Riven (56 page)

Brady snorted. “If I was like you, I’d have an easier time looking in the mirror. I already know I’m scum.”

“I’m just telling you, the closer you get to Jesus, the harder it is sometimes.”

Administrative Wing

Thomas went directly back to Warden LeRoy’s office. “Frank, I’m going to be needing to see this inmate on a regular basis.”

“Yeah, no. That’s going to be hard to pull off without everybody else knowing he’s getting special privileges.”

“No special privileges. I’ll change the rules for my office. Any inmate demonstrating a sincere belief and wishing to be discipled or mentored in his effort to become more spiritually mature shall not be restricted in his requests for personal time with the chaplain. How’s that sound?”

“Like you rehearsed it. But I’d have to say that just might work, within reason.”

Thomas was so stunned that Yanno would even consider this, he hardly knew how to respond. “Well, sure, within reason, Frank. He has to be in his cell for counts, meals, and to be taken to his shower and exercise. And the meetings would naturally have time limits.”

“This would put extra burden on officers who have to transfer him back and forth.”

“C’mon, chief. What else are these guys doing all day? What’s another trip to isolation?”

“Put it in writing for the review board. I’ll run it up the proverbial flagpole.”

Thomas would do better than put it in writing. He would enlist Ravinia’s help in crafting a document that would stand up legally—no holes, no exceptions, no soft underbelly. He left a message for her, then called Grace with the news. In the middle of telling her, Thomas began to sob and couldn’t speak.

“I’m so thrilled,” she said. “So thrilled. I can only imagine how you feel.”

“Actually you can’t,” Thomas managed. “It’s been so long.”

“I’ll let the people at church know.”

“Tell them to keep praying. This has only just begun.”

Thomas carefully studied his library, looking for just the right progression of titles to try to slowly but surely bring Brady along in his fledgling faith. When he thought he had it figured out, he put Grace’s tape in his player and sat weeping as he listened.

I hear the Savior say,

“Your strength indeed is small!

Child of weakness, watch and pray,

Find in Me your all in all.”

When from my dying bed

My ransomed soul shall rise,

“Jesus died my soul to save,”

Shall rend the vaulted skies.

Jesus paid it all,

All to Him I owe;

Sin had left a crimson stain—

He washed it white as snow.

“So you snagged a live one, eh?” his daughter said when she called back at the end of the day. “Good for you.”

“I know you mean that,” he said, smiling.

“Well, a little faith can’t hurt these lost souls. I mean, what else does Darby have to look forward to? He still dies in less than three years, right?”

“Right.”

“He understands that, I hope. He’s not hoping for some break because of this . . . ?”

Thomas assured her he believed Brady Darby was genuine and sincere.

“How long has it been?” she said.

“Sorry?”

“How long since someone really changed under your influence—and you don’t have to remind me that it’s God, not you.”

She had hit him right where he lived, and he had been thinking that very thing all afternoon. It had been a lot of years and a lot of churches ago.

His silence must have unnerved his daughter. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Dad. I was just wondering. Just saying way to go. You know we don’t agree on all this, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you mean it. So this has to feel good.”

Death Row

Brady didn’t know if it was because Chaplain Carey had planted the idea in his mind or if the man had simply been right, but what he had predicted came true. The more Brady read and the more he learned, the more he was overwhelmed by the love of God and His perfection, His power, His might.

Brady was still relieved, and nothing made his new faith waver, but he began to feel so low, so worthless, so puny that he could barely stand himself. And then came the memories: not as ghastly as the scenes of the murder, but somehow someone or something was bringing to his mind every last thing he had done wrong his whole life.

Brady could not even begin to count the lies, the people he had swindled, the trouble he had caused, the damage he had done. He started a list, but it went on for pages. The induction material said that prisoners were not allowed to write letters to their victims or their families or try to make amends without approval from the warden’s office.

What could be wrong with apologizing and trying to make things right? He wouldn’t dare try to do that in the case of Katie and her family, because he knew how that would look. But what about how he had treated his aunt and uncle, his mother, his employers, Agatha, his teachers, everyone? The list seemed endless.

He submitted his request to see the chaplain in private again as soon as possible. Brady had so many questions, so many concerns, he was unsure where he should even begin. He sure hoped he didn’t bug this poor guy to death. It was just that there was so much to take in, to understand, to deal with.

His life had changed; Brady could already feel it. But like the chaplain had said, it was not going to be easy. Verses he had already read several times hit him anew. And when he came across John 10:10 again, quoting Jesus Himself, it made Brady wonder.

The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.

How full could Brady’s life be on death row at Adamsville State Penitentiary?

64

Adamsville

The Carey house was too full. The whole family was there, and the news was so good on the one hand and so melancholy on the other that Thomas didn’t know how to feel.

He was always ebullient when Summer was around, finding himself with more energy than he knew he had. Thomas chased her and let her ride on his back as he scooted through the house on all fours. She squealed with delight.

He reminded her to be quiet when they got to Grandma’s room. Remission was but a memory now, and Grace was again bedridden.

The glad news was that Dirk had come along, and he and Ravinia had announced to Thomas and Grace that they were going to give it another go. Dirk was subletting his apartment and moving back home. Thomas was pleased, but he could tell Grace was worried. She wanted them back together, of course, but she had told Thomas privately that she hadn’t heard enough sound reasoning yet.

“I wanted to hear that they had a handle on what went wrong, that they had forgiven each other, and that they knew how to try to fix things. Short of that, I’m just not sure.”

She was right, naturally. She usually was. But Thomas believed they stood the best chance of surviving if they were together to try to work things out, and this had to be best for Summer. It had to be awful to be shuttled back and forth between estranged parents.

