“You never reported his abuse, Annie. There’s no documentation. You shooting him won’t be justified without witnesses or a paper trail of repeated behavior. You might get away with claiming self-defense, but since there’s no medical evidence of priors, you could still get jail time. Again, I’m not risking that. You and the baby deserve better. I have twenty thousand in cash. Do not use it to bail me out, got it? You take it and get the hell out of here. Away from his family and this town.”
“Where did you get that kind of money?” she asks as I put my fingerprints on the gun.
“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s yours. Use it.” Then I direct her to grab it from my car and hide it before the police confiscate it.
“Archer, I can’t do this. What if they don’t believe you?” Her face is red and blotchy, and covered in more tears.
“They will. A tatted-up guy from the wrong side of the tracks will be plenty convincing. Chad was beating you, you’re my pregnant sister, and that’s plenty of motive. As long as you stick to the story, Annie. Understand?” I wipe her cheeks, and she winces at the touch. “Trust me, okay? I need you to do exactly what I say.”
“ I trust you.” She nods. “I just wish you wouldn’t do this.”
“I’d do anything for you.” I rest my palm over her baby bump. “Take care of my niece.”
After Annie repeated the story to me without hesitation, I called 911. I told dispatch what I’d done to protect my sister. Ten minutes later, five squad cars arrive, and the officers get out with their weapons pointing at me. As soon as I walked out of the house, I tossed the gun on the ground and held up my hands in surrender. They charged forward, pulling my wrists into cuffs while reading me my Miranda rights. I don’t have extra money for a lawyer, so I’ll wait until they can get me a court-appointed one before I talk.
Annie’s escorted outside with tears streaming down her face as I’m put in the back of a cop car.
“I love you,” I mouth.
“Love you too,” she says.
It takes two hours before I’m assigned an attorney. Before the detective questions me, I go over the events that led me to shooting Chad.
“He was uncontrollable and wouldn’t stop beating Annie, so I shot him in the leg. When he continued to punch Annie’s face, I aimed higher.” Since they took my sister to the hospital and can see her bruises, it’s obvious that part is true.
“Nevada self-defense law states that you must use no more physical force than necessary to defend yourself or someone else,” he informs me. “If it’s determined the act is reasonable, then it’s legal.”
I blow out a breath. “And if it’s not?”
“Then you’ll be charged accordingly,” he states. “You’d have the burden to claim that you acted out of fear for your sister’s life, and then the prosecution would have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the justification didn’t match the threat. Since he was unarmed, shooting him twice could ruin the viability of a self-defense claim.”
After being interrogated for an hour, my stomach turns at how they try to trip me up to change my answers. They ask if I had it out for him before he abused my sister, and if it was planned. There’s zero remorse, and considering the way they look down at me, I’m not surprised. I have no priors and nothing more than a speeding ticket on my record, yet they're treating me like a serial killer.
“Given the circumstances with your sister, they’re offering you a plea deal,” the detective returns and informs us. “One that’ll avoid going to trial.”
My lawyer nods at him to continue as I try to steady my breathing.
“Voluntary manslaughter. One to ten years in state prison.”
Manslaughter. Prison. My vision blurs, but I try to remember why I did this.
My lawyer leans in and whispers, “A category B felony means the killing was in the heat of passion and not premeditated. Much shorter sentence.”
I nod with understanding because I can’t seem to find my words.
“The judge will ultimately decide how many years you’ll get, but this plea bargain is your best bet. You’ll have court in three days, but until then, you’ll stay in the county jail.”
Those three nights were terrible, but life was about to get a lot worse.
The judge gave me eight years with the possibility of parole after five.
I’d do it all over again to protect Annie. No amount of prison time would’ve convinced me to tell the truth about what really happened. Knowing she and my niece were safe is what kept me sane behind those bars. They’re all who mattered in the end.
Chapter One