Firefighter's Virgin

“You are Brent Jacob’s sister?” he asked, pointing to Brent.

“Yes.”

“And, you live with your brother currently?”

“I do.” I nodded.

“You gave the police important evidence pertaining to this case, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Which was what?”

“I found drugs in his closet,” I said.

“What led you to suspect that your brother was involved in drugs?”

“He was erratic, unpredictable, and he spoke about starting a business of his own, though he never gave me details about any of it. He was always at home, strange men would stop by the apartment and ask for him, and his closet door was always locked.”

“Did you ever suspect that Phil was doing drugs?”

“No.”

“And yet you believed he was guilty when he was arrested?”

Suddenly, the courtroom melted away, and all I could see was Phil. I tuned everyone else out and I decided to focus on him. So I looked towards him as I spoke.

“I didn’t listen to my instincts and I didn’t trust what I knew about Phil. He is a good man. He’s turned his life around and he would never jeopardize that by doing or dealing drugs. I chose to believe my brother over Phil because I thought blood was thicker than water. But I realize now that Brent may be my brother, but Phil is my true family.”

The whole time I looked at him and spoke, Phil never met my eye. I looked for a change in his expression but there was none. I realized how deeply I had hurt him, and I was also starting to realize that there would be no going back on this. He might never forgive me, and I would just have to live with that.

“So, it was a matter of choosing between your boyfriend and your brother.”

“I suppose,” I said softly. “And, I chose wrong.”

I sat there silently, while Phil’s lawyer sat down, and Brent’s lawyer approached me. “How long have you known Phil Roberts for?”

“For seven months,” I replied.

“And did you spent a lot of time together?”

“As much time as we could… We spoke almost every day on the phone.”

“And how often did you meet?”

“Sometimes as much as three times a week, but when he was busy, it would be only once a week.”

“So there was a lot of time you spent apart?”

I hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

“So he might have been dealing drugs—you can’t know for sure, can you?”

“I… I know Phil.”

“How can you say that when you just admitted to having believed he was guilty?”

“I made a mistake.”