That caught me by surprise.
“When I lived in Dublin, I fell in with a bad crowd. I started to not care what I was doing. I shoplifted during the day and sold marijuana and even some cocaine at night. It was turning into a very harsh and nasty cycle.” She took a moment to let her mind drift back. “I also got used to the money. And even the drugs.”
“I had no idea.”
Mary Catherine said, “That was the point. I’ve kept that part of my past locked away. I started a new life. I came to America. And now I have you. I don’t even want to think about some of the things I did.”
I was astonished but somehow managed to ask, “How’d you turn it around?”
“My family.” She said it like it was an obvious answer. “My brothers in particular. You know the story I told about my brother Ken and how he couldn’t come to America?”
“Yeah.”
“The man he hit was a drug dealer. It was no simple barroom fight. He meant to hurt that dealer. He wanted men to be scared of him so they wouldn’t try to use me. He gave up his dream to save me.”
I stared into that beautiful, delicate face and tried to understand what she was saying. I wanted to understand how to apply it to our family now.
Mary Catherine said, “You’re doing all you can for Brian. He has a good, strong family. He’ll survive, no matter what happens.”
I said, “I keep asking myself why he did it.”
“There is no why. It just happened. My family couldn’t stop me from entering that life, but they saved me from it. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Brian.”
I said, “I’m Catholic; I have to.”
We both had a laugh for the first time in days.
Chapter 13
I made the tough decision to not allow the kids to come to Brian’s trial. I wanted their lives to go on without the spectacle of seeing their brother in court. It wasn’t easy to convince them that this was best. Especially Jane and Juliana, who felt they were old enough to understand the proceedings. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it for them or for myself. Brian was the only child I could concentrate on at the moment.
It had been some time since he was first arrested, and I kept working on finding his supplier as well as trying to find the killer of Gary Mule. I wasn’t happy with my progress in either case. There was something going on in town. Something different and hard to explain. I had battled drug lords. This was scarier, because the killer could be anyone. Even a schoolkid.
A wave of anxiety ran through me as we approached the New York County Courthouse, on Centre Street in lower Manhattan. The thirteen-story Roman-style government building had been in countless movies, including The Godfather. It looked like something out of the twenties. To the south, I saw the federal courthouse, now named for former US Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall.
I had been through a dozen trials here over the years, but always as a witness for the prosecution. Being the father of a defendant was a new experience. It was a perspective I had not considered before. But I would in the future.
The high ceilings and ornate murals depicting justice spoke to the age and history of the building. I caught Mary Catherine taking in the enormity of the structure. My grandfather, walking on the other side of her, had been unusually quiet and held Mary Catherine’s hand as we approached the courtroom on the fourth floor. For the first time ever he looked frail to me.
The judge wasn’t on the bench yet, and Brian’s attorney, Stacy Ibarra, met me near the door, then led me into the hallway.
She had been a bulldog of an assistant district attorney, and now those intense green eyes met mine. Instantly I knew this wasn’t going to be good news.
The forty-year-old attorney said, “I spoke with the ADA on Brian’s case. His name is Chad Laing, and he can be a little bit of a dick. He said there was no deal other than a straight-up plea.”
My voice was louder than I meant it to be when I said, “To a class B felony? In front of Judge Weicholz? He’s a former Marine. He doesn’t know how to cut anyone any slack.” I saw the look on her face and realized how loud I had become. I took a deep breath and counted to five. Then I said, “This is Brian’s first offense. That jerk already charged him as an adult. I thought New York had moved away from the Rockefeller laws.”
“Look, Mike, I’m trying everything I can.”
“Can we beat the case outright?”
“There’s always a chance. But the narcs saw him dealing, then they found a dozen bags of meth and some X on him. They even have surveillance photos, like he was part of a cartel.”
“Can I talk to the ADA?”
“Why?”
“I’ve met Laing before. He knows my reputation. Maybe we can work something out.”