Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DEAN
I ’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching for a drink. It’s only because Juliette isn’t with me. She’s in Adare seeing her therapist while I sit in this antique courthouse, awaiting my fate.
This place isn’t what I expected. I thought it would be like the big, dramatic trials I see on TV. I assumed what I did was serious. But there are only two security guards—one inside the courtroom and another in the hallway. Considering how they hauled me out of the airport, I thought I’d have more security.
But no. I’ve been sitting here on this bench for hours, waiting for my turn to step into the lion’s den. I was told to be here at eight-thirty this morning, just like everyone else. If I’d known it would take this long, I would’ve gone with Juliette to Adare. I could’ve driven her and PJ to the penthouse, even if it was just to drop them off with a quick goodbye. That’s precious time I missed because of this bullshit. And I can’t even text or talk to her since my phone was taken at the front—thanks to the court’s no-phone policy.
I’ve watched a lot of people come and go today. Some go in and don’t come back out. I can only hope that’s not my fate today. Is the lack of security a good or bad sign for how much trouble I’m in?
The anxiety is getting to me. Waiting for so long is making it worse. Seven hours—that feels like an eternity being away from her. I’m so in my head that I’m increasingly worried about jail time. My only goal today is to keep out of jail.
I can’t risk going to jail and damaging all the progress I made with PJ. He’s really started to like me after I beat Arnie up, even more now that he’s seen my classic car. Strange reasons, if you ask me, but I don’t care. I’m just happy he’s giving me a chance to be a father—a real father. His father.
My knee bounces uncontrollably. I can’t fuck this up now. If I were a religious man, I might be on my knees praying. I’ve never believed in any of that, but right now, I feel like begging karma not to bite me in the ass. Not now. Not yet. I need more time.
A loud bang echoes down the hallway—someone’s being let in. I can’t see who yet. The benches for the “criminals” are around the corner, away from the benches for families and victims.
Grandpa offered to come with me so I wouldn’t be alone, but I feel like this is something I need to face alone. It’s time to look my demons in the eyes and confront them head-on. I’ll be honest, it’s scary as hell. But I have to be held accountable if I’m ever going to be a man worthy of Juliette. I need to get a handle on my fucking life. I’ve let things spiral for too long.
“Dean Walsh,” the security guard finally calls my name. “Your turn.”
My nerves spike as I stand from the bench. From experience, I know sometimes you have to do the scary thing no matter how scared you are because that’s the only way change can come. It starts with a little courage.
My feet feel like they’re walking through wet cement. Each step is heavier than the last. As I approach, the doors seem huge, pointed like the teeth of a dragon. How fitting.
The security guard pulls the door open for me. I hesitate to cross the threshold.
“Go,” he instructs, his voice firmer than before—much less kind. It’s the kick in the ass I need. Taking a deep breath, I step into the room. It’s mostly empty besides the judge, a security guard, and two guys in ties. They all turn to me as the door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing through the room.
“Dean,” the judge says. “Come in.”
I walk down the aisle toward the tables where everyone is gathered, except the judge. The guard waits for me, swinging the little gate open as I get closer.
“Sit there,” he points to a table on the left.
There’s one empty chair right next to one of the lawyers. Just a wild guess, but by the tie and the fact there are two of them, it seems safe. Quietly, I make my way to the empty seat and sit down.
“I’m Doyle Brown. Your grandfather hired me to be your attorney,” the guy next to me says.
“My grandpa failed to mention he hired someone. Nice to meet you.”
A loud bang brings everyone to silence. The judge places her gavel back down and looks at us, more specifically at the other lawyer.
“You may begin, Seamus.”
She must see him a lot, and by the tone of her voice, she’s not his biggest fan.
“Thank you, Judge Callaway. As you all know, we’re here because the defendant,” he stands, just looking at me, “savagely beat the victim.”
“That’s a strong word,” I interject.
My lawyer cuts his eyes to me, disapproval radiating off him.
“Are you saying what you did was okay, Mr. Walsh?” Judge Callaway asks.
“No ma’am. Not at all. I know what I did was wrong, and I’m ready to accept the consequences, whatever they may be. But I also want the truth to be told.”
“And you feel as if Mr. Barnes is lying?”
“Yes. I didn’t savagely beat him. I punched him twice—in the nose.”
“You broke his nose,” Seamus says. “That sounds savage to me.”
