Redemption

by Phil M. Williams

  Michelle climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, cranking the heater. Jason sat next to her in the passenger seat.

  “How did you find Tuttle?” Jason asked.

  “My dad,” Michelle replied, putting on her seat belt. “I have a good feeling about Norman.”

  Jason creased his forehead. “Your dad helped you find me an attorney?”

  Michelle nodded. “I know it seems like he’s against you, but I think it’s just because he was a cop. He’s always really suspicious.”

  “I can’t imagine he’s on my side.”

  “I think he cares about what’s true. I also think he knows things about your case, things that Norman doesn’t even know yet.”

  Jason turned in his seat to face Michelle. “What makes you think that?”

  Michelle started the engine. “When I called him for help, the first thing he said was, ‘They picked him up, didn’t they?’”

  “He knew I was going to be arrested?”

  “I think so.”

  “What else does he know?”

  Michelle’s eyes widened, and she turned in her seat to face Jason. “We should go over there and find out.”

  Jason showed his palm like a stop sign. “I’d rather not see anyone right now, especially your father.”

  “I understand. You can wait in the car.”

  “Let’s just go home.”

  Michelle shook her head. “This is your life. This is our life. If he knows something that can help you, he’s going to fucking tell me.”

  He leaned over and hugged her. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. When they separated, she said, “We’ll get through this. I love you.”

  He cracked a small smile. “I love you too.”

  They drove across town to her parents’ neighborhood of ramblers and colonials on quarter-acre lots. Michelle parked next to Frank’s F-150, in front of the garage. “I’ll be right back.”

  She exited her BMW and peered into the garage window. Her mom’s car wasn’t there, which wasn’t uncommon on a school day. Ruth taught English at Loganville Middle School. Michelle walked along the front walk to the front door. She rang the doorbell and tried to open the door, but it was locked, which was odd for her parents.

  After several doorbell chimes, Frank finally answered the door. “Michelle? What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you,” Michelle said, her hands on her hips.

  Frank glanced at the driveway, probably wondering if Jason was there, but Michelle’s car was obscured by Frank’s truck. “I need to talk to you too.” Frank let Michelle inside.

  They sat across from each other at the dining room table. Michelle unzipped her coat but didn’t bother taking it off.

  “You knew that they were going to arrest Jason, didn’t you?”

  Frank rubbed his goatee before answering. “I thought they might arrest him, but I didn’t know. When you called, you were upset, so I figured …”

  “I feel like you’re keeping something from me.”

  “I didn’t know anything until this morning.” Frank clenched his jaw. “I gave Jason the benefit of the doubt. That’s why I helped you find an attorney. I regret that now.”

  Michelle glared at her father. “He didn’t do it. You and Mom and Susie were so quick to point the finger at him. That’s why the cops zeroed in on him.”

  Frank glared right back. “I know from a very good source that they found semen on Becky’s underwear.”

  Michelle’s eyes were like saucers. “What?”

  “Yeah. The semen matched Jason’s DNA. That piece of shit raped Becky.”

  Michelle winced, as if she’d been slapped. “That can’t be right. There has to be an explanation.”

  Frank’s lower jaw jutted forward. “Yeah, there’s an explanation. Your husband’s a goddamn pedophile.”

  Michelle was stunned and slack-jawed for a moment. “This is insane. I know Jason. He wouldn’t do this.”

  Frank leaned forward, spittle coming from his mouth. “How else do you explain his semen on her underwear? He raped my granddaughter!”

  Michelle thought for a few seconds, grasping for an explanation. “We had sex on Christmas night.”

  Frank held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear this.”

  “Hear me out. He used a condom, and he threw it in the trash in the bathroom. Maybe someone took it and put it on her underwear, or it was some kind of lab mistake.”

  Frank sneered. “Impossible. Your mother and I were the only ones to touch the underwear. Detective Wells bagged it right in front of us. And labs don’t make mistakes.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “This is no mistake. I’m gonna tell you something, and I suggest you listen real good because you’re at a crossroads. If you support Jason, you’re on the side of evil. Do you understand that?”

  Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Frank pointed at Michelle, his finger jabbing the air between them each time he said you and your. “If you support Becky’s rapist, what do you think that’ll do to your relationship with Susie or Becky or your mother or me? What about your career? Everyone will wonder if you knew, if you condoned it.”

  Michelle blinked, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “There has to be a mistake.”

  “It’s not a mistake. Even if he finds a way to weasel out of the charges, he’s still guilty in my mind.”

  Michelle shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

  Frank’s demeanor softened. “Stay here tonight. We can go down and get your stuff tomorrow. Divorce him. Wash your hands of him. You need to show this family that you support Becky and Susie. That’s the only way to salvage anything in this fucking nightmare.”

  Michelle kept shaking her head, her vision blurred by her tears. “I don’t believe you. He would never. You don’t know him like I do.” Michelle stood from the table.

  Frank stood from the table. “Women are fooled all the time by these creeps. It’s not your fault. Now that you know, you can do the right thing and stand with your sister and Becky.”

  “This isn’t right. This isn’t right.” Michelle turned and hurried to the front door.

