justice only reinforces Pakistani suspicion that the US is only in it for the short-term.