Chapter 31. An Unexpected Flip Project #2
Though Maisy’s camera had captured Thad Gentry’s car leaving the crime scene and he’d acted guilty as sin on his second arrest, Gentry had yet to admit he’d killed Tyler Yee.
His trial was scheduled to begin in late August, just prior to Labor Day and, ironically, the day my baby was due.
Collin and I met up with Gail and Buck at the courthouse to attend the trial together.
Not only did we want to see the man convicted, but the prosecutor planned to call me as a witness.
I only hoped my water wouldn’t break in the witness stand. That would be embarrassing!
The jurors had been chosen the day before, and they sat in the jury box, eyeing Gentry and sizing him up.
I noticed he wore a basic navy-blue suit today, and that it didn’t fit as well as the others I’d seen him wear before.
It appeared he’d purchased this one off the rack to look less like a wealthy real estate tycoon and more like a regular guy the jurors could relate to.
As we sat in the first row with Bianca, I felt an odd sensation across my abdomen, as if someone was tightening a wide belt around me. Is this a contraction?
I’d hardly had time to process the thought when Devin and Bess Carmichael walked up the aisle. “Thad,” Devin called over the gate that separated the parties from the gallery, “may Bess and I speak with you for a moment?”
Gentry’s attorney appeared annoyed by the interruption but, when Gentry stood, he stood, too. They stepped outside the courtroom to speak with the Carmichaels. I wonder what that’s all about.
I felt the tightening again as they returned a few minutes later.
Gentry appeared less nervous than he had earlier.
Same for his lawyer. Again, I was left to wonder, both about what they’d discussed outside the courtroom and whether I was actually in labor or merely having Braxton Hicks contractions.
They were far apart and didn’t hurt. Is this false labor or the real thing?
I didn’t have to wonder long, at least about what Gentry and the Carmichaels had discussed. The bailiff ordered us to rise as the judge entered. Once she’d taken her seat on the bench, those of us in the gallery also sat down.
Gentry’s attorney said, “May I approach the bench, your honor?”
“Sure.” The judge waved him forward.
The prosecutor went to the judge’s bench with Gentry’s attorney. The three huddled and spoke in hushed tones. Though I strained to hear, I couldn’t quite make things out.
After a few minutes, the judge raised her head. “Mr. Gentry, your attorney tells me that you have decided to change your plea to guilty. Is that correct?”
Gentry slowly stood, swaying slightly on his feet as if overcome with emotion. “Yes, your honor,” he said, his voice soft and shaky. “My pastor convinced me that coming clean is the right thing to do to unburden my soul and get right with God.”
His attorney clarified that the guilty plea was to a charge of voluntary manslaughter, not second-degree murder, which was the charge being pursued by the prosecutor.
From being married to a homicide detective and having come across bodies before, I knew that voluntary manslaughter meant that the killing was not premeditated, but was committed in a state of passion arising from the defendant being so provoked as to act in an irrational manner.
In other words, the particular offense placed some blame on the victim.
The punishments varied, too. Second-degree murder came with a sentence of up to sixty years in prison and a fifty-thousand-dollar fine, but the maximum sentence for voluntary manslaughter in Tennessee was half that, thirty years in jail and a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine.
Gentry cleared his throat. “I didn’t set out to kill Tyler Yee, your honor.
I didn’t bring a weapon with me or make a plan in advance, or ever have a conscious thought about killing him.
When he asked for the interview, he suggested we meet at River Valley Ranch after he met with Gail Pittman and Whitney Whitaker about the remodeling plans for her barn.
But I was curious about the remodel, too, and wanted another chance to try to convince Ms. Pittman to sell to me, so I arranged to meet Tyler at the barn instead.
We arrived early so we could talk before the others showed up.
He accused me of intentionally defrauding people I’d bought real estate from.
He said he’d interviewed several sources he planned to feature in his articles and podcast.” He paused for a moment, collecting himself before speaking again, his voice now tight and raspy.
“Tyler Yee would have ruined me. I warned him not to publish anything negative about me or my businesses. When he said, ‘You can’t stop me,’ I …
well, I came unglued. The pitchfork was right there, leaning against the barn, and I just picked it up and…
” He shook his head and barked a sob, unable to finish his sentence.
He didn’t have to. It was clear what followed.
I wasn’t sure if Gentry had admitted fault because he truly wanted to unburden his soul, or if this was his way of trying to negotiate a better deal.
I didn’t trust the guy one bit. Either way, the prosecutor agreed to accept the guilty plea.
But if Gentry thought pleading guilty would encourage the judge to go easy on him, he’d been wrong.
The judge ordered him to the maximum sentence.
Given that he was already a middle-aged man, Gentry might not live long enough to walk free again.
