Beyond Innocence (2 page)

She sat at a corner stall and waited. She watched while others met with their loved ones. The prisoners uniformly asked about quarters before launching into questions about life on the outside. Diversity filled the room. Whites, blacks, Hispanics, Asians. Texas didn’t discriminate when it came to killing. She found the realization oddly comforting.

Twenty minutes passed before Eric arrived. She’d run out of distractions in the sterile environment, and her entire focus took in his entrance. Wrist cuffs ran through a belt around his waist, which was linked to a chain that ran down to his ankles. Cuffs around his ankles kept his steps short, but the real motivation to move slowly probably came from the three men who surrounded him. Each of them carried a long instrument. It took her a few seconds to get past the shock before she realized they sported cattle prods, the tips inches away from Eric’s skin.

They shoved him onto a seat identical to the one on which she was seated, small, steel, round. He wore a white T-shirt and khaki pants. He looked old. He wasn’t. He was only two years older than her thirty-three years. She leaned closer, stopping just short of the glass, but she didn’t speak. The guards hadn’t left yet. Finally, they stepped away and she sighed as she considered her first words.

Eric beat her to the punch. “Thank you.” Tears coursed down his cheeks, the restraints on his hands too tight to allow him the dignity of wiping them away. And just like that, she pushed aside her fiercely held resolve to cut ties with her troubled brother for the second time in her life. Blood runs strong.

She bit back a “you’re welcome.” Platitudes had no place here. Time was short. There was so much she didn’t know. Why he was here. What he wanted from her. Why she’d come when she’d sworn she wouldn’t be in this position ever again.

“I got your letter. I had to come. Tell me what you need.”

“I didn’t do it.”

She’d heard the words before. Believed them once. He didn’t steal the car, he’d only borrowed it for longer than the owner had originally allowed. He didn’t deal drugs, he was only in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t break in the house, he’d been housesitting and the police didn’t believe him. She had vowed she would never believe them again.

Blood runs strong.

Never mind the fact she hadn’t spoken with him in three years. She’d spent the first few months of silence resisting the urge to check in, struggling against the draw to violate her vow of letting go. Finally, her urges had settled into forgetting her past and all the baggage it carried. She went on with her life, enjoyed her successes, and drowned her guilt in activity.

Until the letter. She’d read it a dozen times in the week since it had arrived in a plain white envelope, nestled among bills and credit card offers. It was wrinkled with wear. It scared her. It drew her into a past she’d rather forget. It was family, and the concept was foreign to her.

She’d left the letter at home. She didn’t need to keep it with her—she’d memorized every line.

I’m in real trouble this time. A jury sentenced me to death. Said I raped and killed a girl. They’re going to kill me, Serena. Make me pay for what they think I did. This is Texas. Folks don’t sit on death row long here. They got a hankering for blood on this case, and I don’t know how much time I have. I should’ve told you sooner, but after last time, I wasn’t sure. I’m tired of disappointing you, but I don’t have anywhere else to turn. You don’t have to help me, but could you at least come and visit? I don’t want to go to my maker without a chance to tell you I’m sorry. Face-to-face. Sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. Sorry for not being what you wanted me to be. Just once. Please come see me just once.

She’d immediately picked up the phone and dialed the number of the attorney who’d forwarded the letter to her. She’d asked pointed questions and made copious notes. She hadn’t heard from Eric in three years, since the last time he’d gotten in trouble and took a trip to the penitentiary. She’d sworn then she was done. Done trying to help someone who obviously didn’t want her help. Eric was on his own, sink or swim.

Until this letter, she had kept her vow. The promise of death made her break it now. She’d learned to doubt Eric’s protestations in the past, but she knew in her heart he wasn’t lying now. Didn’t matter if he was. He was her flesh and blood, and he didn’t deserve to die, no matter what he did. Blood still ran strong between them, and she would fight to keep the connection alive.

“If you have quarters, you can use them now.”

