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“Believe it or not, I started out wanting to prosecute,” he admits with a grin. “I went into law wanting to be the guy who puts away all the bad guys. I wanted to clean up the world.”
“And instead you end up setting them free,” I muse. “What went wrong?”
“Who said anything went wrong?” He laughs. “Not everything is black and white, Lacey. Each case is different and has to be treated differently, but the law doesn’t always see it that way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, still not able to comprehend how he can be so comfortable with helping people like Duane.
“Last month I represented a woman charged with culpable driving. She was drunk and a three-year-old was killed. Throw the book at her, right? Give her the maximum twenty-year sentence?”
I nod, but I know there’s more coming.
“What if I told you she was a mother of two, and that she’d been drinking because her mother had just died, only two weeks after she’d lost her father?” He turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “Then, what if I also told you that the three-year-old killed was her little girl?”
Oh shit. I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor woman, and I know that’s his intention. Not a day would go by where she wouldn’t blame herself for her daughter’s death. That in itself is almost punishment enough. No amount of prison could beat that.
“See where I’m going with this? Would you want her to get the same sentence as a guy who has a long history of DUIs, who is driving on a suspended license?”
“No,” I admit.
“That’s why I love my job,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
“But it’s hardly the same. You can’t compare that scenario to Duane Fairgone,” I argue.
“Maybe not, but all I’m saying is you don’t really know what’s going on until you understand the circumstances. The fact is, if I can help one person the system might otherwise swallow up, then it’s worth it.”
“Even if it means the Duane Fairgones end up back out there in the world?” I retort. “I’m guessing you don’t have a daughter.”
He glances at me, and I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes. Too far, Lacey.
“I think we should change the subject before this gets too heated,” he says, his voice light. “But I love your passion, Lacey. That’s something you can’t learn.”
The rest of the drive we travel in silence, but not the awkward kind. We’re both just lost in thought. At some point I fall asleep, waking up just as we’re entering the town. Yawning, I stretch out as best as I can. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I’m horrified when I realize I’ve been drooling. I quickly wipe the corner of my mouth and straighten myself in my seat.
We pull into the parking lot of the centre just before one. Getting out, I stretch my arms and yawn. It feels like we’ve been driving all day. I follow Aaron over to the front entrance, taking in what is one of the most secure institutions in the country. From the outside, it doesn’t look like the home for some of the world’s most dangerous criminals. It looks almost inviting. I shudder, rubbing my fingers over the goose bumps on my arms.
We move through three security ports before we get inside. At the last, I’m asked to stand against the wall and look straight ahead. My heart pounds as a red laser moves slowly across my face.
“What’s this?” I ask nervously. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Eye scan,” Aaron explains. “In case you go missing.” My eyes widen and he laughs. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen often.”
We’re led to a small room with a large window that looks into another room. The other room is brightly lit and contains only a table. Aaron explains what is going to happen, but I’m only half listening, because the door is opening and I can see Duane being led into the room. He turns and stares through the glass, as though he can see me. I shiver, even though I know all he sees is a mirror. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and they’re void of any emotion. He almost looks drugged. He probably is. He’s in a high-security psychiatric prison. If he wasn’t sedated, I’d be surprised.
“It feels like he can see you, doesn’t it?” Aaron asks.
I nod, unable to draw my eyes away from Duane. I can’t believe I’m standing metres from someone capable of doing such horrendous things… things Allie was subjected to.
I look down, a wave of nausea washing over me. Aaron eyes me, concerned. He pulls a chair over for me to sit on. Thankfully, I fall onto the seat and try not to think about Allie, which is a near-impossible task.
“The first time is always the hardest. It does get easier,” Aaron assures me.
Does it? I can’t imagine how.
The entire process takes less than an hour, and I do find myself feeling less affected by everything. It’s almost like I’m watching an episode of Law and Order, and I keep expecting Olivia Benson to come bursting through the door.
After the assessment, Aaron insists on debriefing me to make sure I’m okay.
“So, what now?” I ask as we leave. We walk over to his car and get in.