“I’m not here to discuss if the incident is savage or not. We’re here to bring this case to a resolution everyone can agree on. Let’s move on.”
“As I was saying, the defendant broke the victim’s nose in what can only be described as a drunken rage.”
The balding lawyer continues, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. I keep my mouth shut because that’s the only fact he’s presented since I sat down.
“Objection,” Doyle finally steps in. “Mr. Barnes was not there the day this incident happened. To call it a drunken rage is nothing more than speculation.”
“I have evidence.”
“Then present it or get to your point.”
Judge Callaway doesn’t hide the irritation on her face as the lawyer fumbles with the TV remote. How did this guy pass law school, let alone become a prosecutor? I scan the courtroom, waiting for the idiot to turn the screen on. I’m surprised to see the victim is nowhere to be seen.
“Why isn’t the guy I hit here?” I ask my lawyer.
He shrugs. “We don’t need him.”
My eyebrows furrow, but I leave it alone. I’d assume this would require both sides. Doom curdles in my gut. Something feels off. Are they going to railroad me into something here?
The screen flickers to life with a grainy video. Gritty or not, you can clearly see me screaming at the guy before hitting him twice.
“See? A drunken rage,” the prosecutor says, smiling.
Of course, he thinks he’s won something. I never denied my part in the act. I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince here.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes, we can see that. Thank you,” the judge huffs, her eyes landing on me. “Mr. Walsh, what do you have to say?”
I glance at my lawyer, unsure if I’m supposed to talk. He wasn’t happy when I spoke before.
“My client?—”
“Can talk,” the judge interrupts.
My lawyer nods at me.
“Mr. Barnes is going a little too far out of his way to prove something I never denied.”
“Are you remorseful?”
“Of course. The guy didn’t deserve to get punched. He was just doing his job, and if he were here today, I’d apologize.”
The judge sits back, contemplating my words.
“And Seamus, what is your recommendation?”
“Five years.”
My heart drops. “Five years in prison?”
“Where else?” he sneers.
“Judge Callaway,” my lawyer begins, “five years is a bit much, don’t you think?”
“It’s a standard punishment,” Mr. Barnes says. “But I’m willing to make a deal.”
“What are the terms?”
“Restitution and pay all the court costs.”
I open my mouth to agree, but my lawyer holds up a palm.
“How much restitution?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“That’s asinine. Fifty thousand dollars for a broken nose? It sounds like you know Mr. Walsh has a well-off family and you’re looking for a payday.”
The other lawyer scoffs. “That’s outrageous. I’m offended you’d even suggest that.”
“We’re not settling at fifty thousand. You’re out of your mind.”
“I’ll pay it,” I interject.
Doyle’s eyes almost pop out of his head. I can see why. Fifty thousand dollars is an insane amount, but I can afford it. I’ll have to work for my grandfather, but that’s a small price to pay to get out of this mess. Whatever brings me home to Juliette and PJ the quickest.
“Perfect,” Seamus replies. “Thank the Lord one of you has a brain.”
I fight the urge to smack the smug look off his face. What’s the point? It’d only land me in more trouble. But fuck, I bet it would feel really good.
The pounding sound of the gavel rings through the air.
“I’m so glad you all worked that out. But next time, do it outside of my courtroom. This was a waste of my time, and I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.”
“Of course, Judge Callaway. I’m sorry. It was not my intention to waste the court’s time.”
The court falls silent as we wait for Judge Callaway to sign off on the order. My breath stalls as I watch her hand move, only releasing once her signature is finished. Finally. Only one more thing to do, and then I’m free of this mess.
My lawyer stands and packs up his briefcase after the judge dismisses us. “Seamus will need a check before you leave here.”
“Who has checks nowadays?”
It’s a legitimate question. I’m not sure I’ve ever carried around a checkbook.
“I’ll accept a wire transfer as well,” Mr. Barnes interrupts. “Most of it will be going to the victim anyway.”
“Most?”
“Minus court fees,” he retorts.
The three of us leave the courtroom. Doyle and I follow Seamus back to his office. It takes us twenty minutes to complete the wire transfer and get out of there. When I step out of the courthouse into the rainy Dublin day, I feel rejuvenated. A new man, if you will. The love of my life is going to marry me. My legal problems are solved, and my kid is starting to like me. My life is perfect.