As a prosecutor, Brent started with good intentions. Hearing that guilty verdict fed his insatiable desire for revenge on his father and foster mother's killer(s). The cops hadn't caught the son-of-a-bitch, so Brent took judgment on killers; he hadn...
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MARCH 4th. My sentencing day.
"Brent," the judge said, "for the murder of Jack Kemp, I sentence you to the state penitentiary for 15 years."
"Judge!" I said. "Jack killed my father!"
"What proof do you have?" the judge said.
I turn to Dizzy. "Do you have the surveillance video?"
"It's right here," Dizzy said, handing the video to the bailiff who, in turn, gives it to the judge.
"This better be good, Mr. Mason," the judge said more annoyed than I'd heard him before.
I dropped my head and choked back a lump in my throat. I'd heard prison is harsh, especially for law enforcement, so I'd better get tough. I'd better reach back to my childhood and the ruthless self-confidence of homies who hung out with me after my foster mother died.
The judge placed his glasses on the edge of his nose. "What am I looking at here, Mason?"
My hands are cuffed behind me, so I l nod as if to say straight ahead. "There!" I said. "That man walking his dog is my father. Shortly, you'll see a man come from behind..."
"I see it," the judge said.
The video depicts a tussle with both men on the ground. First wrestling over Dad's wallet, then wrestling over Jack's gun. I looked down and away when the gunshot rang out. Sure, I'd heard gunshots before, but it's different with dad. Even though he was a racist, he was still my dad. What he taught me about racism had the opposite effect. It didn't help that a black man murdered my father, though. And the woman who adopted me was the mother of the son-of-a-bitch that murdered him. My love for Bella gave me an insatiable desire for compassion for those that deserve it (and I got to pick who to forgive and who to send to the electric chair).
"Well," the judge said, turning the video off. "In that case," he said, looking down at his paper, "I revise the sentence to five years state prison. And your law firm will assist Mark with, well, with anything fucking thing he needs! Got it?" the judge said, holding eye contact—neither of us flinched.
I nod. "Yes, judge."
"And with that, this court is adjourned." The judge slammed his gavel and returned to his chamber.
"Come with us, Mason," Officer Dan said.
"Are the cuffs necessary?" I said.
The officer answers none of my questions, guiding me to a cell. This is how we treat prisoners? I wondered. I had no idea that we locked folks up and treated them like trash.
"On the bus, Mason!" a guard said, grabbing me by a fistful of my orange jumpsuit, shoving me on the bus. "Gonna have an hour to think about what prison's gonna be like," the officer said.
