Joe climbed out of the car which had transported him to the state pen sixty miles away from Bayport. He stood still for a few seconds and took a deep breath, the last free breath he would ever take for he had no doubts he would be dead once his mandatory twenty-four hour stay in solitary confinement was over.
The officer took him by the arm and led him inside. There he was escorted to the warden's office and told what was expected of him and the punishment should he disobey any rules. From there he was taken to the showers where he was made to strip. He was searched, forced to shower and then had an insecticide sprayed on him to ensure he had no lice. Then he was given two uniforms, one to wear and one to change into, then led down a corridor to a cell where he would spend the next twenty-four hours alone.
Joe sat down on the cot and pulled his knees up to his chin. Wrapping his knees with his arms, he laid his head down on his arms and cried.
***
The Hardys drove home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. At home, Frank went to Joe's room and sat down on his bed. Looking around, he felt tears well in his eyes and he hastily wiped at them. This was pointless, he knew. He sniffed and stood up. He could not mourn his brother for twenty-five years. Not even for the year he had to serve before coming up for a parole. He left the room, closing the door.
He started down the hall to his dad's office but stopped when he heard his mother crying and his father trying to comfort her in their room. Instead, he went downstairs to the living room and sat down in the chair by the table which held the phone. He took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. He punched in Callie's phone number.
"Hello?" he heard her answer on the second ring.
"Hi, Callie," Frank said, his voice heavy with the emotion he was trying to contain.
"Frank? How did it go?" she asked him. "Did the judge order more tests? When will his trial begin?"
"He's... he's not going to have a trial," Frank said, his voice breaking. "He pleaded guilty. He's...he's been taken to the state penitentiary," he ended, giving up and letting the tears slide unchecked down his cheeks.
"Oh, baby," Callie whispered, her own sorrow evident in her voice. "I'll be right over," she promised, hanging up.
She arrived in less than thirty minutes, her brown eyes bloodshot from the tears she had shed on the way over. She, too, knew that if by some miracle Joe wasn't killed in prison, then he would most likely be raped. Joe had always been a good person. He wasn't capable of hurting anyone. At least, not intentionally. He had to of been insane at the time. There was no other explanation.
Frank was waiting outside on the front porch when she arrived. She parked her car and got out. Frank ran down the steps to meet her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, letting him find what comfort he could in her. She could only imagine how hard this was on him. He and Joe were so close. To have him taken away must be devastating.
A little later, the two went for a walk. They stopped at the park, sitting down on the swings. Callie waited for Frank to say something. She was really starting to worry about him because he hadn't said one word to her since she had hung up the phone.
"I just can't believe it," Frank said, finally breaking the silence. "I can't believe he's gone," he added, his haunted eyes looking at her. "They're going to kill him in there."
"Maybe not," Callie said, trying to comfort him. "I mean, they think he's gone bad since he tried to kill someone and they might accept him."
"Joe didn't try to kill anyone," Frank denied, more from loyalty than any belief he felt. He had seen the evidence. Had heard Joe talk about Billings. And worse, had heard Joe admit to being guilty.
"You don't believe that," Callie told him. "If you did, then you would have tried to find who framed him."
Frank looked at her, his vision blurring. Joe had said basically the same thing. Had he and his dad tried hard enough to clear Joe? By believing him guilty, had they done everything possible to get him cleared. The answer was an overwhelming NO.
"Oh, my God," Frank cried out in anguish, dropping his head into his hands and crying. It was his fault. Joe was innocent and in prison because his own brother and father hadn't done what they would have for any client they had ever had. Was that why Joe had pled guilty? Because they hadn't believed him, he thought no one else would? He stood up, grabbed Callie's arm, and set off at a brisk pace back home.
"I've got to talk to Dad," Frank said when they reached her car. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for coming over," he said.
"Sure," she said, looking at him curiously. "If you need me, just call."
"I'll call you later anyway," he promised, giving her the best smile he could muster.
