50. Noah - December
FIFTY
Noah - December
HURT - JOHNNY CASH
I found him in the waiting area just outside the visitation room, slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs. His face was drawn and pale, as if he’d been waiting for me, maybe even bracing himself for this moment.
He looked older than I remembered, more worn down, like the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. His hands were trembling slightly, his fingers flexing nervously as he stood when I approached. The look in his eyes was full of guilt and something deeper, something broken.
“Dad,” I said, quieter than I’d intended.
He winced, like the sound of my voice physically hurt him. The space between us felt vast, each of us waiting for the other to break it open. But I didn’t know how to start. How to ask the questions I needed answers to.
He ran a hand through his thinning hair, his gaze never quite meeting mine, as if he were searching for the right words in the cracks of the floor. “Noah, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you everything.” He knew John would tell me everything. And he let him.
I stared at him, waiting for him to continue, to make sense of the mess that John left behind. But there was nothing. No easy explanations, no comforting lies. Only the harsh reality of the truth John had finally dragged into the light.
“How could you have kept all of this from me?” The words came out before I could stop them, harsh and raw. Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.
His shoulders sagged, a deep sigh escaping him. “When John came to me years ago… I didn’t know what to do. He was a kid, Noah. A kid I thought had made a horrible mistake. I thought I could help him. Guide him. I thought I could make him better.” For a moment, I saw the man I had once trusted so completely. “I never imagined… I never thought he would become what he did.”
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “So, you covered it up. You let him get away with murder because you thought you could fix him?” The question came out as a whisper, but the sting of it hit me like a slap.
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t think it was right. I knew it wasn’t, but at the time… John said it was a mistake, and I thought I was protecting you, protecting our family. I didn’t cover anything up. I just… didn’t report him. I thought if I kept him close, got him on the right path with my company, maybe he would be fine.” He paused, his gaze moving down to the floor. “I was wrong. I see that now. I failed you.”
I couldn’t process it fast enough. My mind reeled, thoughts swirling like smoke. “And you let him… close to me? You let him be part of our lives after all of that? How could you?”
He flinched, the guilt in his eyes seeming to nearly suffocate him. “I didn’t know what he would become. He swore it was an accident. I believed him, Noah. I thought he was… I’m sorry. I thought he wanted help. But when he came to me about his mother’s death… when I found out about the others…” His words broke off, and I could see the pain of that realization etched across his face.
I shook my head in disbelief, anger starting to claw its way up my throat. “And you still didn’t go to the police?”
“No,” he said, his voice raw. “When I knew—when I really understood what he had done—I went to the police. I’ve been working with the FBI, Noah. For months. Trying to help them track him down, find him before he killed anyone else. But I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone. Not until now. It was part of the investigation.”
I stopped breathing for a moment, his confession hitting me like a ton of bricks. “You went to the police? After everything? After all this time?”
“Yes.” He nodded, tears starting to well in his eyes. “The moment I knew, I couldn’t… I couldn’t let him keep going. I had to stop him. I didn’t care what happened to me. I knew what I had done was wrong, letting him go free all these years. But I didn’t know how else to fix it. I was willing to face whatever came, just to get him behind bars.”
“But you’re still here. Why aren’t you in jail too?”
“Statute of limitations…” He swallowed. “It’s three years for misprision of felony—failure to report a crime. I didn’t hide evidence, I didn’t lie, didn’t cover up a body. It’s been too long, Noah. They can’t prosecute me for what happened. When I realized what John had become, I tried to turn myself in. I was ready to face whatever came to stop him. But now, there’s nothing to be done. So, I offered to help the FBI track him down in any way I could.”
I stared at him, a strange numbness creeping through me. “So, you’re not going to jail? You’re not going to pay for what you did?”
He shook his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean I’m free. I’ll never be free of this. Of the guilt. I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life, knowing I put you in danger. Knowing I let him become who he is.”
Tears threatened to fall again. “Dad, you didn’t just let me down. You let everyone down. All those women. You let him become a monster.” The words felt like poison as they left my mouth.
“I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’ve been trying to make it right. Offering resources, helping however I can. But… I can’t undo what’s been done.”
I stood there, frozen, trying to find the words that would make sense of everything. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
My dad made terrible choices—choices that affected my life in ways I didn’t fully grasp until now. But in his own flawed way, he’d tried to make amends.
“I need some time… to process this,” I whispered.
He nodded, tears welling in his own eyes. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Noah. I just… I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ever put you in danger.”
His words didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know what to do with them. What to do with this shattered version of the man who was my father. But I knew I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.
But at least now I knew the truth. And for now, that was enough.