Chapter 8 - The Desperate Plead
Three days later, the rain returned, tapping gently against the glass of the attorney-client visitation room at the county detention facility.
I sat behind the thick acrylic partition, wearing a crisp charcoal suit and a fresh tie. On the other side of the glass, the heavy steel door buzzed open, and a corrections officer led Richard inside.
The transformation was staggering.
The immaculate, arrogant financier in the three-thousand-dollar tailored suit was completely gone. In his place stood a broken, hollow man wearing an oversized bright orange jumpsuit. His hair was greasy and uncombed, dark purple bags hung heavily beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his hands trembled as he sat down on the metal stool, his wrists chained to a heavy leather waist belt.
He picked up the red plastic receiver with shaking fingers. I lifted mine to my ear.
""Harold,"" he choked out, his voice cracked and desperate. ""Harold, please. You have to listen to me.""
I sat in absolute silence, staring at him with cold, impassive eyes, refusing to offer him a single word of comfort.
""I know I made a mistake,"" Richard pleaded, tears streaming down his face, smearing against the glass. ""I was drinking too much. The stress from the firm was driving me insane. I didn't know what I was doing that night! You have to tell the district attorney that Emily wants to drop the charges! If she drops the assault charges, my lawyers can fight the federal indictment!""
""You fractures her skull, Richard,"" I said, my voice steady, carrying clearly through the wire. ""You broke her arm. You dragged her into a freezing shed in the middle of a storm and locked the door from the outside. You left her to die.""
""I was going to let her out in the morning!"" he cried, slamming his handcuffed fists against the ledge, causing the corrections officer behind him to step forward with a hand on his baton. ""I swear to God, Harold, I was going to let her out! It was an argument that got out of hand! We can fix this! We're family!""
""We were never family,"" I replied smoothly. ""You married my daughter because you thought her quiet nature meant she was weak. You preyed on her kindness. And you thought I was a helpless old man you could push into the shadows.""
Richard dropped his head against the glass, sobbing openly. ""My mother is living in a cheap motel on the highway, Harold. She’s using grocery store gift cards from a church charity. The government took everything! My office, my cars, my reputation... it's all gone! If I go to federal prison, I'll be in there for twenty-five years! I won't survive in there! Please, have mercy!""
""Mercy?"" I leaned slightly forward, my gaze piercing straight into his soul. ""Did you show Emily mercy when she was begging you to stop on the kitchen floor? Did Margaret show mercy when she laughed at me at the front door while my daughter was freezing in her own blood?""
Richard’s sobs caught in his throat. He looked up, his face pale and twisted with the realization that no amount of begging would ever save him.
""You reap what you sow, Richard,"" I told him quietly. ""The SEC has your records. The grand jury met this morning; they returned an indictment on fourteen felony counts. Emily signed the divorce papers an hour ago. You will never see her again. You will never speak her name again. You will spend the prime of your life behind concrete walls, reflecting on the respect you claimed you were teaching my daughter.""
""Harold! Please! Don't hang up! Don't leave me here!"" he screamed, his voice turning into a high-pitched wail as I slowly placed the receiver back onto the cradle.
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I stood up, adjusted my coat, and turned toward the exit. Through the reflection in the glass, I saw the guards haul him backward, his chains clanking loudly against the floor as he kicked and wept like a child.
I walked out of the prison into the crisp November air, feeling lighter than I had in years. The cancer that had poisoned my family had finally been excised.
