Not so much as a speeding ticket, but I look like a killer. The defense is judging me, but I am clean as polished silver. I just look like a criminal to them.
They discuss what Tenpenner did to Kace and I ignore what I can because it makes me sick.
“Mr. Sullivan. How do you plead to the charges filed against you?” The Judge asks me, after he takes a break to review it all. I am standing beside Frank and though he might kill me, I have to say my piece.
“Your honor can I speak freely?” I ask the Judge.
“What are you doing Sam?” Frank whispers lowly to me but I ignore him.
“Please,” he says, with a wave of his hand.
“I don’t feel bad that Levi Tenpenner is dead. I can’t sit here and lie to you saying I feel bad. I feel for his family for their loss and I didn’t have any intention of killing him, let alone causing a serious injury. It happened and I feel bad it went that far, but not that it went that far if you can make sense of that. He was scum, a vile, and disgusting thing, that was wasting the air my daughter should still be breathing. That all the children he murdered should be breathing. He is who felt no guilt or remorse. I would do things differently if given the chance, but it is moot because when you are dead, you are dead. Myself, my daughter’s mother and these other families, have experienced the coldness of that truth, so I accept my part in his death, but refuse to plead guilty for anything other than my hands being the ones that killed him. Guilt means I did something wrong and there is no way you or anyone else will ever get me to see his death as a crime. I am a fucking hero, sir, all due respect, but I protected more children in killing him than the law did when he was alive.”
The gasps in the courtroom were loud as I stood my ground. I had the support of my friends and family, but also those of Tenpenner’s victims’ families and a million and one advocates defending me outside. I know I will be punished, I accept it. All I hope is that this judge see’s what I said and not the list of laws written when the world wasn’t as evil.
“Is that all Mr. Sullivan?”
“No. Actually, I have one question to ask you all. You have seen the smile on my daughter’s face, captured and suspended in time at three years old. You have seen the smiling faces of his other victims. Victim is the key word here and Levi Tenpenner is not a victim. So, tell me what would any of you done if you were in my shoes? Would anyone here consider yourself guilty of a crime had it been your child’s murderer? I am guilty of killing him, but not of any crime.”
I wait, looking at the District Attorney who a few short weeks ago was on my side. I look at the Judge and the people lining the walls of this courtroom. I know I will face time, I must. This is America and we punish. I just wonder if they will make an example of me or if they can see my side at all.
Mya
I wait on pins and needles as I squeeze Noah and Deja’s hands in mine. The man I love is asking a room full of judgmental men and women to not judge him and understand. I watch as the Judge takes his time, eying Sam, trying to see if he agrees or not. All I can hope for is his being on our side.
“It is my duty, for the great state of Washington to pass a deserving sentence to you Mr. Sullivan,” he looks at Sam, sad eyes looking into defiant ones. “Deserving in my eyes as opposed to the laws? Well, I am at a stalemate. You took a life regardless of intent you took a life. I, however, can not live with myself if I sentenced you to the maximum. I feel for you, as I do for the families that were so affected by the callousness of Mr. Tenpenner, but it is the law who decides punishment, and for that I have to sentence you.”
I can’t breathe as the tears fill my eyes knowing this judge will take the man I love from me. I hate it, knowing the suffering he endured for ten fucking years, knowing he has paid enough.
“I sentence you to eight years, the maximum sentence to be served at Olympic correction facility in Forks, Washington. I am offering you all, but twenty-four months removed for suffering. You will be in a minimum-security camp where you will work off your time served for those twenty-four months. You may be up for parole after ninety days.”
He slams that gavel down and I swear I feel it in my chest, and my tears spill over. “Sam!” I cry out as the guards cuff him like a criminal when he is a father destroyed.
He looks at me with a soft smile. “It’s alright, Pet, you’ll see.”
I shake my head no as Cal and Jen hold me up while I watch them take him from me. He couldn’t kiss me or hold me, just like a ghost. He was gone.
Mya
We leave the courthouse with Frank and his team, where we are met with a shitload of news crews and picket lines supporting Sam. Frank explains to the press the details of the sentence and the crowds went insane at the news. “This is fucking mayhem,” I say to my brother and Jen, as we try to push through to our cars. I love seeing everyone as upset as we are for his sentence, and I hope the Judge hears it and rethinks the sentence.
“We are going to the cabin for a few days to get away from the press and the shop is closed this week,” Noah explains, as we all get in different chauffeuredEscalades. “I think you should come with us until shit dies down.”
“Is Tayla’s cabin big enough?” I ask, completely numb as I discuss the size of a cabin while the man I love is sent to rot in a prison.
“We are going to Shame and Cassa’s,” he says, and I know their cabin is huge. Shamus James is the drummer in my brothers’ band and their cabin is like a ten room fortress with a guest house and security.
“Okay, yeah,” I say, and look out the window resting my head on Jenny’s shoulder. “You can stay with us. Our cabin is very close by. You know how Shame and Cal are. We have Lex with us too.”
I nod, still unable to talk.
“We are going to have Deja and Cordell with us as well as Sam’s dad and Noah and Bright,” Cal explains, and squeezes my hand.
“The guys from the shop are going to Shame’s with Chad, Carrie, and the kids,” Noah explains, and I don’t know why they think I care. I want to lock myself in the shower and cry forever. He is gone for two years with hope of only three months. I have watched enough Discovery ID to know he won’t make parole the first time. Who knows when I will see him again?
“Do you think with prison time in place he will let us visit?” I ask anyone who is listening.
“I don’t know,” Noah says quietly. “I have known Sam almost my entire life. He is stubborn and patient. If he doesn’t want to see anyone for the full twenty-four months, he won’t. It’s just how he is.”
“So where does that leave us?” I ask, desperate for answers from anyone.
“Mya, don’t focus on that right now. You are in a little shock and the last few weeks have been one fucked up intense rollercoaster. Right now, just try to let everything sink in before you worry it to death.”
My brother knows me well. He knows this is eating at me. “I love you, Cal,” I say, hoping he knows how much.
“I know, My. I love you, too. You aren’t alone in this,” he squeezes my other hand and kisses me on the head.
Then why do I feel like I am?