The guard’s loud voice startled Serena, but Eric seemed nonplussed. Serena pulled a roll from her purse and showed them to Eric. “Not sure what I’m supposed to do with these.”

“You can go with the guard to buy stuff out of the vending machine. He’ll give it to me. How did you know?”

She mock huffed. “I do my research. I may be the little sister, but I’ve got skills.”

He smiled, not the tentative expression he’d offered when she first showed up, but a genuine, little boy grin. She grinned back. “You still like Hershey’s with almonds?”

“And a Coke. Thanks, sis.”

“My pleasure.”

A few minutes later, she returned to the booth and watched Eric devour the three candy bars she’d purchased. When he finished, she broached the unpleasant subject that hung between them. “Talk to me, but don’t tell me anything confidential.” She’d read about how these visits were taped, and she didn’t want him to tell her anything that could snip the last strings of hope he had to appeal his case. “I want to know where things stand as you understand it. I talked to your attorney, and I have his version.”

“Then you know I’m at the end. We lost our direct appeal. He said I may have a chance at a writ, but he can’t do it for free.”

She already knew that, but she wanted to hear him say it. Ian Taylor had told her that all the direct appeals had already been exhausted. She could hire an attorney or find someone to take the case pro bono, but the only shot Eric had now was a writ of habeus corpus. She didn’t really understand the difference, but from what she’d been able to gather, Eric had been entitled to have a court paid attorney for the appeal, but any extra shots at overturning the verdict would have to be on his own dime. Ian had been clear about the slim chances ahead. She was both relieved and disappointed to hear Eric admit the truth. With the reality in the open, they could move past it.

“I talked to Mr. Taylor. He said he did his best, but you’re right, there isn’t much for him to work with. Seems the lawyers who handled your case from the start bungled things up beyond repair.” She didn’t ask the question that was foremost in her mind, but Eric answered without being asked.

“I couldn’t afford a free-world lawyer. The court appointed those guys to my case. Said they were qualified. I figure they know plenty, but they didn’t talk to me much, so I guess they didn’t know much about this case.”

His even tone didn’t convey a lick of chastisement, but she silently berated herself. If she hadn’t cut all ties, he would have come to her for help, and she would’ve hired him a lawyer. A good one. Sitting here on death row shouldn’t be about uncertainty or lack of money. She would have exhausted every avenue to make sure he was well defended. If she hadn’t cut all ties.

As if he read her thoughts, he said, “You were right to cut me off. Last you saw me, I was headed down a path of destruction. I know it. When I got out of the pen, I promised myself I’d get my act together before I looked you up.” He ducked under her intense gaze. “I wasn’t out long before I got picked up for this. No way was I going to call you then.”

She understood. She had a million questions to ask about his case, but without privacy, she didn’t want to risk too many details. Problem was, if they didn’t talk about why he was here, there really wasn’t much else to discuss. The only thing they had in common was family, and they were the only two family members left. She risked a couple of questions. Things she had to know.

“Did you know her?”

His face fell. He knew who she was talking about. Ian had said Eric’s acquaintance with the victim was the final pin in the coffin of his case. She could understand why. Harder to say you were the random black man, selected to take the fall if you actually knew the victim of the crime.

“I did. We worked together. We were friends, kind of. I’d been to her house, helped her move in. She was always nice to me.”

Serena struggled not to react, instead formulating her next question. “Why didn’t you testify? Tell the jury you didn’t do it?” Two questions, but really only one. She needed him to tell her he didn’t do this thing. That no matter how far he had fallen, he hadn’t sunk to the depths of inhumanity, hadn’t raped and killed an innocent girl who’d never done harm to anyone.

“Lawyers told me not to. Said if I did, the jury would find out my whole record. I guess I shouldn’t have listened to them.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He met her eyes. “I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t touch a hair on her head. I swear it to you.”

