Page 12 of The Replay
The trial will put a strain on both your relationships and your studies, and in the end, it still may not result in a conviction.”
Nausea churns in my gut. I knew all this, but hearing it said out loud … “Wonderful. Thank you for this enlightening conversation.”
“I’d like to save you that experience, Ms. Russo,” Jaymin says. “If you’ll let me.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, really? And how is it that you’ll manage that? Because you don’t strike me as the type to just walk away and let your son rot for his crimes.”
She purses her lips. “I’d like for us to discuss a plea deal. One that is mutually beneficial.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “You want to negotiate his freedom?”
There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can really register what it is. Anger? Concern? I don’t know.
“There are no winners in a case like this,” she tells me. “Only compromises. If we can come to an agreement, we can both save ourselves months, if not years, of emotional turmoil and stress. I mean this to be a collaboration, Ms. Russo. We can both walk away from today’s conversation with some level of satisfaction.”
I highly doubt that.
“What are you proposing?” I already know whatever it is, I won’t like it.
“Three years probation and a settlement in the amount of two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars to cover any pain and suffering you’ve endured.”
My mouth drops open. Is she for real?
“You want to bribe me?”
Jaymin tuts. “Don’t think of it as a bribe.” She taps one finger against her chin. “Think of it as restitution for everything you’ve been through. A sum in this amount has the potential to significantly alter the course of your life. It could cover tuition. You can purchase your first home?—”
“I don’t care about any of that,” I snap, cutting her off. “There is no amount of money in the world you can offer me that would make up for what he did. I’m not letting him buy his way out of this.”
She purses her lips. “What is it that you want, then?”
“Jail time. That’s my bare minimum.” I won’t settle for anything less.
“He is my son?—”
“Then hold him accountable!”
Jaymin’s eyes narrow and she considers me. “If we go to trial, there’s a reasonable chance he could walk.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” I tell her. “I won’t settle for anything less than Austin behind bars.”
“One year.”
I choke on a laugh.
“Not good enough.”
“Two, and we still provide you restitution. The same amount.”
My heart races. Two years? No way. “No. Two years is nothing.”
“Alright.” She holds her arms out wide. “What do you want, then?”
Biting my lip I tell her, “Fifteen years.”
Jaymin scoffs. “That’s the maximum sentence for a second-degree murder charge. This is his first offense, and there is no evidence to show it was premeditated.”
Bullshit.
