Looking Backward from the Tricentennial

Chapter Thirty-Three

Julian looked away from his journal and at the Washington Monument outside his bedroom window. The icon's perpetual prominence could have been a comfort, but the events that had taken place beneath it continued to cast a shadow on his soul. Conner Sullivan's intrusion into the safe space of the parlor two days earlier still bothered him—those piercing blue eyes that had glared so malevolently at him before firing the shots that knocked five decades out of his life.

Reverend Shaver had shed tears when he learned there was a chance the past could be changed. It wasn't the shooting that was his biggest concern, but his failure to listen and advance the American Union. He claimed to have forgiven Conner, despite nearly being executed by the white supremacist. Julian wasn't quite persuaded, but the preacher's sincerity kindled regret for the forceful exit he'd staged.

Julian looked back to the holographic words hanging in front of him. What if I didn't have to kill those men? Questions gnawed at him. Professor Carlton said that I failed; would I have prevented the attack by nudging the nation into the new paradigm of nonviolence? Or is it my destiny to end up dead again, bleeding to death on that street corner hours before the rally?

A knock at the bedroom door broke his reverie. "Hello, Julian," Edith said when he opened it, interpreting the action as an invitation to enter. She was sharply dressed and carried a small, colorful bag. "I wanted to talk with you before everyone else gets here for dinner. How are you?"

"Struggling." He looked pointedly at the monument before explaining his negative reaction to Shaver's guest. He assumed Edith could relate. "Have you forgiven Connor Sullivan?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I haven't thought about him for years."

"He shot me," Julian blurted out. Anger surged in him; he tried to tamp it back. "He and his buddies tried to murder as many black people as possible." Julian exhaled deeply and ran a hand over his stubbled scalp. "I don't want to forgive him, but I think I want to want to forgive him. You feel me?"

"I feel you," Edith repeated, closing the bedroom door and moving close to him. "When it was fresh and raw for me, I wanted vengeance. Did you know I was going to testify at his trial? There was a plea deal, but I was ready to tell everyone what happened. Seeing you frozen all those years, the wound stayed open a long time before it scabbed over." She set her bag down and asked, "Julian, do you remember how screwed up the judicial system used to be?"

"I have the prison record to show for it," he agreed.

"But a commitment to ending mass incarceration helped turn it around. When everyone had an American Union Job, people were less angry." Ray had raised a similar point: that crime fell after the program began. "The desire to punish started to fade, replaced with a goal of rehabilitation. Even back then, 97% of incarcerated people were going to be released, hundreds of thousands every year; it was win-win to make their reacclimation into society as smooth and successful as possible.

"After serving ten years, Connor was able to request a sentence review. I was notified, as one of the victims, and given the opportunity to make a statement."

"What did you say?" Julian asked.

"I didn't say anything," Edith replied. "I wasn't the same person I'd been a decade earlier; I was willing to defer to the court's evaluation of whether Connor was, the same way they did for everyone who had their sentence reviewed. The judge found he was no longer a danger to others, demonstrated readiness for reentry, and that further punishment was not in the interest of justice."

Julian touched the scars underneath his shirt as he absorbed the idea. "He killed people."

"He did," Edith agreed. "But you know the old saying: the worst thing a person's ever done is a statistical outlier. It's a terrible data point to define someone by, and to the best of my knowledge, it never happened again. Isn't that what you want rehabilitation to accomplish?" Julian agreed. "Since you asked if I forgave him, the answer is: I have now. It wasn't a conscious thought before, but yes."