Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
RACHEL
Between Mojave and Frankie moving in with me, the process starting for Mojave to take full legal custody of Frankie, and the end of the school year events, I completely forgot about the assault case against Scott until Prez brought it up at a crew barbecue a little over a week later.
I’d expected to be called in as a witness, and for Mojave to be questioned, so the fact that neither of us had been contacted was a little odd.
“If he’s planning on taking a plea or pleading guilty without any fuss, they might not need the two of you,” Prez commented, his attention on flipping the burgers on the grill.
“There was video evidence, witness statements from all three of you, and a history of harassment from Scott that proves his behavior wasn’t a one time thing. That would be enough for some judges.”
“I don’t know if I could see Scott pleading guilty,” I murmured, gently rocking a baby named Melissa that a biker named Vegas asked me to hold so he could run inside and use the restroom.
I was more than happy to do it, and the sweet little thing was fast asleep anyway so the only thing she needed from me was to keep up the swaying motion that kept her asleep.
“Yeah, I figured that asshole would go down swinging, no matter the evidence,” Killian said from where he was playing cards with Mojave nearby.
Frankie was trying to play with them, but since she didn’t know how, Mojave spent half the time looking over her shoulder to point out cards to put down, which meant her cards weren’t a secret like they were supposed to be.
“I guess the evidence finally caught up to him,” Prez muttered, then paused, his eyes going distant as his brows furrowed. “That or he offered up something in return.”
We all frowned at him, but he handed off the spatula to Wraith and pulled out his phone, walking away without a word. I could only gape at his back. What was that about?
It wasn’t until a few days later that we found out what Prez had been talking about.
I got a call in the middle of the work day from Mojave, who said Prez asked us to come to the courthouse and that he was leaving Frankie with Prez’s wife, Maggie.
She had a daughter a few years younger than Frankie and was apparently watching a few of the kids that day, so she was a safe bet for him if no one else was available.
When I stepped through the large wooden doors, I was surprised to see how crowded it was.
It wasn’t a full trial, Prez had informed us that Scott intended to take a deal, and yet the gallery was nearly filled to the brim.
More than half of Mojave’s crew was there, and a few more I didn’t recognize.
On the opposite side, I recognized a few of Scott’s coworkers, including the man who’d led him astray in the first place.
Seeing my parents in the back row surprised me, but I ignored them, heading toward where Mojave sat near the front next to Killian and Butch. Skylar sat on Butch’s opposite side, which only made me more curious. What did Prez know that he’d wanted most of his crew here to witness.
Scott sat at the defense table, pointedly not looking behind him, his eyes burning a hole into the judge’s bench and refusing to look at anyone. He looked pissed, but stayed quiet, which was an improvement probably impressed upon him by his lawyer, if I had to make a guess.
The bailiff called the room to attention, announcing Judge Thomas as he entered the room.
I was more than familiar with him, he was the only judge for this jurisdiction and had been the judge in many of the custody cases I’d worked in the past. He’d also be the one to decide on Mojave’s custody claim, but that wouldn’t be for a few months yet.
After getting comfortable in his seat, Judge Thomas spoke. “We’re here in the matter of State vs. Scott Packman. Counsel, is it to my understanding that both parties have come to an agreement?”
“Yes, your honor,” Scott’s lawyer agreed. “The defendant has agreed to plead guilty to count one, assault and battery in exchange for dropping the charges to a petty misdemeanor. The defendant has also agreed to cooperate with an ongoing investigation involving the Silver City Police department.”
Sitting up straighter, I sucked in a breath.
Murmurs swept through the room and I could see more than one of Scott’s old coworkers lean forward and start whispering harshly at him over the rail.
No wonder Prez wanted everyone here. I had heard a little about the multiple cases against both the local police station, but things were moving glacially slowly because of lack of evidence.
If Scott agreed to cooperate, it could change the tides drastically in the crew’s favor.
“Very well,” Judge Thomas said, sharp grey eyes settling on Scott. “Mr. Packman, is this your understanding of the agreement?”
“Yes,” Scott gritted out for the first time. At the angle I had, I could see his hands tighten into fists in his lap, his fury evident in every line of his muscles.
“Has anyone threatened or forced you to enter this plea?” Judge Thomas continued.
“No.”
“And you understand that lowering charge levels doesn’t guarantee zero jail time. Correct?”
Scott’s face twitched, but his lawyer’s hand on his arm stopped him from saying anything he’d regret. “Yes, I understand,” he finally snapped.
With a sharp nod, Judge Thomas smacked the gavel against the sounding block. “The court accepts the defendant’s guilty plea. Sentencing will be held in a week’s time, once the terms of the deal are met. Court adjourned.”
The noise level in the gallery rose to almost deafening levels, with Mojave’s crew whispering excitedly about what it all meant and what happened next.
Meanwhile, Scott’s old coworkers were still trying to speak with him, only blocked by his lawyer who kept shaking his head and refusing to let him say a word.
“Everyone’s going to meet at the clubhouse to discuss what comes next,” Mojave whispered in my ear. “We should go.”
Knowing how much the crowded courtroom likely bothered him, I agreed with a nod, leading the way out of the courtroom with Mojave on my heels. I made it out the front door before I heard Scott calling for me.
“Rachel! Wait!”
Bracing myself for what was to come, I stepped out of the way of the entrance, turning and waiting for Scott to approach me.
