Ransom beat the wrap...so to speak. He's out of prison after almost four years to find himself close to broke and with no family, except for the daughter of his nanny who loved and raised him. It's definitely a new world. When a previously undiscove...
After four years of being in this fucked up, rotten place, I'm getting out!
First, that bitch Marta pressed charges of course, even though not a hair on her head was harmed. The district attorney tried to press charges about Granddad for a man slaughter which was clearly suicide. Knowing how regular people like to stick it to people like me, I asked for a bench trial so that my fate lay in the hands of one judge, not bunch of average Joes, Joannas, Juans or Jamals.
I did not want to kill my grandfather. I wanted him to think that Marta wasn't as perfect as he seemed to think, and have her make a mistake that would make him sick and rethink cutting me from the will. I mean, what good is it to kill the old man if he can change the will before he dies? That argument, plus a bunch of childhood memories of how close we used to be that others could attest to got my attempted murder charge busted down to criminal malice-twice. Once again, I was buying myself time to destroy evidence with Fran, so I drugged her, not intending to kill her, making everything her word against mine. My tampering with evidence was out of fear, but stood, even though Marta was party to the attempt. My enraged (and very stupid in afterthought) admission and attack (again, stupid) was reduced to aggravated assault, especially when I said I lost it, and blacked out because I was so angry I admitted to anything to make Marta fear me, hoping she would give me my share of the money. I wanted that; I wanted that as much as I wanted to put my hands around her pretty little neck at that moment.
Four years and over a million dollars later, Covid set me free before my actual parole date, which would have been in another three years. Gotta love Massachusetts, one of the few states that actually vaccinated inmates. Honestly, I think they realized the lawyers drained my money, and not one member of my family had contacted me, so they let me go. I was given parole provided I did two years of community service and went to anger management classes and therapy, which I had begun going to in jail. I got away with a lot, but after seeing prison, living there, I don't ever want to go back again, nothing is worth it, I'd honestly rather die. I decided rather quickly I want to be happy and free, and I had to go about doing that.
Amazingly, I am getting out almost unscathed. I got beat up only once. I wasn't raped, thank God. When some guys from another block tried to attack me, some big black guy named Andre protected me. He told me to hang on to his shirt and I did. That gesture meant so many things, but for me, it was all about protection. When I asked him why he was helping me, how much it would cost, he chuckled and told me I was loved. That's when I knew someone was on the outside trying to help me, and it wasn't my family.
That someone was my old childhood and college friend, not to mention current personal assistant, Amana. Her mother, Allison, was my nanny. She actually visited, sent me cards. We'd been working together for quite some time now, and she didn't stop being there for me. We grew closer after Allison died. Big Christmas bonuses paying off in loyalty, I joked, and she told me, "Someone has to try to finish raising you."
Great job, I ended up here, I thought back then, but now I realize it's partly my fault. But I'm outta here, and I'm not looking back.
I barely said two words to any one person on the way out, the most to Andre and John-John, my protectors. When I told him I owed him, he laughed and said it was covered and that was what one does for family. Freaked out by that, I just wanted to go. I left my joke postcards behind, tore up and threw away all those prison admirer emails that entertained me for a time, and then put the letters that mattered in my jacket pocket. I stepped outside, not looking back once as the gates open and closed, the buzzers sounded, and I breathed real and fresh air.
I saw my car. My car!
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