Chapter 7 - The Desperate Plea
A week later, the county correctional facility smelled of bleach, damp concrete, and despair. I sat behind the reinforced glass partition in the visitor's booth, holding the black telephone receiver to my ear. On the other side of the glass sat Gregory.
His cashmere sweater had been replaced by a rough orange jumpsuit. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, and his hands shook as he picked up his receiver.
""Samantha,"" he pleaded, his voice cracking through the static of the line. ""Thank God you came. You have to help me. The judge set my bail at five million dollars. The federal prosecutor is talking about twenty-five years. Pamela’s lawyers are already filing for divorce and trying to cut a deal by turning state's evidence against me! Even Dustin’s public defender is claiming I coerced him!""
""You did coerce them, Gregory,"" I said, my voice deadpan. ""You dragged everyone around you into your gutter.""
""I am your father!"" he snapped, a flash of his old arrogance flaring up before quickly dissolving back into desperate panic. ""Look at me! I raised you! I put food on your table! If you just post the bail bond using the trust account, I can hire a top-tier defense team. We can beat these charges! It was a family dispute, that’s all! We can tell the judge it was an internal family misunderstanding!""
""A misunderstanding?"" I scoffed. ""You tried to wire four million dollars to Belize using a forged death certificate while your mother was still breathing! You threw her passbook into her grave like trash!""
Gregory pressed his hands against the glass, tears finally spilling down his hollow cheeks. ""I was desperate! The creditors were threatening my life! The company was going under! If you don't help me, I will die in here, Samantha! Is that what you want? To watch your own father die in a concrete cage?""
""What did you feel when Grandma Beatrice died?"" I asked quietly, looking into his eyes. ""When you watched her coffin go into the ground, did you feel a single shred of grief? Did you think about how she carried you, how she raised you, or how she spent her final years counting pennies just to survive?""
Gregory looked down at the metal shelf, unable to meet my gaze. Silence hung heavy between us.
""You felt nothing,"" I answered for him. ""You only thought about how quickly you could get your hands on her money. You thought she was weak because she was kind. But Grandma had more strength in her little finger than you have in your entire body.""
""Samantha, please..."" he choked out, his voice reduced to a broken whimper.
""The trust will not be paying your bail, Gregory,"" I said firmly. ""You will stand trial. You will face every single charge. And whatever sentence the judge gives you, you will serve every single day of it.""
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""You can't do this to me!"" he screamed, slamming the phone against the shelf. ""I'm your father! You owe me!""
I slowly placed the receiver back onto its cradle, stood up, and turned my back on him. His muffled screams banged against the thick glass, but I didn't look back. As the heavy steel doors buzzed open to let me out, I felt as though a thousand pounds of invisible chains had finally fallen from my shoulders.