  Frank ran after her, catching her near the door, grabbing her by the upper arm, and nearly yanking her off her feet. “He’s a pedophile.”

  Michelle caught her balance and shouted, “Let me go!”

  He let go, stunned by the volume of her voice.

  She turned to her father, her eyes like lasers. “You’re wrong about him. I know my husband.” Michelle left the house, slamming the door in her wake.

  Chapter 18: Theories

  Michelle ran to her car, entering, and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reversed wildly into the street.

  “What are you doing?” Jason asked, his eyes wide open.

  Michelle stomped on the accelerator, the rear end fishtailing before righting, and ripping down the street.

  “Slow down,” Jason said, putting on his seat belt.

  As her parents’ house faded from her rearview mirror, she eased off the accelerator and took a deep cleansing breath.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Michelle turned onto Pleasant Valley Boulevard. She didn’t look at Jason. “They found your semen on Becky’s underwear.

  “What? That can’t be. It has to be a mistake, or someone planted it somehow.” Then he came to the same conclusion that Michelle had. “When we had sex on Christmas night, I put the condom in the bathroom trash. The cops could’ve planted it or Danny or …”

  Michelle cast a side-eyed glance toward Jason. “Or who?”

  “Frank.”

  Michelle gripped the steering wheel, showing the whites of her knuckles. “My dad wouldn’t. Neither would Danny.”

  Jason hung his head and rubbed his temples. “Someone did.”

  They didn’t talk for a few minutes. Jason stared out the wind
ow in a trance. Michelle drove them away from Loganville on I-99 South through the mountains. The traffic was light. Winter winds pushed against the BMW.

  Michelle finally broke the silence. “We have to figure this out.”

  Jason turned from the window to Michelle.

  Michelle continued. “Let’s think this through from the beginning. We had sex on Christmas night, and you used a condom. You went into the bathroom and threw it away. I’m assuming you threw it in the trash? You didn’t flush it down the toilet, did you?”

  “Of course not. You’re not supposed to flush condoms. It can cause plumbing issues.”

  “Okay, so you threw it in the trash. Did you wrap it in tissue, or did you just throw it in the trash?”

  Jason frowned. “I wouldn’t just throw it on the top of the trash for your parents to see. There wasn’t a lot of toilet paper left, but I used the last of the roll to wrap it up as best I could. It was more than enough to cover it.”

  Michelle glanced from the road to Jason and back again. “Did you put it on the top of the trash or did you put something on top of it?”

  “I don’t make a habit of digging in the trash. I’m sure I put it on top. Someone would have to open it up to see that a condom was inside.”

  Michelle nodded, remembering the sequence of events. “Then we went to sleep, and a few hours later my dad was yelling about Becky peeing the bed. My mom took Becky to the bathroom to clean up and noticed blood in her underwear. Becky told her that someone touched her. Then my mom gave the underwear to my dad, who put it in a Ziploc bag. If that’s all true, how does your semen end up on the underwear?”

  “The only thing that makes sense to me is Danny planted it. He has motive and opportunity.”

  Michelle pursed her lips, thinking for an instant. “What if my mother put the underwear in the trash, and it touched the condom?”

  Jason shook his head. “But the condom was wrapped up, and your mom said she gave the underwear to your father. She didn’t say anything about putting the underwear in the trash. Would she put the underwear in the trash or in the laundry?”

  “I guess that depends on the condition of the underwear.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “It was hard to tell. It was folded inside the Ziploc bag. It didn’t look new though.” Michelle exhaled. “There has to be an explanation.”

  “It’s possible that Ruth doesn’t remember putting the underwear in the trash. Maybe she threw them away, then asked Becky about it. Ruth was understandably upset. Maybe she grabbed the underwear from the trash, realizing it was evidence—”

  “But she was so distraught that she forgot about throwing it away,” Michelle replied, finishing Jason’s sentence.

  “Exactly,” Jason replied. “But that doesn’t explain how there’s transference when the condom is wrapped in toilet paper.”

  Michelle moved to the right lane to let the truck riding her bumper pass. “Semen can leak through thin toilet paper. You said there wasn’t much toilet paper left.”

  “Maybe. But my semen was in the condom. It won’t leak through latex. And even if the condom did leak, which is unlikely, gravity would make it leak down. If your mother put the underwear in the trash, she would’ve had to put it under the wrapped up condom.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want bloody underwear visible, so she moved some trash to cover it.”

  “If she did all that, do you really think she’d forget putting it in the trash?”

  Michelle shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I still think it was Danny.”

  They drove for a long time in silence. Jason peered out the window. Michelle thought about the case. One question occupied her mind.

  What if Jason’s guilty?

  Chapter 19: Choose

  The next day both Michelle and Jason went to work. There wasn’t much to do about the case, until the meeting with Norman on Monday. Despite their upcoming meeting, Jason said he’d call Norman Tuttle from work to tell him about what Frank had told Michelle, plus their theories on how Jason’s DNA had ended up on Becky’s underwear. They both felt the information was too important to wait until Monday.

