Chapter 9 - The Trial and Sentence
I didn't attend the sentencing in March.
David called me afterward to give me the news. Tyler had pled guilty to avoid a drawn-out trial. The judge, noting his lack of prior felony convictions but emphasizing the severity of the DUI crash, sentenced him to four years in a medium-security facility, with eligibility for parole in two and a half.
"How did he look?" I asked, looking out my kitchen window at the blooming desert flowers.
"Empty," David said quietly. "He didn't say a word. He just let them take him away. I think... I think he finally realized no one was coming to rescue him."
"Good," I said.
"I'm sorry, Clara," David said, his voice breaking. "For leaving you alone with him all those years. I created that monster just as much as he did. Maybe more."
"I forgive you, David," I said, and I meant it. "But we can't fix the past. We can only protect our future."
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I spent the rest of the spring renovating the house. I tore out the carpets and put down hardwood floors. I painted the dining room a bright, cheerful yellow. I threw away the heavy, oppressive furniture that held the memories of his rage, and bought light, modern pieces.
My home was no longer a crime scene, a prison, or a waiting room for the next disaster. It was a sanctuary.