As Callie climbed in her car and drove away, Frank went back inside and hurried up the stairs to his parents bedroom. "Dad, I need to talk to you," Frank said, feeling a bit guilty for dragging him away from his mother at this time but they had to get Joe out before his solitary confinement period was up or it might be too late.
Fenton left Laura and the two went down the hall to his office. "Dad, we have to get Joe out of there," Frank said sitting down in front of his father's desk.
"Son, there isn't anything we can do now," Fenton began softly. "Felix suggested Joe be tested again but the truth of the matter is, what Joe did was wrong and he knew it. That's why he..."
"He didn't do it," Frank said. "Joe was right. We thought he was guilty so we didn't do everything we could to help him."
"What?" Fenton demanded in disbelief. "Frank we did everything possible."
"We didn't find who would want to frame Joe," Frank said. "We looked at the evidence. We talked to people. We tried to find someone who had something against Billings but we never looked for someone who would kill Billings just to frame Joe."
"Oh, my God," Fenton gasped, realizing Frank was right. No wonder Joe hadn't wanted to see them again.
"We have to start looking now," Frank said.
Before Fenton could agree, the doorbell rang. They left the office and went to see who it was, prepared to get rid of them as soon as possible so they could get busy on finding who framed Joe.
"Fenton, we have a major problem," said the man who stood on the other side of the door.
"Major Donalds," Fenton acknowledged the man, stepping aside and letting him enter.
"We have a terrorist threat in LA and we have had no luck in pinpointing the location of their headquarters," the major began.
"I'm sorry," Fenton said, interrupting. "I can't take on anything now. My son needs me."
"I appreciate that," the major said. "But, Fenton, if this isn't stopped by the day after tomorrow, hundreds of thousands of people could die."
"You go," Frank told his father. He really wanted his dad's help, but they couldn't let so many people be killed. "I'll work on this."
"He's going to need you," Major Donalds told him. "I'm sorry. I know this is the worst time imaginable for you but as I said, if you don't help, lots of people will die."
Frank closed his eyes. Forgive me Baby Brother. He nodded his acquiescence.
The officer took him by the arm and led him inside. There he was escorted to the warden's office and told what was expected of him and the punishment should he disobey any rules. From there he was taken to the showers where he was made to strip. He was searched, forced to shower and then had an insecticide sprayed on him to ensure he had no lice. Then he was given two uniforms, one to wear and one to change into, then led down a corridor to a cell where he would spend the next twenty-four hours alone.
Joe sat down on the cot and pulled his knees up to his chin. Wrapping his knees with his arms, he laid his head down on his arms and cried.
***
The Hardys drove home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. At home, Frank went to Joe's room and sat down on his bed. Looking around, he felt tears well in his eyes and he hastily wiped at them. This was pointless, he knew. He sniffed and stood up. He could not mourn his brother for twenty-five years. Not even for the year he had to serve before coming up for a parole. He left the room, closing the door.
He started down the hall to his dad's office but stopped when he heard his mother crying and his father trying to comfort her in their room. Instead, he went downstairs to the living room and sat down in the chair by the table which held the phone. He took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. He punched in Callie's phone number.
"Hello?" he heard her answer on the second ring.
"Hi, Callie," Frank said, his voice heavy with the emotion he was trying to contain.
"Frank? How did it go?" she asked him. "Did the judge order more tests? When will his trial begin?"
"He's... he's not going to have a trial," Frank said, his voice breaking. "He pleaded guilty. He's...he's been taken to the state penitentiary," he ended, giving up and letting the tears slide unchecked down his cheeks.
"Oh, baby," Callie whispered, her own sorrow evident in her voice. "I'll be right over," she promised, hanging up.
She arrived in less than thirty minutes, her brown eyes bloodshot from the tears she had shed on the way over. She, too, knew that if by some miracle Joe wasn't killed in prison, then he would most likely be raped. Joe had always been a good person. He wasn't capable of hurting anyone. At least, not intentionally. He had to of been insane at the time. There was no other explanation.