  Michelle wasn’t at her best, sleepwalking through the school day. Five different students asked her if she was okay. It took all her strength not to dissolve into tears.

  After work, Michelle made dinner like usual. Jason barely talked and barely ate. He was a zombie, hunched over his food, swirling his mashed potatoes with his fork. With his plate still half full, he said, “Do you mind if I go to bed? I’m sorry. I’m not very hungry.”

  “Do you want me to lay down with you?” Michelle asked.

  “No. I want to be alone. I haven’t slept at all the last two nights.”

  “Okay. If you need me, just let me know.”

  He left the table, leaving his plate and wine. Normally, Jason cleaned up afterward, since Michelle cooked, but this wasn’t normal.

  Michelle picked at her honey-glazed salmon, sitting at the white linen-covered table for eight, with a chandelier overhead. She thought about what was to come. Monday, they’d meet with Norman to strategize. Wednesday was the preliminary hearing. There’d be witnesses. Michelle set down her fork, suddenly sick to her stomach. Everyone will be there. My family. They must hate me. She wiped the tears welling in her eyes with her index finger. She thought about Becky. If Jason didn’t molest her, who did? Is she still in danger?

  Michelle stood and cleared the table, making three trips from the dining room to the kitchen sink. She washed the dishes, loaded the dishwasher, and started the machine.

  The phone rang. Michelle went to the kitchen phone, picked up the cordless receiver, and said, “Hello.”

  “It’s me.”

  Michelle sucked in a sharp breath. “Susie. Um, how are you?”

  “How do you think I am?” Susie replied.

  Michelle stood by the counter. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “I … I’m sorry that that happened to Becky. It’s … awful.”

  “It was child rape. You can’t even say it, but Becky had to live it.”

  Tears welled in Michelle’s eyes again. “You’re right. I don’t even want to think about it. I’m so sorry.”

  Susie spoke with an undercurrent of rage. “Then why the fuck are you standing by her rapist?”

  Michelle felt woozy. She leaned against the counter. “I know it looks bad, but I swear to you, he’s innocent. I know my husband—”

  “No. You can’t say that to me. There’s DNA evidence.”

  “I know, but Jason and I had sex that same night. His condom was in the bathroom trash. It’s possible that Mom put the underwear in the trash and—”

  “Don’t defend him! If you don’t leave that fucking pedophile, you’re dead to me.”

  “Please, Susie. There has to be an explanation—”

  “Go to hell!” Susie hung up.

  Michelle set the cordless phone on the counter. Tears slipped down her face. I know Jason. He wouldn’t do this. I know he wouldn’t. She went to the living room and collapsed on the couch. But what if he did? She pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed.

  Chapter 20: Concession

  On Monday morning Michelle and Jason met Norman Tuttle at his office in Loganville. Tuttle and Associates occupied the top floor of a five-story office building. Norman’s corner office was filled with dark wood and black leather. Thick legal texts adorned the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The picture window featured a view of downtown Loganville, which consisted of churches, weathered brick office buildings, bars and restaurants, the courthouse, and a ten-story apartment building that used to be a railroad parts factory.

  Michelle and Jason sat in plush leather chairs across from Norman at his mahogany desk.

  “I just got off the phone with the DA,” Norman said. “He’s offering to drop the two counts of sexual intercourse with a child in return for a guilty plea on the two cou
nts of aggravated indecent assault of a child—”

  “Absolutely not,” Jason said, through gritted teeth.

  “I figured, but I’m obligated to inform you of any plea offers.”

  Michelle wrung her hands in her lap. “Would he go to prison if he took the deal?”

  Jason shot Michelle a look that could kill. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not pleading guilty.”

  Michelle dipped her head and shrank in her seat.

  “The deal’s ten years in prison, no parole,” Norman said.

  “I don’t care if it’s one day in prison,” Jason replied.

  Norman flashed his palms in surrender. “Okay. Then we better get to work on your defense. Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me what happened. Don’t leave out any details, no matter how mundane.”

  Jason took a deep cleansing breath. “I went to the basement with Becky on Christmas Eve because she wanted to look at the presents, but she was afraid to go down there alone.”

  Norman’s fingers were steepled before him. “Why did she choose you?”

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because I play with her when we go to visit. We have a good relationship. At least I thought we did.”

  “What happened when you went down to the basement on Christmas Eve?”

  “Nothing really. She was proud that she could read her name, and she was showing me which presents were hers. I taught her to read Santa. She picked that up really quick. Then we played Ice Cream Shop.”

  Norman narrowed his eyes. “How exactly do you play Ice Cream Shop?”

  “She has plastic ice cream stuff and likes me to be the customer. I pay her with imaginary money. I ask for different toppings. I pretend to eat the plastic ice cream, and I tell her how good it is. There’s not much to it.”

  “Did she ever touch you accidentally or rub up against you?”

  Michelle searched Jason’s face for signs of guilt.

  Jason frowned. “No. Apart from holding her hand sometimes, we never touch. She’s not a touchy-feely kid. I don’t think we’ve ever even hugged.”

  Norman raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think you’ve hugged, or you know you haven’t?”