Chapter 4

Ten Years Earlier

 

The courthouse in our small town of Chester Fork is the county seat for our farming community. It rarely sees much action with the exception of marriage licenses, divorces, and drivers seeking to contest vehicular violations.

Sage’s initial court appearance is the crime of the century in our sleepy town. Within twenty-four hours of his arrest, word spread throughout the county, as far as Nashville, about the son murdering his father in cold blood.

As soon as London and I left the hotel, I called my dad, who jumped into action and contacted his friend, Geoff Custer, a criminal defense attorney from Nashville. They had been in the Air Force Academy together and Geoff later went on to law school. Within hours, Geoff had arrived at the Chester Fork county jail and had already met with Sage, signing on to be his attorney.

The hard part for London and I was the waiting. We arrived at the jail but were told we couldn’t see Sage. It was against the rules. Thankfully, after Geoff and my dad arrived, Geoff was able to give us some details.

London and I clutched each other’s hands in solidarity and worry, sitting in a small conference room across the table from Geoff and my dad.

Geoff lets out a deep sigh, his hands folded in front of him on the table, nodding his head up and down without a word. I’m not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one. My stomach clenched and my throat gathered dust as we waited for him to sift through all his paperwork on the desk.

Geoff cleared his throat. “Well, I can tell you that Sage is okay for now. He received some medical attention before he was placed into custody.”

London gasped loudly, clutching at her heart and I squeezed her hand. “What? Is he hurt? Please tell us he’s not hurt.”

Geoff held up a hand, prompting her to quiet herself and let him finish speaking.

“He suffered a broken rib, nose and wrist in the scuffle. All will heal in time and no permanent physical damage,” he reassured, making some notes on the pad of paper in front of him. Then he flipped through the yellow legal pad, stopping at a page with a bunch of chicken scratch on it from what I saw.

“The timeline leading up to the death of Merle Hendricks can’t be verified by anyone else, as there are no other live witnesses at the time of the event, with the exception of Sage, of course.” He lifted his bushy gray eyebrows skeptically. Fucker didn’t look like he believed Sage’s account of what happened. Which we have no idea what that was.

Geoff rubbed his temple as if he’s the one that has something to lose out of this whole ordeal.

“We’ll hopefully receive the coroner’s report soon to establish the cause and time of death.”

My dad jumped in, agitated and pissed off. “What does that mean and why is it relevant? If Sage is beaten that badly, there was obviously an altercation that was provoked by his father’s drunken state.”

My eyes darted to my dad, who sits with military-straight posture at the end of the table, lines creasing his forehead and between his brows. He’s never been a fan of Sage, nor understands how our friendship has lasted all this time, but thankfully he’s not going to turn his back on him. Not when everyone else in Sage’s life has and not when he needs us most.

Geoff continued. “It’s pertinent because it establishes the timeline of events leading up to the altercation and will either confirm that Sage is telling the truth about what transpired, or if there are holes in his story. And when this goes to trial, which for obvious reasons it will, that information will be key in the testimony and case. Now, let’s see…”

As Geoff reviewed his notes, I took the opportunity to give a sidelong glance toward London, who sat to my left. Her tears have long since dried up since we left the hotel, but now she just appeared shell-shocked and scared.

I rubbed my thumb over the top of her hand, hoping that it would give her some piece of mind. Trying to assure both of us that if we hold on tight, it’ll all work out.

London’s voice sounded timid and so quiet you could barely hear her.

“Can we see him tonight?” Her pleading tone stabbed me in the chest like a knife.

The attorney’s head popped up, his tired eyes staring at London from above the frames of his reading glasses.

“We need to see him, sir. Please.” I emphasize.

Geoff sighed and dropped his pen on the paper, folding his hands in a steeple to prop up his chin.

“Unfortunately, not tonight. He’s being processed right now.”

“Processed?” I had no idea what that meant, so I clarified, unnerved by the sounds and smells of the jail. It sounded like they were putting Sage through a meat packing factory like they have over in Watertown – all the metal-clanging of the cold steel gates.

“Yes, there are procedural steps when a perp…I mean, an individual who is booked and charged for this kind of violent crime. And he won’t be able to step in front of the judge until tomorrow morning’s bail hearing.”

My dad spoke up, saying what we’re all thinking. “Will they release him then?”

Geoff cleared his throat again, taking a sip of his coffee on the table next to his stack of papers. “I honestly don’t know. Typically, with any crime of this magnitude, there will be a review of his criminal history, his flight risk, the nature and circumstances around the crime, and any history of violence.”

London stared at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the make-up she’d worn for prom now smeared and smudged. Her head snapped suddenly back to the attorney.

“He’s only eighteen and has no criminal history. Will that matter?”

“I wish I could give you the answer you want, but the truth is, he will be tried as an adult. Now, if he pleads Not Guilty at the arraignment hearing, it’ll be months before anything moves forward. I just want to prepare you all, that if the judge denies bail tomorrow, which could be likely as a man was murdered tonight, Sage will be looking at spending the length of that time incarcerated in the county jail.”

“Oh my God!” London wailed, her head shaking back and forth in frantic denial.

“Fuck No!” I said at the same time.

My dad slapped a hand on my shoulder, trying to reassure me with his physical presence. But it didn’t work. I was sick to my stomach thinking that Sage could be stuck in that place – with all its horrific noises and musty, urine-scented hallways.

And I thought his living conditions at home with his dad had been bad. This was a thousand times worse.

“Son…London,” my dad interjected. “Do not get caught up in the what-if’s right now. Let’s get through tomorrow and we’ll do everything we can to ensure we are there for your friend.”

I noticed my dad doesn’t use Sage’s name. It made me angry and that frustration, already brewing on simmer, bubbled up from the pit of my stomach. I wanted to hit something. Destroy anything in my path that was separating us from Sage.

This night couldn’t be happening. It was supposed to be such an amazing night to remember but turned into a nightmare. A horror movie of epic proportions. And it had to be a thousand, if not a million times worse for Sage.

The attorney interjected. “Okay, let’s turn our focus on how you can help Sage. I need to get some information as to the last time you saw him, spoke with him or heard from him. What his state of mind was during that time leading up to tonight’s events. Can you both do that for me?”

London and I nodded our heads in unison and we begin regurgitating everything we remembered as it related to Sage over the last 24-hour period.

Everything except for the reason the three of us were planning to meet up at the hotel.

That might not have gone over so well in the grand scheme of things.