Before he could get a word out, Prez stepped in front of me, shaking his head as he spoke.
“There’s an active restraining order between you and Ms. Clark. You need to stay away from her.”
Scott’s lawyer blanched, obviously unaware of who I was when Scott tried to speak to me. He grabbed Scott’s arm, pulling him away, but Scott shook him off, glaring at me. “I hope you’re fuckin’ happy. This is all your fault. If you’d just been a decent wife, none of this would’ve happened.”
Mojave’s hand took mine, lacing our fingers together. He didn’t say a word, but remained a steady presence at my side, supporting me without making things worse like Scott would have if he was in Mojave’s place.
“Mr. Packman, walk away,” Prez insisted.
“Oh, fuck you! You and your fucking crew are a stain on our community! It should be you assholes on trial, not me!”
“We’re not the ones doing illegal shit,” Rooster called from nearby. “That’s all you and your cronies, man!”
“We were protecting the community!” Scott screamed back, now being physically held back by his lawyer and a few other officers as he fought to get closer. “You’re lucky it was only drugs! Some of us wanted to put you assholes in the ground!”
The shock of that statement rippled through the crowd, and I put my hand against my mouth, horrified I used to be married to such a despicable human being.
Scott kept going until Maskery tackled him to the ground. Several on duty officers had to pull them apart as Maskery pummeled him and shouted how he was supposed to keep his damn mouth shut.
Prez huffed, his voice stunned as he watched the two men being handcuffed and hauled to nearby police cruisers.
“We knew it was them, but with the evidence we had, it wasn’t looking like it’d go our way.
” He glanced over his shoulder, grinning at me.
“Thanks to your ex, we now have him admitting it out loud. And with Maskery attacking him to shut him up? That’d be really hard to dismiss in court. ”
“Two in one!” Rooster crowed cheerfully.
“Man, shut up,” Vegas complained. “Get your happy ass back to the clubhouse before I sic Butch on you.”
Rooster complained as the crew drifted away, heading for their bikes to meet at the clubhouse for a meeting.
My eyes scanned over the crowd, taking in Butch and Skylar nearby, hugging each other and soaking in the win.
Those two, more than anyone, deserved to know Butch’s attackers would soon be behind bars.
Scott may have gotten out of the assault charge, but he wouldn’t get out of framing and assaulting an innocent man just because he didn’t like their crew.
My gaze snagged on my parents, who stood in the shade of the courthouse nearby, pale faced and shaken after everything they’d seen. After years of them prioritizing Scott over me, I wasn’t sure if I should feel vindicated or just sad that they were finally set straight.
I was going to head to Maggie’s house to pick up Frankie, figuring I’d give a few kids a ride since not all of them could fit in Prez’s truck, but my mom’s voice calling for me stopped me before I could walk away.
“Rachel?”
This time, when I turned, I didn’t brace myself.
I lifted my chin, showing them in my expression that I hadn’t yet forgiven them for their actions at the dinner the other week.
For once, they looked remorseful, and when they approached, they looked more fragile than I’d ever seen them before.
Smaller. Like seeing Scott as he truly was had ripped the rug out from under them.
Dad spoke first, his words filled with pain and regret. “We’re so sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t know–”
“Yes, you did,” Mojave interrupted. “She told you. You didn’t want to hear it.”
How he knew that, I wasn’t entirely sure, but he wasn’t wrong. I had told them plenty of times. They always made excuses.
Mom’s voice shook as she admitted, “You’re right,” without a single argument or excuse. “We were wrong. We shouldn’t have believed him over you. I… shouldn’t have believed him.”
I wasn’t sure if there was ever a time in my life where my parents truly apologized to me. Not without excuses or backhanded comments that made it mostly my fault. It was so shocking, I wasn’t wholly sure how to respond.
“While I appreciate that, I’m not ready to forgive you just yet,” I finally answered. “You haven’t been choosing Scott over me just in the last six months. It’s been years. It’ll take more than one apology to fix that.”
Mom’s face crumpled, while Dad nodded, remorse still carved deeply into his face as he wrapped a supportive arm around my mom. “We understand. And when you’re ready, we want to work to fix what we’ve done. Thank you for taking the time to listen. We’ll give you space and wait for your call.”
He stepped back, leading my mom away, but she shook her head rapidly, tears streaming down her face as she reached into her purse and thrust something at me.
“This is for the girl. As an apology.” Her wide blue eyes were filled with tears as they stared at me pleadingly.
“Please give it to her. I overstepped and I’m sorry for that. I just want to make it right.”
Reluctantly, I took the paper she gave me, watching as she hurried away with my dad in tow.
I expected a letter, so it surprised me when I looked down and saw a slightly crumpled butterfly made out of colorful paper sitting in the palm of my hand.
Mojave looked at it as well, pointing to a crease on the wing going in the wrong direction.
“See that? She didn’t get it right the first time. She cared enough to try again.”
He didn’t realize how profound his words were.
If she cared enough to apologize, maybe, one day, we could try again with our own relationship.
I wasn’t ready yet to give up on them entirely.
After spending time with Frankie and Mojave, I knew just how precious time with family was.
If they were willing to make the effort, then I could too, as long as I was prepared to stick to my boundaries.
Maybe some time speaking with a therapist might be worth the effort first. Mojave found it helpful. It wouldn’t hurt to try.