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Mr. Chapman shook his head.
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s stubborn and prideful, and he is worried that if he tells them where he was, he’ll lose his job.”
Megan’s mind tried to put together the pieces but was coming up short. “Did he do something worse?”
“The army hasn’t always been supportive of mental health. They say they are, but he still worries that if they find out he’s in therapy and trauma treatment, he could lose his job.”
First, she didn’t understand, but annoyance was quickly followed by rising anger.
“But it’s because of the army he has trauma. He got it from his deployments. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Mission first. He wants to stay deployable. If he can’t be counted on with a weapon or in a high stress situation, then he can’t do his job. Troy didn’t want to tell me, but it all came out one night. Apparently, a lot of soldiers keep it a secret and try to handle things on their own.”
“He’s not doing well, then?” Megan didn’t need the answer to know the truth but held her breath as he started to speak.
Mr. Chapman looked at the floor and squinted, trying to reconcile a painful memory. “He was screaming. I woke up, heard something fall, and went in to find him screaming on the floor. He was holding his head, crouched up in a ball. So much pain. I just held him. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed him and held on. Hadn’t held him since he was a boy. We talked about it that morning. He’s scared he will lose his job, his benefits, his retirement. All because he might not be deployable. He defines himself by his job. Committed. Like I said. Stubborn. He tried to reach out to someone local on the day of the attack.”
“But that’s not right. None of that is right. What if they convict him? Why won’t he tell them if he was somewhere else?”
“He did, but he isn’t sharing where. Fifth amendment. Always a fan of history and the Constitution.”
“God, how can he be so stubborn?”
Mr. Chapman just shook his head. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing we can do if he doesn’t want to disclose his alibi.”
“When is the arraignment?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Have you spoken with him?”
“Once. He didn’t sound like himself. Told me not to bond him out, and save the money instead.”
“What about his lawyer? If we could let his lawyer know…” Her voice trailed off when Mr. Chapman shook his head.
“I thought about that, but if Troy doesn’t want his records disclosed then there is no proof of his whereabouts on that day. He doesn’t want anyone to know. I’m sure it’ll work out despite that. There can’t be any actual proof he was the attacker, since we know he was somewhere else.”
She wasn’t convinced.
Megan tried to push the thought out of her mind with a sad feeling of regret at him being wrongfully forced to go through a trial. She shouldn’t feel the way she did, but everything about it was wrong from start to finish. He was too stubborn and prideful to end the whole thing. There was no shame in getting help. There shouldn’t be. Especially when the alternative was sitting in a jail cell waiting for the court system to get it all straightened out. She too had seen how much pain he had. Clearly, it hadn’t gotten better. To be punished more was an added insult.
Mr. Chapman distracted her from her racing thoughts by patting her hand.
“Keep going,” he said, pointing at the book. “There’s something else I want you to see.”
There was one last slip of paper tucked in the yearbook toward the back. She peeled the page back, revealing the signatures.
A quick skim took her breath away.
Right there was a handwritten half-page letter to Mr. Chapman from her dad. The letters were in blue ink, in the clumsy writing of a high school boy. The script had an odd tilt to it as if he had written in a hurry or on something unsteady. Megan ran her hand over the ink on the page as she scoured the message again and again before going back a third time, reading through her tears.
Hank,
I can’t believe it’s the end of the year already! I’m going to miss playing with you on the court. Hopefully you can come out next year and cheer us on.
I really want to thank you for all of our talks after practice. I decided to ask Jenny out to get a milkshake because of everything you said. You were right. You can’t let fear run your life. Thanks for all the good advice on and off the court. I owe you one.
