Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(20)
Following the guard down the hall, I was not surprised to be led toward a conference room. With my impending release I had had multiple meetings, so one more was not surprising.
Stepping inside, I was shocked to see Susan sitting with Clarice and another woman I did not recognize. Hesitating at the door, Susan motioned me in as she stood and thanked the guard before indicating I should take a seat.
Heart pounding, my weak knees dropped into the vacant, metal chair as I gasped, “Rachel? Is Rachel all right?”
The three women all looked stunned at my assumption and immediately clamored to assure me that my sister was fine. Accepting their reassurances, I studied their faces to see any hint at the purpose of the meeting, but their expressions gave nothing away.
“Molly, you know Clarice, Rachel’s foster mother, and this is Thelma Cordone, an attorney friend of Clarice’s.”
“Okay…uh…hello,” I finally stammered, not knowing why an attorney would be here. She had a severe appearance about her with short grey hair and dark glasses. Minimal makeup was worn, but a slash of red lipstick gave her face an even more stark look. She was not smiling but neither was she glaring at me. In fact, her gaze appeared to be appraising me and I wondered what she could see. Licking my dry lips, I swallowed deeply waiting to see what she wanted.
Clarice smiled, drawing my gaze over to her, and said, “Molly, I told you before that Rachel was attending counseling and she is doing very well. She has now told her counselor…and me, what had been happening with her stepfather.”
My wide eyes shot to Clarice first and then jumped to Susan and Ms. Cordone. “She told?” Letting my breath out in a whoosh, I realized how important it was for Rachel to be able to talk about her situation. Swallowing deeply, I asked, “And she’s really doing okay with it all?”
“We have her in counseling twice weekly and it is important for you to know that she has told us everything…including that she made you promise not to tell anyone what happened that night.”
Ms. Cordone took over the meeting and said briskly, “Ms. Thurston, I have Rachel’s statement, backed up by a neighbor who had suspicions, and now I’d like to hear from you…what actually happened on the night that your stepfather died.”
I noticed she did not refer to the incident as the night you killed your stepfather and for that, I was grateful.
The freedom to tell my story allowed it to rush from me, as though no longer pent up behind the dam of my promise to Rachel. I told of going to their house on an impromptu visit one evening. Walking in and seeing my drunken stepfather mauling Rachel. He was on top of her on the sofa with his hands up her shirt as she tried to fight him off.
“I jumped on his back but he shoved me away. I grabbed the lamp on the end table and hit him as hard as I could in the back in an attempt to get him off her. He howled in pain and jumped up as though to rush toward me but tripped over his feet. When he went down he hit his head on the coffee table. Blood gushed everywhere from a head wound but I ran to Rachel. She told me he had been abusing her since mom died. I was so angry but she made me promise to tell no one. She said she’d rather be dead than live with the shame. I had no time to convince her otherwise because the police and EMTs arrived. A neighbor heard the commotion and had called them.”
The room fell silent as I finished my dissertation and I stared at the table, chest heaving with the onslaught of memories. Not looking at their faces, I was terrified of what I would see.
Ms. Cordone was the first to speak. “Molly, your account is the same as your sister’s. To be perfectly frank, if you had been my client, we would have fought for a ruling of accidental death…certainly not manslaughter. And worst case scenario, if they had stuck with involuntary manslaughter, I could have gotten you off with a reduced sentence of probably only probation.”
Her words stunned me but I couldn’t find it in myself to be upset over my conviction and sentencing, because I did it to protect Rachel. Before I had a chance to ponder the ramifications, she continued. “I will be representing you at this point and will be filing to have your conviction expunged.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but found the words halted in my throat. Conviction expunged? Is that even a thing that can happen?
“With the truth now out and with your sentencing complete with the best of behavior, combined with the time you spent on your community service project and continuing your education while incarcerated, I should not have a problem convincing a judge that this travesty should be wiped from your records.” Her sharp eyes stared at me through her glasses as she asked, “Do I have your permission to proceed?”
I opened and closed my mouth, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, I gathered my wits enough to consider the costs. “I have some money put away but don’t think I have enough to pay for your services—”
“There will be no fee to pay,” Thelma replied. “I choose a few cases each year to do as my own community service. And you are definitely a case I want to pursue.”
Nodding jerkily, I jumped to my feet, tears streaming down my face, and grabbed her warm hands in my cold ones. “Oh, my God, thank you! Thank you!”
Clarice stood as well, walking around to offer me a hug and said, “Thelma will also be working to get your visitation rights back to your sister. She’ll stay with us until she graduates from high school next year, but you’ll be welcome to visit anytime.”