Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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There's a click on the other line, reconnecting my call with Dave Broman, a close family friend back home. He also happens to be a family lawyer and he's doing us the favor of looking into my dad's parole status to release my mother from the burden of thinking she has to keep up with it herself.
I understand her investment in the task but I just don't think it's a good idea for her to get involved, to constantly be checking websites for a change in information and making uncomfortable phone calls multiple times a week.
That being said, it's also the last fucking thing I want to keep checking up on myself, so when Mom ran into Dave at the store a couple weeks ago and he offered to do some digging for her, we were both happy to let him do the legwork.
"Sorry about that, Tom. The old lady was just making sure I'd be home for dinner," Dave says with a smile that I can hear through the phone.
"No worries, bud. Tell Annie I said hi."
"Will do," he replies happily. There's a pause on his end as the distinct sound of shuffling paper streams through the receiver. "So, back to what I was saying. It looks like your dad is eligible. They actually started the official proceedings for parole a while ago. And given that he wasn't a primary suspect, already had the reduced sentence and all that, I can't say I'm surprised."
"Right," I mutter. "It just seems a little soon, doesn't it?"
It's really not that soon. He's already been locked up for sixteen years, which is a little over half of what he was given. The law may say he's done his fair portion but it'll never be long or fair enough for me.
From where I'm standing, his sentence shouldn't have been limited to his involvement in the gigantic drug bust that went down, the one that shook the entire city of Albany when the FBI finally made a move. Nope, that bastard deserved so much more that we never got justice for.
Sure, the drugs were technically what put him behind bars. But for me and my family, it's the domestic crimes he should really be paying for, the ones that took a backseat to the drug bust and went unanswered for because no one ever knew about them.
He'll never be in prison long enough to make up for that shit.
"It's been sixteen years," Dave states, only to inform and remind as I catch a note of regret in his tone. Not regret for my dad's sake but, rather, the understanding, awareness, and support Dave has always held for my mother and my sisters. For me.
I nod my head up and down like he can see me through the phone before responding with a defeated groan. "I know."
Dave clears his throat and his voice picks up some energy. "Now listen, Tommy. Your dad's only about halfway through the necessary proceedings, maybe less. Let me check something here..." His voice drifts off while more papers move on his end and then he speaks up again. "Yeah, it looks like he has his meeting with the inmate correctional counselor next week, so chances are that he won't even see the inside of a courtroom for the hearing until at least November. Probably more like December since New York is backlogged as fuck right now."
