“Hey, Gage,” Dave says after a five-minute wait. “Sorry to bother you during your workday.”
“It’s fine. What’s up?”
“I wanted to update you on the status of the plea deal we’ve been working on with his attorney.”
Dave never says the guy’s name, for which I’m eternally grateful.
“How’s that going?”
“We’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, and we’ve landed on three counts of vehicular manslaughter in addition to the DUI charges.”
I’ve been pushing hard for vehicular homicide, which is why the case has been dragged out so long, and the thought of lesser charges doesn’t sit well with me. The man had been on a two-day bender when he got behind the wheel of his car and ran head-on into my wife and daughters while driving the wrong way on Interstate 395.
“It’s not what we wanted,” Dave says, “and I know we’d be asking you to swallow a bitter pill if we accept this deal. But the upside is that it spares you the agony of a trial, where there’s always a slim chance he gets off, even though I don’t think that would happen in this case. It’s just that we can’t guarantee the outcome of a trial. A million things can happen.”
He told me that before we began plea negotiations ages ago. “What would be the sentence?”
“Twenty-five years with fifteen to serve, ten years’ probation after release, lifetime loss of his driver’s license, mandatory lifetime drug and alcohol testing and a one-hundred-thousand-dollar fine that would go to the charity of your choice.”
I try to process the information, but my brain isn’t having it. “Would you put all that into an email for me?”
“Of course.”
“How long do I have to decide?”
“Would a few days be good?”
“Yes, that should work. I need to talk to Nat’s family.”
“Understood. Take the time you need and let me know what you decide.”
“Would you take this deal if he’d killed your family?”
“I’d feel the same way you do about wanting more than manslaughter, but more than anything, I’d probably want him locked up for a long time so he couldn’t do this to anyone else’s family. But as I’ve said from the beginning, Gage, I can’t possibly know what you’ve been through, and I pray to God I never do. I can’t tell you what to do. If you want to go to trial, that’s what we’ll do.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good. I’m here if you have any questions or need me for anything.”
“Thank you, Dave. For everything.”
“I wish I could say it was a pleasure. Talk soon.”
After we end the call, I again sit for a long time staring off into space, thinking about what he said and trying to figure out how I feel about it. Every time the case intrudes to remind me of my terrible loss, I go numb inside when I think of the man who killed my family.
Even though I know it wasn’t in my best interest to do so, I did a deep dive on him about six months after the accident, and what I found out infuriated me even more than I already was. Parents, siblings, his girlfriend and other longtime friends knew he had spiraled into full-blown alcoholism and tried their hardest to get help for him. In the meantime, he got behind the wheel and murdered my family.
I’m not sure I can live with a manslaughter conviction when this was homicide. Did he set out to kill Nat and the girls that day? Maybe not, but he was repeatedly told he was going to kill someone if he didn’t quit drinking and driving. He was arrested for it twice before, lost his license for long stretches, but always did what he had to do to get it back. Why didn’t he just acknowledge that he had no business driving and give up his license for good?
If only he’d done that, none of this would’ve happened. Which is why I’ve pushed for the more severe charges. I feel like I owe that to Nat and the girls.
This workday is a bust.
As I stand to leave, my assistant, Tory, appears at my door. “Reminder of your two o’clock conference call with Digi-Tech.”
“Can you please ask Luke to take that for me?”
She stares at me for a second, seeming stunned. “Um, sure. Is everything all right? You’ve been punched out lately.”