Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“Were the authorities notified right away?”
“They were.” I gave her a slight nod. “I was arrested that night, and I’ve been locked up ever since.”
“Do you feel that your sentencing was fair?”
“I don’t see why it matters what I think.”
One of the men at the end of the table leaned forward as he demanded, “Answer the question, Mr. Hughes.”
“Yeah, I think it was fair.”
“What guarantees can you give us that you will not commit another crime?”
“I’m not a murderer. I didn’t set out to kill the guy.” I’d been in fights before—more than I could count, but that night with Ortega was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I was completely consumed with rage. I wanted to make that asshole pay for what he’d done to my sister, but when I started plowing into him, I wasn’t thinking about killing the guy—even if the motherfucker deserved it. I looked Cunningham right in the eye and told her, “I was protecting my sister, and up till that night, I’d never been in any kind of trouble. Hell, I wouldn’t be sitting here now if he hadn’t hit his head on that damn table, but it is what it is. I’m doing my time and trying to make the best of it. But once I get out of here, I can honestly say I’ve got no intention of ever coming back.”
“That’s good to hear, Mr. Hughes.”
One of the other men at the table looked at me and asked, “Have you taken advantage of the programs offered here at the institution?”
“I’ve done the required correctional counseling, and I’ve worked with the landscaping crew on the grounds.”
“I see.” Cunningham looked down at what I assumed was my file for a moment, then turned her attention back to me. “It says here that you’ve been undergoing anger management with Dr. Sophie Grace.”
At the mere mention of her name, warmth washed over me like someone had opened the blinds and let the sun’s heat shine down on me. Damn, I needed to get a fucking grip. I gave Cunningham a slight nod. “I have.”
“Her report says you’ve made great progress in your therapy, and she believes you are ready for release. Do you agree with her analysis?”
“I would say I’m more than ready.”
“So, you feel you have addressed the issues that caused you to be incarcerated?”
“Yes, I believe I have.”
“If released, will you take advantage of the halfway house or will you be able to manage a place of your own?”
“I have a place of my own.”
“And you will be prepared for home visits from your parole officer at any time?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
They went on to ask about what I planned to do for work and informed me about the required weekly drug testing.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
There was still a strong possibility I’d be stuck here in this fucking prison until the end of my sentence, but the way Cunningham was looking at me, I couldn’t help but think she was in favor of giving me the early parole.
And then she asked a question that I prayed she wouldn’t. “Looking back on the circumstances of what occurred between you and Mr. Ortega, would you change anything that transpired?”
“Honestly, yes and no.” I’d thought about that night a million times over the past couple of years and couldn’t deny I had regrets about how things played out. “I would’ve still gone over there and given Ortega a taste of what he’d given my sister, but I wouldn’t have let things get so out of hand. I would’ve gotten her the hell out of there and never looked back.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes.” Ms. Cunningham looked down at my file once more, then said, “We will review what we’ve discussed here today and should have an answer regarding your parole by the end of the week.”
I gave her a nod, then waited as the two correctional officers came over and led me out of the room. On the way to my cell, I mentally rehashed everything I’d said and hoped I hadn’t ruined my chance of getting the hell out of this place.
I was ready to get back to my life, to my brothers, and it gutted me to think it might not happen. When I reached my cell, Tully, my cellmate, leaned up from his bed. “Well?”
“I don’t know, man.” I waited for the guard to close the cell door, then stepped forward to the bars as he unlocked my shackles. Once the guards were gone, I dropped down on my bed. “Guess it went as well as it could.”
“Bet you kicked ass,” Tully replied confidently. He and I weren’t exactly friends, but we had each other’s backs, and in a place like this, that meant something. Tully had at least five more years before he’d get his chance for parole, so it had to be hard for him to say, “You’ll be out of this joint before you know it.”