His eyes begged for a response from her. She sifted through her doubts, searching for the truth. A memory surfaced. Her eighth birthday. The woman who’d given birth to them was nowhere to be found. Instead, Eric had met her after school and walked her to the shady convenience store near their dilapidated building. “Wait here,” he’d said. He was inside only a moment, then he emerged in a flash, grabbed her hand, and took off running. “Hurry, let’s get home. I have a surprise for your birthday.” When they were safely inside and all three locks were bolted, he presented a handful of candy bars, with a flourish.

Even her eight-year-old brain knew he didn’t have the money to buy her anything, but she hadn’t cared. He loved her enough to be there, to try to make her birthday something special. Her adult self would be revolted at the thought of taking stolen property, however trivial. She’d been disgusted by Eric’s behavior many times throughout the years. He lied, he cheated, he stole. But murder? Rape? She couldn’t fathom either. Not from the boy who had stolen candy so his sister could have a special day.

She locked eyes with him. “I believe you.”

Late that evening, Serena waited for the red-eye back to Florida. She hated airports. The first time in her life she’d flown on a plane she’d been leaving a tragic past to head to an uncertain future. The whole gravity thing didn’t help matters.

She’d been thirteen years old. Not only had she never been on a plane, no one in her circle of influence ever had. Of course, that circle was small. After the court declared her junkie mother unfit, she and Eric had spent several years in foster care. Sometimes together, sometimes apart.

When the folks from the agency came to visit, they took pictures. She stood still and listened while they made comments to the foster parents about how attractive her mocha skin was, how acceptable. How it would make it so much easier to find her a permanent home. She wondered why they didn’t know she could hear them. She wasn’t stupid, but in her young brain, that permanent home would always include her older brother. Her protector.

When the time came to seal the deal, Eric wasn’t part of it. Platitudes like, “He’ll be happier in a place that’s more for boys,” and, “You’ll both be able to visit and share your experiences,” didn’t soothe the pain. Serena had grown to love Don and Marion Clark, the couple who’d adopted her. They were Mom and Dad, but she’d never gotten over the pain of losing the only real family she’d ever had.

Years had passed before she’d seen Eric again. She’d almost learned to forget her past when it came roaring back in the form of a late night phone call.

“Honey, sorry to wake you, but I think it’s important.”

The urgency in Marion’s voice had been a cold blast of wake up. Serena shook herself awake and waited with panic for the only kind of news that comes in the middle of the night.

“It’s your brother, Eric. He’s in trouble.”

That was the first time. Two months post graduation from the local community college, she was only one week into her job at the bank, but she didn’t hesitate. She had walked into her boss’s office the next morning and, in vague terms, explained she had a family emergency that required her to travel out of state. She said she’d only be gone a few days, but she really had no idea what to expect. She purchased her flight, leaving the return trip open. Marion drove her to the airport.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Serena almost said yes. She hadn’t been back to Dallas since she’d first stepped on a plane, a week after her thirteenth birthday. As reluctant as she was to leave her life behind on that day, she was just as scared to return to it now. Although she’d resisted making connections here, she’d managed to weave her way into the lives of the couple who’d adopted her. But one thread remained unraveled, back in Texas. Eric. For a few months after she’d been whisked away to Florida, they’d written letters back and forth. Hers, timid descriptions of her new life in a distant place. His, thinly veiled missives of resentment. Eventually, one or both of them realized that no matter how they tried, they weren’t connecting. The letters stopped. If the Clarks had ever moved, Eric wouldn’t have been able to reach her that first time. He’d explained on the phone how he’d kept her last letter. How tenuous their family tie must be, reliant on a simple fact of geography.

The gate attendant called her boarding group. She rose to join the cattle call, wishing she’d purchased a book to distract her from thoughts of Eric during the flight home. As if he could read her mind, the gentleman who’d been sitting next to her offered her his newspaper. “I’m about to toss this. Would you like it?”

She smiled and accepted the paper. Within moments after boarding, she was completely immersed in an article about a recent conviction that had been overturned because of prosecutorial misconduct and the organization that had won the appeal. Hope renewed, she started making notes and planning a strategy to help Eric. She would not give up without a fight.