The next week in his office, Ravinia made one of her customary visits, and Thomas was able to bring her up to date on Brady Darby. He told her of meeting with him privately and playing Grace’s hymns for him.

“If he can stand that, he may be for real after all,” Ravinia said, laughing.

“He enjoyed it. Wants to hear it enough to memorize the words. I couldn’t get him to sing along, but I know he was moved. He’s reading the Bible and other Christian books, praying, memorizing. He’s even eating better and actually exercising.”

“Praise be.”

Thomas chuckled. “It proves to me he’s coming around mentally. A man doesn’t eat right and work out when he’s depressed. You still look dubious.”

“Well,” she said, “is he going to become like a monk, totally one-dimensional? I mean, it’s bad enough he’s a forced recluse like everyone else in here, but . . .”

“Oh no. He still reads his entertainment and movie magazines. I don’t see the appeal, but it’s a lifetime interest for him. But you know what he needs, Rav? A lawyer.”

“Please. You know he’s got Jackie Kent, the contract guy. Jackie’s jumping through all the mandatory appeals hoops, which are just formalities. Everybody knows nothing is going to happen there, especially with Darby continuing to insist that he doesn’t want his sentence overturned. Oh no—don’t tell me he’s changed his mind on that. I thought you were under the impression that this conversion—if that’s what it is—was not a deathbed type of thing. Is he planning to use this now? Because there are rumors.”

“First of all, to my knowledge, he has not changed his mind about that. In fact, he’s so frustrated with Kent that that’s why I think he needs you.”

“Me? You didn’t say me, you said ‘a lawyer.’”

“Well, you’re the best one I know. But what did you mean about rumors? What kind of rumors?”

“Hold on. He seriously wants to dump Jackie and seek new representation?”

“Yes. He’s confused. He understands there are mandatory appeals at all these different levels, but he doesn’t understand why his own counsel fights him at every turn. Rav, you have been bending my ear for ages now, decrying that these men seem to have lost every civil right and privilege.”

“And they have. And I know in most cases they have brought that on themselves, but they should still be entitled to competent counsel and have their legal rights protected—those few they have left.”

“Okay, then tell me why a man who simply wants to waive his right to appeal his own death sentence should not be able to do that. I can’t make it make sense to him.”

Rav looked away, and Thomas got the impression he was getting to her. “How deeply does he feel about this?” she said.

“Even with his immersion in spiritual things, this consumes him. I wish you’d talk to him.”

“I’d have to talk with Jackie first.”

“You’d actually consider it?”

“For you? Sure.”

“Now these rumors . . . ?”

“Yeah, well, we’re hearing that someone inside is leaking stuff to the press about Darby.”

“Such as?”

“Would you believe none of what you’ve told me has been a surprise? Even down to him listening to hymns in private meetings with the chaplain?”

“Oh no.”

“Who knows all this, Dad?”

“One too many, apparently. Why hasn’t anyone run with it? I haven’t seen anything on the news.”

“It won’t be long,” she said. “I think the source is shopping what he’s got. Or what she’s got. Some think it’s actually coming from someone on the warden’s staff.”

Thomas shook his head. “Heads would roll so fast in here if anyone was even suspected. I can’t imagine it.”

Ravinia shrugged. “You know best. Listen, get me something in writing saying Darby wants a meeting, and I’ll clear it with Kent.”

Even before the meeting between Rav and Brady could be arranged, Thomas suffered two setbacks that—combined with Grace’s regression—made him wonder if this new season of encouragement was over.

First Ravinia broke the news to him that the return to normalcy by having Dirk move back home had ended in chaos and set them back further than they had been before. They had apparently engaged in heated arguments, including one overheard by Summer, and Dirk was already living by himself again.

Ravinia tried to convince her father that, ironically, even after all that, neither believed the marriage was over. Yet.

“We’re going to try to cool down, reassure Summer, keep sharing custody, and take another run at this when we both feel up to it.”

So Grace had been right. It had been too soon, and they had really not had anything solid to build on.

The second trauma was that Ravinia had been right too. The
Adamsville Tribune
had apparently won the bidding war for inside information from one Rudy Harrington, who made enough from the sale that he was able to quit his job before being fired by Frank LeRoy.

The papers had been on the street for less than an hour before every other news agency in town and around the state, and soon the country, was running with the story. While Harrington had most of the details right, the pundits decided what it all meant, and by that evening the story hit all the tabloid news shows on TV.

Everybody from paid commentators to the man on the street had opinions about the Heiress Murderer and his finding that old-time religion.

Most called it an obvious attempt to sway the appellate court to stay his execution.

Hardly anyone believed it was sincere.

Many people of faith said they hoped it was real and that people should take a wait-and-see attitude.

It was the topic of radio and TV programs for days, though Frank LeRoy had taken action immediately. He announced that the state would file suit against former corrections officer Harrington for violating his sworn duty. He further stated that any leak traced to any current employee would result in immediate termination. And he decreed that no one within the state penitentiary besides himself and the chaplain would be available for comment on Brady Darby.

The warden’s comment:

“It does not fall to me to judge the veracity of a man’s personal beliefs. My job is to ensure that convicted criminals serve their sentences. Mr. Darby has been sentenced to death in this facility in less than two and a half years. Unless I hear otherwise from the legal system, our plan is to carry out that sentence.”

Thomas’s comment:

“No one knows the genuineness of a man’s heart except God and that man himself. I do know, however, that despite Mr. Darby’s profession of faith in Christ for salvation, he remains adamant that he will not seek any reduction, mitigation, or stay of his sentence. He insists, as he has all along, that he is guilty of the crime with which he was charged and will not cooperate with any attempts to appeal his fate.

“Based on such assurances from him, I believe his spiritual transformation is real and that he does not intend to benefit from this in any legal sense.”