Frank was waiting outside on the front porch when she arrived. She parked her car and got out. Frank ran down the steps to meet her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, letting him find what comfort he could in her. She could only imagine how hard this was on him. He and Joe were so close. To have him taken away must be devastating.
A little later, the two went for a walk. They stopped at the park, sitting down on the swings. Callie waited for Frank to say something. She was really starting to worry about him because he hadn't said one word to her since she had hung up the phone.
"I just can't believe it," Frank said, finally breaking the silence. "I can't believe he's gone," he added, his haunted eyes looking at her. "They're going to kill him in there."
"Maybe not," Callie said, trying to comfort him. "I mean, they think he's gone bad since he tried to kill someone and they might accept him."
"Joe didn't try to kill anyone," Frank denied, more from loyalty than any belief he felt. He had seen the evidence. Had heard Joe talk about Billings. And worse, had heard Joe admit to being guilty.
"You don't believe that," Callie told him. "If you did, then you would have tried to find who framed him."
Frank looked at her, his vision blurring. Joe had said basically the same thing. Had he and his dad tried hard enough to clear Joe? By believing him guilty, had they done everything possible to get him cleared. The answer was an overwhelming NO.
"Oh, my God," Frank cried out in anguish, dropping his head into his hands and crying. It was his fault. Joe was innocent and in prison because his own brother and father hadn't done what they would have for any client they had ever had. Was that why Joe had pled guilty? Because they hadn't believed him, he thought no one else would? He stood up, grabbed Callie's arm, and set off at a brisk pace back home.
"I've got to talk to Dad," Frank said when they reached her car. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for coming over," he said.
"Sure," she said, looking at him curiously. "If you need me, just call."
"I'll call you later anyway," he promised, giving her the best smile he could muster.
As Callie climbed in her car and drove away, Frank went back inside and hurried up the stairs to his parents bedroom. "Dad, I need to talk to you," Frank said, feeling a bit guilty for dragging him away from his mother at this time but they had to get Joe out before his solitary confinement period was up or it might be too late.
Fenton left Laura and the two went down the hall to his office. "Dad, we have to get Joe out of there," Frank said sitting down in front of his father's desk.
"Son, there isn't anything we can do now," Fenton began softly. "Felix suggested Joe be tested again but the truth of the matter is, what Joe did was wrong and he knew it. That's why he..."
"He didn't do it," Frank said. "Joe was right. We thought he was guilty so we didn't do everything we could to help him."
"What?" Fenton demanded in disbelief. "Frank we did everything possible."
"We didn't find who would want to frame Joe," Frank said. "We looked at the evidence. We talked to people. We tried to find someone who had something against Billings but we never looked for someone who would kill Billings just to frame Joe."
"Oh, my God," Fenton gasped, realizing Frank was right. No wonder Joe hadn't wanted to see them again.
"We have to start looking now," Frank said.
Before Fenton could agree, the doorbell rang. They left the office and went to see who it was, prepared to get rid of them as soon as possible so they could get busy on finding who framed Joe.
"Fenton, we have a major problem," said the man who stood on the other side of the door.
"Major Donalds," Fenton acknowledged the man, stepping aside and letting him enter.
"We have a terrorist threat in LA and we have had no luck in pinpointing the location of their headquarters," the major began.
"I'm sorry," Fenton said, interrupting. "I can't take on anything now. My son needs me."
"I appreciate that," the major said. "But, Fenton, if this isn't stopped by the day after tomorrow, hundreds of thousands of people could die."
"You go," Frank told his father. He really wanted his dad's help, but they couldn't let so many people be killed. "I'll work on this."
"He's going to need you," Major Donalds told him. "I'm sorry. I know this is the worst time imaginable for you but as I said, if you don't help, lots of people will die."
Frank closed his eyes. Forgive me Baby Brother. He nodded his acquiescence.