The Row(83)

“You’re sure this is what you want, honey?” Her words are soft, but the fact that she’s speaking them means a lot. I told her when she came home on Monday that I wouldn’t be having Jordan over anymore, and she hadn’t asked any questions. Instead, she just gave me a hug.

“I know he’ll only confuse me right now.”

Mama nods and keeps driving, but she reaches over and holds my hand as she does it.

*

On Friday afternoon, when I would normally be heading out to Polunsky, I’m in a courtroom instead. Mama sits beside me, clutching my hand. I know that everything Mama’s heard from Chief Vega and the new lawyer tells us that this should be pretty straightforward, but I’ve never been in a courtroom without being terrified. The family-of-the-victims section is conspicuously empty today, and I don’t know if that’s because they feel bad about all the time that’s been stolen from Daddy—or perhaps because it’s still impossible for them to look at him and not see a murderer.

It may be that way for most of Houston, to be honest. Far more attention in the media is given to a man’s guilt before he’s declared guilty than to a man’s innocence after he’s been cleared. David Beckett’s guilt had rated as a front-page story for months. The meeting to declare him innocent after nearly twelve years in prison only got a single paragraph near the bottom; the rest of his story was continued on the fifth page. Now it’s Stacia’s story that dominates the media’s attention.

It won’t go to trial. She’ll go straight to sentencing, because she signed her confession.

If she hadn’t signed and it had gone to trial, it’s weird to know that I would be sitting on the side with the victims this time around. Mama and I—along with his full-grown daughter, who now lives in Canada—are the only family Mr. Masters had.

I wish again that he could be here with us. Mr. Masters would know what to do with everything we are facing. I desperately miss him always taking the time to prepare us for what we might see and hear.

Now, there is only one thing we can do. We have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

And the best is what we get.

It’s shorter and sweeter than any time we’ve ever spent in a courtroom. It feels like a dream. The crowd is full of smiles instead of hostile stares. A new judge declares Daddy cleared of all charges and offers the apologies of the court and the State of Texas. After my father shakes a few hands and starts to head our direction, strangers with microphones stop him to ask questions like, “How does it feel to finally be going home?” Daddy is all charm in his suit and tie. I don’t remember ever seeing him in a suit and tie, except in pictures from before. His old suit hangs loose on him now, but anything is a massive improvement over the prison jumpsuit.

Maybe they’d give us one to burn.

Daddy kisses Mama and me on our foreheads and hugs us tight. He walks with one arm around each of us as we head out of the courtroom. I’m blindingly happy and at the same time so confused. My mind keeps getting stuck on things we’ve never ever had to worry about before. Is he hungry? Should we stop and get him food? Is there any restaurant he likes in particular? I’ve spent time with my father every week, and we’ve never discussed this. I’m thrilled to see Daddy outside of Polunsky, but at the same time I feel like I know so little about this man before me.

We walk out into a hot, sunny day and Daddy stops, drops his hands from our shoulders, and turns his face up to the sky.

As we stand and watch him, Mama shoots me a nervous smile.

It’s such a whirlwind, I feel like my brain may never stop spinning in the wake of it. We sit awkwardly in the car on the way home. Mama drives because Daddy needs to renew his license. I’m in the back. I don’t remember the last time I sat in the backseat. I can’t find one of the seat belts and once I do, it’s stiff and uncomfortable.

“We need to stay here for a few weeks while things get finalized, but then we could go anywhere we want. We can make a fresh start.” He watches us both with a hopeful expression.

Mama looks like she’s considering it, but her tight smile isn’t hard to make out even from the backseat.

“Mama just got a new job…,” I start.

Mama says at the same time, “Riley seems like she’s finally settling in here a bit.”

Daddy frowns for an instant before he shrugs. “We can wait a bit then. I need to fill out the compensation paperwork anyway.”

“What’s that?” I lean forward a bit to hear him better.

“Since I was wrongly convicted, the state will pay money to make up for what I’ve lost.”

I’m shocked that the state of Texas feels like they can possibly put a monetary value to something like twelve years of a man’s life. “How much do they think ripping you away from your family for twelve years is worth?”

“Almost one million dollars.” Daddy glances back at me and shrugs at the stunned look on my face. It’s like he’s been through too much to hold on to his anger.

But I’m still angry. It’s cost me so much, too, and the great state of Texas won’t be paying me a dime. I shake my head and fall back against the seat. Crossing my arms over my chest, I mutter, “There isn’t enough money in all of Texas.”

Daddy turns around and catches my eye. “No, but it’s a start.”