The charges against me are serious, classified as domestic terrorism, even though I don’t have a record.
Everything points to me. Literally everything. Even the fact that I was financially supporting the organization is being used by the prosecutor as proof that I was the real man behind it, while the others were just helping me.
What hurts the most is Marcel’s testimony.
He submits a chat conversation with Edgar as evidence, clearly staged, dated before the incident. In it, he’s convincing Edgar that they should both back out because the plan is dangerous and could hurt people. I stare at the screenshots my lawyer shows me and realize that both Edgar and Marcel had actually considered the possibility of getting caught, and prepared a way to shift all the blame onto… me.
The loser.
Unbelievable. What a pair of bastards.
The truth swallows me like ice water. From the start, I was nobody to them, just a resource, a fallback, a convenient scapegoat in case anything went wrong.
I can’t present anything similar in my defense. Marcel never texted me about anything related to the group. Everything was handled in person during meetings. He was careful.
I have a great lawyer thanks to Rocco Ferro’s money, but Marcel and Edgar have equally strong representation, paid for by Edgar’s father.
They’re shaping the case so it all points back to me, and the whole group is singing the same tune, all of them turning on me.
The list is long. Breaking and entering, since I opened the door using my hacking skills. Carrying the fuel canisters. Buying the van. Financing their other actions. It all piles up over my head. I know there’s no way out of this without doing time, and what I’m looking at isn't optimistic. If my lawyer weren’t using the fact that I got people out of the building as a mitigating factor, I could be facing even more years.
Frankly, when I hear all of this, I take it in with this strange numbness. I’m not even surprised they made me the fall guy. I feel like one. A naive idiot. A pathetic simp who fell for a passionate activist and let himself get caught in the web he spun.
What can I do? I broke my father’s heart, his past in the police being like a painful exclamation point in my conscience. I broke my dad’s heart too, and he came to this country from Russia hoping for a calmer, better, safer life.
And now his son threw it all away and ended up behind bars.
To be honest, I barely take part in the meetings with my lawyer. My father handles most of it, building the defense strategy, talking to people he knows, making sure everything is done right. I just sit there like a puppet being moved around. Ican’t even look him in the eye when he visits. I stare at the table, at my hands, answering under my breath.
That’s how the first weeks pass, then the first month, then the second. My trial is getting closer, and there’s still no plea deal on the table.
I feel… there’s no point even putting it into words. Everything is ruined. My final year of college just started, and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to finish it. I was majoring in cybersecurity, though that hardly matters now.
???
On that particular day, I have a meeting scheduled with my father. I don’t even know what he wants to talk about. I’m lost in all the strategies he’s been putting together.
Soon enough, the guards take me out of my cell, cuff me, and walk me to the meeting room.
Inside, there’s my lawyer, my father, and, to my surprise, someone I didn’t expect to see there.
My cousin, Winter Nolan.
I’m close with his side of our family, spent a lot of time at their house growing up, but I don’t really know Winter. He’s thirteen years older than me, so we never had much in common.
I sit down and fix my eyes on him.
Winter looks almost like an albino. Pale gray eyes, platinum hair, a cold, sharp kind of beauty.
"Hey," I mutter, feeling stupid. I don’t know why, but ever since the day I was arrested, I’ve felt most ashamed in front of family. Talking about my case with strangers doesn’t do much to me, but with relatives?
It’s like I’m just proving everything they always thought about me, a loser, a total failure, a useless waste of space, some idiot who got himself dragged into a crime.
Suddenly I hear my lawyer clear his throat. "Gabriel, we’ve got a development in the case."
He’s from one of the top firms in the city, a rival to the one representing Edgar and Marcel. He’s treating my case like a personal challenge, but it’s not an easy one. Their cases are much simpler. They’re probably looking at probation, testifying freely, walking around campus while I sit in county jail.
"Hey, Gabriel," Winter says. "You’re probably surprised to see me here." His face is calm, no judgment, no contempt. Just that steady composure he always had, and I find myself oddly grateful for it.