Kingsley Atkinson was a greedy jerk, but he was right about one thing: You reap what you sow.
The admission also paved the way for Bianca and Tyler’s family to pursue a civil action against Gentry for monetary damages. I hoped they’d be awarded every penny he had.
Buck and I bade our goodbyes to Bianca, Gail, and Alonzo, everyone expressing our mutual satisfaction with the way things had gone today.
Devin and Bess intercepted me as I made my way to the door. Bess said, “The first time we spoke, you asked if we knew who went by the username Saved and Sanctified. We know now.”
“It was Thad Gentry?”
She nodded.
Devin said, “He was angry that Tyler Yee’s podcast and article could discredit the church, primarily because Thad was using the church to bolster his credibility in the business world.”
Another mystery solved.
Collin said, “You two must have been very persuasive to get Gentry to confess.”
Devin pointed a finger upward. “Any credit goes to the man upstairs. We were merely a vessel to deliver His message.”
As we left the court, my belly tightened again. This time, the feeling was like pressure on an old bruise, not painful yet, but certainly uncomfortable. I looked up at Collin. “I think I’m in labor.”
He grinned. “Let’s get you to the hospital. I can’t wait to meet our kid!”
Eight hours later, precisely on her due date—yep, I said her—Courtney Cornelia Flynn arrived.
We’d decided to call her Courtney because the name, like our child, was essentially a combination of Collin and Whitney, and because I’d gone into labor in the courthouse.
We gave her the middle name Cornelia as a tribute to Cornelia Womble, a woman who didn’t let anything stop her from doing the right thing and helping enslaved people find their way to freedom.
I hoped my daughter, too, would have principles, determination, and courage.
Of course, before our parents even arrived to meet her, Courtney Cornelia already had a nickname: Cornbread.
My parents, Courtney’s grandma and grandpa, arrived with a pink gift bag. Mom held it out to me. “I’ll trade you this for the baby.”
Though I hadn’t had nearly enough of my baby just yet, I knew I’d have to learn to share her.
I held her out and let my mother take her.
While my parents fussed over her, declaring her “so cute” and “absolutely adorable,” I pulled the gift out of the bag.
I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw what it was.
A wooden toy tool set in pastel colors, the perfect gift for my little girl.
Collin’s parents arrived shortly thereafter with an enormous bouquet of pink roses.
“Hi, little one!” cooed Collin’s mom, now “Nana” to our little Cornbread. My mom turned Courtney over to her other grandmother, though with obvious reluctance.
Collin’s father, who’d chosen Pappy for his grandparent name, teared up. He swiped at his eyes. “Dear Lord, that little girl has turned me into mush!”
Collin and I exchanged smiles. We were happy our parents were so excited about their new grandchild. She’d be nurtured and loved.
When we arrived home from the hospital two days later, Collin carried Courtney in her plastic car seat in one hand while helping me up the steps to our house with the other.
The three cats greeted us as we unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Sawdust entwined himself around my ankles until I reached down, picked him up, and cradled him to my chest. “You missed me, didn’t you? ”
He responded with a purr.
I walked over to the comfy rocker-recliner and plopped down into it. Now that the flurry of activity at the hospital was behind us, exhaustion hit me full force. All I wanted to do was cuddle my little Cornbread and sleep for three days straight.
Collin unbuckled the baby from her carrier and handed her to me.
At some point, I’d rock her in the whiskey barrel cradle, but I didn’t want to put her down just yet.
I held her against my chest, the back of her neck resting in the crook of my arm.
She looked up at me and made the cutest little cooing sounds, reminding me of the doves in the hayloft.
Though my baby was new to the world, I felt new, too, in a way.
It struck me then that people were much like buildings.
We were continually being remodeled. A few years back, I’d started out as a carpenter with dreams of flipping houses.
I’d evolved into a crime solver, too. Now, I was a mother, as well.
Though part of me was the same person I’d always been, part of me was updated and different.
Sawdust hopped up onto the wide arm of the chair to check out his new human sibling.
I ran a hand over his head and back before introducing the two of them.
“Courtney, this is Sawdust. Sawdust, this is Courtney, but you’ll also hear us call her Cornbread.
You two are going to be crazy about each other. I just know it.”
Sawdust was tentative at first, stretching out his neck, his head bobbing and weaving as he sniffed her blanket, her shoulder, the soft spot on the top of her head.
His whiskers twitched as he appeared to be mulling over this new creature I’d brought into our home.
Then he stretched out his little pink tongue to give her a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek.
She wriggled and cooed in reply. Those two were already crazy about each other, and I was crazy about the two of them.
I felt joy and gratitude. I also felt hungry.
Good thing we had a dozen Kitchen Sink Breakfast Cookies in the pantry.