Chapter 17 - Eight Years
Eli did not speak to Adrian for two days after learning about the sentencing recommendation.
On the third night, Adrian found him inside Elena’s music room.
The boy sat beneath the piano.
Exactly where Adrian had once collapsed.
“Can I sit?”
Eli shrugged.
Adrian sat on the floor.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Eli asked:
“Did you kill people?”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
Eli stared.
“That’s bad.”
“Yes.”
“Were you bad?”
Adrian considered.
“I did bad things.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Children, Adrian thought, were ruthless.
“Yes.”
Eli started crying.
“Why?”
“Because I thought power made people safe.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Mom died.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Rhodes got hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You got sick.”
“Yes.”
“So it didn’t work.”
“No.”
Eli wiped his face.
“You’re stupid.”
Adrian laughed painfully.
“Sometimes.”
Eli hit his shoulder.
Then hugged him.
Adrian held him.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because saying sorry only matters if you accept what you did.”
Eli cried harder.
Adrian did too.
Outside the room, Meline listened.
She did not enter.
Some conversations belonged only to fathers and sons.
Sentencing day arrived.
The courtroom overflowed.
Press.
Federal agents.
Former employees.
Victims.
Families.
Meline sat beside Eli and Norah.
Bennett behind them.
Adrian pleaded guilty to racketeering-related charges, conspiracy, illegal financial operations, and obstruction tied to acts committed before his cooperation.
His attorney spoke.
The prosecutor spoke.
Then victims spoke.
Some hated him.
They had reasons.
Meline listened.
She did not minimize them.
Adrian did not look away.
A restaurant owner described years of extortion.
A former employee described threats.
A widow described how crime between rival organizations had destroyed her family.
Adrian listened to every word.
Then he stood.
“I cannot undo what I did.”
His voice remained steady.
“I spent years believing that if I protected my own family, I could ignore the fear my organization created for others.”
He looked toward Eli.
“That was cowardice dressed as loyalty.”
The courtroom remained silent.
“I cooperated because my wife asked me, in a message she left before her murder, to end what I had helped continue.”
He paused.
“But I am not asking the court to treat that as heroism.”
Meline’s eyes filled.
“I should have changed before it cost people their safety.”
Adrian looked toward the victims.
“I am sorry.”
No excuses.
No performance.
The judge recessed.
Three hours later, everyone returned.
Meline gripped Eli’s hand.
Norah whispered:
“Breathe.”
The judge spoke for nearly twenty minutes.
Adrian’s crimes were serious.
So was his cooperation.
His evidence had dismantled multiple criminal networks, resulted in dozens of arrests, recovered millions in stolen funds, and prevented further violence.
The government had requested eight years.
The judge imposed four.
Meline gasped.
Four years.
Still terrible.
Still long.
But not eight.
With credit and programs, possibly less.
Eli sobbed.
Adrian looked toward them.
Meline smiled through tears.
Four beats.
She tapped her fingers.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Adrian breathed.
Before being taken into custody, he was allowed several minutes with family.
He hugged Eli first.
“Practice.”
“I hate practicing.”
“Good.”
Eli cried.
“Write me.”
“Every week.”
Then Norah.
She touched Adrian’s face.
“You look rested.”
He laughed.
“I finally am.”
She kissed his cheek.
“Elena would be proud.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Then Meline.
For several seconds they simply stared.
“I won’t ask you to wait,” he said.
“Good.”
His face fell slightly.
Meline continued.
“Because I’m not waiting.”
He frowned.
“I’m living.”
She touched his chest.
“You’re living too.”
“Meline—”
“We write. We visit. I finish conservatory. Eli learns piano. Norah criticizes everyone.”
“I do not,” Norah said behind them.
Everyone laughed.
Meline continued.
“Four years does not get to become another locked room.”
Adrian’s eyes filled.
“You always have an answer.”
“Premium package.”
He kissed her.
Brief.
Soft.
The officer waited respectfully.
Then Adrian whispered:
“Play the song.”
“When?”
“When you miss me.”
Meline smiled.
“That will be constantly.”
“Then you’ll become very good.”
“I already am.”
He laughed.
Then he left.
The first night Adrian spent in federal custody, he expected not to sleep.
Concrete walls.
Unfamiliar sounds.
No piano.
No Meline.
No Eli.
He lay on the narrow bed.
Then a guard delivered approved property.
A small audio player.
Bennett had arranged it through attorneys.
One recording.
Meline and Eli.
Norah’s composition.
Adrian put on headphones.
The first notes began.
His breathing slowed.
At the ending came Eli’s voice:
“Dad, you’re supposed to choose the last note.”
Then silence.
Adrian smiled.
He tapped E against the metal bedframe.
One note.
Warm.
Final.
May you like
And slept.
---
