Firefighter's Virgin

“I’m sure it was him,” she said, without any information. “Police officers are always mixed up in shady affairs. And they meet criminals on a daily basis; he must have set Brent up.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, in annoyance. “Phil is a firefighter! He is not a police officer. And even if he were, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He doesn’t do or deal drugs. The drug dealer here is your son!”

“How can you say that, Megan?” Mom asked tearfully.

“Because it’s true.”

“This is all just a crazy misunderstanding,” Dad said with certainty. “I’m sure they’ll clear him of all charges in a trial.”

“Brent’s trial took place three days ago, Dad,” I said, deciding to pull off the bandage. “He was sentenced to ten years in prison.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone, and then suddenly, I noise erupted. Mom was screaming, and Dad was yelling at her to be quiet because I was obviously joking.

“I’m not joking, Dad,” I said, as loud as I could. “I wouldn’t joke about this. Brent is in prison, and he will be for a long time.”

“Caitlin,” Dad practically had to scream. “Get off the phone so I can speak to Megan…now!”

Mom’s response was to keep wailing into the phone. I heard some static on the other line and then a click as Dad hung up. Less than a minute later, I heard him wrestle the phone away from her and then the wailing became background noise.

“Megan, is this a joke?” he asked harshly.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Is it true?”

“Is Brent really guilty?” I said. “Yes, he is without a doubt a hundred percent guilty. The evidence against him was overwhelming and his ‘business partner’ outed him.”

“He could have been lying?”

“But he’s not,” I said. “He had texts to prove that he and Brent were in it together.”

“This is crazy… I…”

“I have the name and number of the officer who handled Brent’s arrest and case. I can pass his number on to you if you have any questions.”

“I definitely have questions—and not all of them for him.”

“What—”

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this sooner?”

“Because… I was scared to,” I admitted. “At first… there was nothing to tell and then when it became clear there was… I just—”

“What happened with the other one? Phil?” Dad interrupted.

“All charges against Phil were dropped,” I said. “He was set up by Brent, Dad… He had nothing to do with any of this. Brent knew how to get into Phil’s apartment because I had mentioned Phil’s spare key one time while he was in the room. He didn’t even have to break in, he just used the key, stashed the drugs, and then sent an anonymous tip to the police.”

“You should have called us. We could have done something.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” I said. “And in any case, there was nothing you should have done.”

“What does that mean?”

“Brent is a child, Dad,” I said. “He was not prepared to be an adult, which was why he kept making bad choices—these are the consequences of those choices, and he needs to feel them in order to learn.”

“He is your brother—”

“And he nearly put the love of my life behind bars for a crime he committed,” I said, as my anger revealed itself in my tone. “And, you know what? I don’t think he cared at all that he was framing an innocent man. And that should bother you, Dad; that should make you realize that your son needs help. Maybe prison is the help he needs.”