Chapter 10
The morning of the hearing was gray and freezing,
with a bitter wind howling off the lake.
I drove the two hours to the state correctional facility alone,
listening to the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers.
The prison was a massive concrete fortress,
surrounded by coiled wire and harsh floodlights.
I parked my car in the visitor lot,
and I pulled my coat tightly around me.
I walked through the metal detectors,
and I handed my ID to the stone-faced guards.
They directed me to a small,
fluorescent-lit waiting room with uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Mr. Callahan met me there,
carrying a briefcase and wearing his usual serious expression.
He asked me if I was ready,
and I nodded.
We were called into the hearing room,
which looked more like a sterile classroom than a courtroom.
The parole board sat behind a long wooden table,
shuffling papers and speaking in low voices.
I took a seat near the back,
and I kept my eyes fixed on the side door.
A few minutes later,
the door opened,
and Rebecca was escorted into the room.
She wore a drab gray uniform,
and her hair was pulled back tightly.
The arrogant swing of her gold earrings was gone,
and her manicured nails were chipped and short.
But when she looked up and saw me sitting there,
her eyes flared with the same old entitlement.
She sat at the table in front of the board,
and she folded her hands neatly.
The lead commissioner read the summary of her crimes,
listing the fraud,
the forgery,
and the elder abuse.
Hearing the words spoken aloud made them real again,
and my stomach twisted.
Then,
they asked Rebecca to speak.
She stood up,
and she delivered a performance that belonged on a stage.
She cried softly,
and she talked about how much she had learned.
She said she had made terrible mistakes out of desperation,
and she claimed she was a changed woman.
She did not look at me once while she spoke,
because she knew I would see through the tears.
She painted herself as a victim of her mother's debts,
conveniently forgetting that she was the architect of the entire scheme.
The board members listened,
and one of them even nodded sympathetically.
Then,
the commissioner turned to me.
He asked if I had a statement for the record.
I stood up slowly,
smoothing the front of my skirt.
I walked to the podium,
and I adjusted the microphone.
May you like
I did not look at the board members.
I looked directly at Rebecca.
