“So you’re being paid, essentially, to tell this story.”
“I’m not being paid. I’m being given a chance to start over.”
“A chance that requires you to say what the prosecution wants you to say.”
“A chance that requires me to tell the truth.”
“The truth.” He smiles. Condescending. “And why should this jury believe that a self-admitted murderer is capable of telling the truth?”
I look at Sal. He’s still watching me. Still waiting.
“Because I’m tired,” I say quietly. “I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of hurting people. I’m tired of being the man he made me into.” I turn back to the jury. “I can’t take back what I did. But I can stop pretending it didn’t happen. And I can make sure he doesn’t do it to anyone else.”
The lawyer opens his mouth to respond.
Sal speaks first. “You’re a dead man.”
The courtroom explodes. The judge bangs his gavel. DeLuca tries to silence his client.
Sal doesn’t look at any of them. Just keeps his eyes on me.
“You hear me, Enzo? The moment you walk out of here, you’re dead. You, and everyone you care about. I’ll find them. This about that bitch? I’ll find her. And I’ll make sure you watch before I…”
“Remove the defendant!” The judge is shouting now. Marshals are moving toward the defense table.
Sal’s still talking, still threatening, still promising to destroy everything I love.
I don’t flinch.
I’ve spent my adult life being afraid of this man. Years doing what he told me because the alternative was unthinkable.
But the alternative isn’t unthinkable anymore. The alternative is a blue door and a woman who saw me when I was nothing but a weapon. The alternative is worth dying for.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say.
Sal hears me. I know he does, even through the chaos.
And for the first time since I’ve known him, surprise flickers in his eyes.
They drag him out of the courtroom. The judge calls a recess. The prosecutor looks at me like she’s not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.
“That was either very brave or very stupid,” Lancaster says.
“Probably both.”
She smiles. “We’ll finish tomorrow. Then you’re done.”
Done. I’m almost done.
The verdict comes a week later.
Guilty. All counts.
Sal’s going to prison for the rest of his life. The family’s fractured, scattered, half of them cutting deals of their own to avoid going down with him.
Dario will put it back together. Maybe better than before.
I watch the news coverage from a safe house in Virginia. Marshals outside, blinds closed, the same kind of limbo Stevie described when she talked about waiting.
