Beckett
Ten Years Ago
“Beckett Brooks, you are hereby sentenced to fifteen years for the crime of Murder in the first degree of Clay Crimson.”
The weeping of my mother and sisters echoes in my ears, and the cries of Clay’s grandparents match their painful sounds. I will myself not to look at them, but I can’t help it. Sitting behind my father is Henry, patting his shoulder in sympathy.
Ryland and Hudson blink back tears, their fists pounding into their hearts, their other arms each wrapped around one of my sisters who are sobbing. Connor stands between my brothers covering his face with his hands and shaking.
I’ve not spoken to anyone. Besides my attorney, I’ve not been allowed to see anyone in my family.
It’s a good thing, not seeing them. The night of the murder, looking in my parents’ eyes and seeing their pain about killed me.
The attorney my parents hired I wouldn’t talk to. They tried me as an adult, and Henry stood up and gave a speech to the judge about remembering my age when sentencing me.
It took all I had not to yell out in court that he’s a corrupt hypocrite, but watching Skates kill Clay and Mia plays over and over in my mind, and I won’t have my family’s fate be the same as Clay and Mia’s.
I prayed Mia would make it through the shooting, but my attorney told me that she died. He said that the evidence from Mia’s body was mishandled and that I was lucky to be avoiding that charge.
The county jail is a pit. I’ve been locked in it during my trial, which was quick as I never denied the charges.
As the officer leads me out of the courtroom, I see Clay’s grandparents’ eyes full of horror and grief.
They believe I murdered Clay and Mia.
You might as well have. It’s your fault. If you hadn’t forced Clay to pull over, and you didn’t rummage through Skates’ boxes and find the heroin, maybe Clay could have quit running his errands, and he’d still be alive.
Mia would be alive, too.
God, Mia. She was innocent.
Clay shouldn’t have been murdered, but he chose to work for Skates. Mia didn’t have anything to do with it. She was just a sweet girl—a good girl.
If you weren’t so obsessed over getting laid, you would have seen Skates talking to Clay on the field after practices. You could have stopped him from taking that first job.
“Beckett,” my dad shouts out as the guard is guiding me out of the courtroom. I turn and see him mouth, “I love you.” I quickly turn away, blinking away tears.
Do not cry, Beckett. Be a man.
I’m going to prison. My cellmates have already filled me in on my future. The county jail is a picnic in the park. Prison is where hell is.
The first few nights in jail, I cried in my pillow, and one of the guards came into my cell in the middle of the night and ordered me out of it.
“Where are we going?”
“Just shut up, Brooks.”
He led me down the hallway, through the cells, and into a small room. “Sit down, Brooks.”
I obeyed, wondering what I had done wrong and what was happening.
“You need to toughen up, kid. You’re going to prison. There are no tears in prison.”
“I know—”
“Shut up. You know shit. You’re a cocky kid who’s used to being Mr. Popular. Do you know what Mr. Popular gets in prison?”
I take a deep breath as all my fears about what is going to happen to me come to the surface.
He sits down. “I’m going to give you some advice, and I suggest you take it and don’t forget it.”
I stare at him.
“Shut up when you get to prison. No one, and I mean no one, is your friend. That includes the guards. Do not trust anyone. Watch your back at all times. Lift weights and bulk up. You’re a pretty boy, and they love pretty boys like you. Defend yourself if needed, but do not do any favors for anyone. Stay out of everyone’s business. You see a fight, walk the other way. You hear an argument, look the other way. Do not drink alcohol or take drugs. Get into the programs to keep yourself busy and out of trouble. They have a GED program. Get it. They have a college course program. Take it. Keep your head up and out of trouble. Do you understand me?”
GED. I’m not even going to have a high school diploma from my school.
“Yes, sir.”
He stares at me. “I don’t know why you did what you did, but you’re young, and I believe in redemption. I’ll pray for you that you clear your debt to society. When you get out someday, I hope you become a lawful, good citizen. You’ll still be able to have a full life one day down the road.”
Redemption. A full life.
I start to choke up again, and he slams his hand on the table. “Do not cry. They will destroy you the first day you get there if you cry.”
I take a deep breath and compose myself.
“Good. You played sports so isometric exercises can be your best friend. The cell isn’t big, but use it to your advantage.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all I have to say.” He stands up, opens the door, and leads me back to my cell.
That was several nights ago, and his words of advice have played over and over in my mind.
I’m put in a van and transported to prison. It’s about a half-hour ride, and my stomach is churning in fear.
When I get to the prison, I spend an hour being logged into the system. At the very end, they make me strip, spread my legs, and bend over, while they do a cavity search checking for weapons and drugs. They shave my head and hose me down with cold water then hand me an orange jumpsuit.
Before I am sent off to my cell, the warden comes in. “I’m Warden Smith. You will address me as Warden.”
“Yes, Warden,” I quickly reply.
“Should I expect trouble from you?”
I shake my head. “No, Warden.”
He looks me over and scans my eyes. “Lights are out at nine p.m. You stand outside the door of your cell for head count. When the door to your cell locks, that means no talking, no lights. You get in your bed, understand?”
“Yes, Warden.”
“Six o’clock is the wake-up call. You get up, you make your bed, and stand outside the cell when it unlocks at a quarter after six for head count. You understand?”
“Yes, Warden.”
He scans my face one last time. “It’s time to pay your debt, inmate 4592.”
I stare at him.
“You will respond to inmate 4592. Remember that is who you now are.” He waits for me to respond.
Inmate 4592. That’s who I now am.
“Yes, Warden.”
He turns and leaves. Two guards lead me down a hallway, and a door unlocks. Both sides of the walls are covered in cells, five flights up. A common area has chairs bolted to the floor as well as the tables.
They lead me to the third level and down the aisle as the prisoners all yell and make catcalls so loud, my ears are ringing. My heart pounds, and my insides shake in fear. I stare directly ahead of me, clenching my jaw, seeing the arms in my peripheral vision reaching out through the bars, trying to grab me.
When I get to cell 345, my cellmate is in the room taking a shit on the metal toilet three feet from the bunk beds. I assume he’s in his mid-forties, and he’s got a beard and tattoos all over his arms, neck, and face. He grins at me. “Welcome home, inmate 4592.”
Home. Home is no longer where the heart is. It’s where hell resides, and all things evil come together. Hell is where I have time to think for too many hours to count about the vengeance I will bestow on both Skates and Henry.
I may have come to prison an innocent man, but in prison I will begin my journey to become the felon I’m declared to be.