Page 216 of Titus

The knock came just after eight in the morning. I glanced up from the legal pad on the table, knowing it was another meeting with my attorneys. After two weeks in the place, the routine had become predictable. Painfully predictable.

I woke up. I ate. I waited. I met with my attorneys. I waited some more. Then I went to sleep, woke up the next morning, and did it all over again.

All my days had just eventually started to blend together.

“Hawk,” the correctional officer said, opening the door. “Visitors.”

I nodded and stood, falling into routine, and five minutes later, I walked into the attorney conference room.

The moment I entered the room, I could tell something was different. No one looked exhausted or frustrated. None of them looked like they’d spent the past ten days fighting an uphill battle against the federal government with both arms tied behind their backs.

Hell, for the first time since my arrest, every attorney in the room looked relaxed and, dare I say, hopeful.

I sat, and my lead attorney, Jonathan Pierce, gave a genuine smile that immediately caught my attention.

“What happened?” I asked.

Evelyn Hart slid a thick folder across the table. “Your brother, Colton, made us aware that he’d met with an old friend of yours, Mark Aster.”

“Mark?” I said, not expecting to hear that name come up in relation to this.

“Yes, sir,” Jonathan said. “The papers in that file are thirty years’ worth of corporate records, ownership structures, and asset transfers.”

I glanced down at the file.

Evelyn folded her hands on the table. “What you’re looking at isn’t evidence that exonerates you.”

“The records don’t prove you’re innocent,” Jonathan added.

I leaned back. “Then why am I looking at them?”

Jonathan reached forward and opened the file. “Because they prove something far more important.” He turned several pages, then stopped on a series of corporate restructuring records. “These are all transactions authorized after you became CEO.”

I glanced down, recognizing my signature, the dates, the entities, and the audits I’d called for. Most of it looked vaguely familiar.

Jonathan tapped the pages. “These papers show that every time you discovered a structure tied to Herbert Hawk’s era,” his finger moved to another page, “you dismantled it and disclosed it.”

Evelyn slid another stack toward me. “The government’s argument has never been that Herbert created the entities but that you knew about them.”

“Correct,” I confirmed.

“And since the government’s detention argument rests on the assumption that a man in your position had to know those entities existed,” Jonathan added, “these documents will challenge that assumption.”

I glanced down. “How?”

Evelyn smiled. “Your behavior and history of dismantling those companies.” I frowned while she continued, “Prosecutors build cases using behavior patterns all the time.”

Jonathan nodded. “If a man discovers hidden entities and repeatedly destroys them,” he tapped the file, “his behavior indicates he isn’t protecting them.”

I stared at the paperwork as Evelyn leaned forward. “Mr. Hawk, the records show a fifteen-year pattern.”

“If you were intentionally concealing Herbert’s structures,” Jonathan added, “why would you spend fifteen years dismantling every other structure you found?”

“Well, that question answers itself in the documentation,” I answered.

“And that’s exactly what we argued.”

I looked between them. “You filed a motion based on this?”