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He sets down his glass and stares at me.
“How can you even ask that?”
“Because he wasn’t an investigative reporter, remember?” I say. “He reported the news, but he toed the company line. He enjoyed being wealthy. Maybe he would have been interested in a seat of true power.”
“Not a fucking chance, Kate. Your father cooperated with the network by necessity. If he could have been more like you, he would’ve. That’s why he’d be so proud of you now.”
I smile, taking another sip.
“Thanks, John. That means a lot.”
He nods.
“Have you been out to visit him since you came back?”
“No, not yet.”
“If you want, I could drive us out there sometime.”
“Sure,” I say. “I’d like that.”
—
I’m not surprised to receive the subpoena. It’s not necessary — I would have appeared if they’d asked. Still, I understand them taking the decision out of my hands.
The grand jury hearing all of the details from the Masters case could set a record for the longest convened jury in history when all is said and done. They’ll be impaneled together for years. They’re lucky the Masters are themselves dead, or they’d be a lot busier. They have enough people to prosecute as it is — with one standing out from the rest.
I tell the jury everything about Ingram. I’m under oath, so I can’t leave anything out or alter any facts. There are a million different charges they could level against him. Murder, kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, aggravated assault, fraud, possession of illegal weapons, property destruction… How much of it can be proven, that’s another story — to say nothing of the fact that the Enclave was technically a sovereign nation and fell under its own legal jurisdiction. It’s no wonder so much of the Masters’ business was conducted there.
It takes several days to go through everything; I break down more than once dredging up memories of men like Anton Ford, Victor Sovereign, Sidney Traves and more. I seethe when I tell them about Madeleine’s murder and Bethany’s abuse. I don’t hide my pleasure recalling when I killed Victor Sovereign. And the times I explained how Ingram taught me how to be disciplined I couldn’t mask my rosy cheeks and unconscious squirming.
I’m past the point of embarrassment by now; even in a federal legal proceeding.
“Ms. Atwood, we’ve heard your story,” says the prosecutor, Quinn Nolan, a woman somehow younger than me. “Would you like to conclude with a personal statement?”
“Yes, thank you.” I get up from my seat and look directly at Nolan, rather than the jury. I’ve done my homework; she has her own history with the powerful and corrupt.
“Back when Ingram Dent first liberated me from Anton’s control, the happiness that filled my soul few people can possibly understand.” I narrow my gaze on Nolan. I don’t want to call her out, preferring not to draw attention to the fact she could have recused herself from this case, given her past. “Ingram did for me what no one else on Earth could. But your job is to determine, what does that matter? After a lifetime of serving a cabal of ruthless criminal kingpins, can a man like Ingram Dent be redeemed? Maybe no one can truly answer that question, but I think he can.”
No matter how many times I could have practiced this, I can’t imagine I’ll convince anyone, but I have to try.
“Personally, my past has been well-documented. I’ve been in tabloids long before the Masters invaded my life. I’ve acted recklessly, and nearly suffered serious consequences. Victor Sovereign could have killed me when I first went after him — but I took a risk because I knew I had no choice. My duty to the people and the truth called on me to investigate and see the job through to the end. When Ingram recognized what was the right thing to do, he risked everything to help me. He destroyed his friendships, he put his company in jeopardy and he could have died for me — twice.”
Quinn Nolan’s expression betrays nothing — not sympathy, not disgust, understanding or contempt.
“I’m not going to pretend that I’m the right person to judge whether Ingram has paid for his sins. I know that he has more work to do if he’s to balance the scales of justice, but I think he can do so. If there’s anyone on the planet capable of making sure people like the Masters never hurt others the way they hurt me, it’s Ingram.”
When she’s sure I’m finished, Nolan says, “Thank you, Ms. Atwood. The jury will recess until our next meeting. Thank you, everyone.”
She and I wait for the jurors to leave, but before I can go she sits down next to me.
“Can we talk off the record?” she asks.
“You’re the attorney, Mrs. Nolan.”
“And you’re a reporter, Ms. Atwood.”
What the hell is this?
