Chapter 14 - The Sentence
Tomas was also convicted in separate/combined proceedings of:
Attempted fraud involving forged trust documents.
Forgery.
Attempted grand larceny by false pretenses tied to proposed family recovery fund.
Obstruction related to false statements and document concealment.
Some counts merged.
The children lost no trust money to his 2026 scheme because nobody transferred funds.
Restitution for attempted scheme covered investigative/accounting costs where allowed, not the entire $600,000 he hoped to collect.
Then sentencing for Robert.
Second degree murder carried substantial prison exposure.
Tomas was sixty five by then.
Defense emphasized:
Age.
No prior violent convictions.
Twenty years crime-free from homicide.
Family relationships.
Medical issues.
Prosecution emphasized:
Deliberate killing.
Financial motive.
Two decades deception.
Current fraud showing continued exploitation.
The judge imposed thirty two years for murder, with additional financial sentences partly concurrent, resulting in an effective term long enough that Tomas would likely spend the rest of his life incarcerated.
Not formal life.
But reality.
Before sentence, Robert’s victim statement came from me.
“I spent twenty years calling my brother’s death natural.”
Then:
“I told my children their uncle had a weak heart.”
I looked at Tomas.
“You let me carry wrong story because it protected you.”
Then:
“You did not only kill Robert.”
I paused.
“You turned his caution into evidence that he was difficult. You turned my grief into silence. You turned our children’s longing into a financial plan.”
Then I corrected:
“But you did not steal my children.”
They looked.
“They made mistakes. So did I.”
Tomas stared.
“You do not get credit for every wound in this family.”
That mattered.
Then Sarah spoke for siblings.
Not six separate spectacles.
“Dad, we wanted you back.”
Tomas began crying.
“That is why your lie worked.”
Then:
“You did not have to forge anything to have our attention. You had it.”
Silence.
Then:
“You chose money anyway.”
Michael did not speak.
He attended.
After sentence, Tomas asked court permission to address family.
Judge allowed brief.
“I loved you.”
All six children reacted differently.
Tomas continued:
“I know that sounds worthless now.”
Then:
“I did terrible things because I believed Robert was going to take everything from me.”
He stopped.
Maybe lawyer had warned no confession beyond conviction.
Then:
“I should have left.”
Yes.
Before murder.
Before fraud.
Just leave.
Then he said:
“Helen, I’m sorry.”
I did not answer.
No requirement.
Then he was taken.
Outside courthouse, reporters shouted:
“Mrs. Parker, do you forgive?”
I kept walking.
No public moral performance.
Then trust litigation?
None.
Tomas had no rights.
Children had distributions.
My share.
All clear.
Robert’s death certificate amended to reflect homicide due drug toxicity/contribution consistent with conviction.
The Hayes Trust had already terminated.
No hidden property.
No second box.
Then Robert estate technically closed long ago; no reopening except record corrections and maybe wrongful death? Statute limitations complicated. I did not pursue civil damages against Tomas because he had limited assets and criminal restitution/claims. No point.
Then Tomas’s assets.
A Florida condo.
Retirement.
Some investment.
His legal fees consumed much.
He did not become penniless by judicial magic.
Some assets subject to fraud restitution and debts.
Remaining managed according to his ownership.
No claim by me as ex-wife.
Then he filed appeal.
Expected.
I did not celebrate too early.
Then my children.
The trial did not instantly restore.
Sarah called daily.
Too often.
I told:
“Twice a week.”
She laughed.
Grace sent legal updates until I said stop.
Noah came for dinner.
Ethan returned Chicago.
Claire stayed weekend.
Michael disappeared one week.
Then came with pie.
“Store bought.”
“Disgrace.”
We smiled.
Then he said:
“I don’t know who Dad was.”
I answered:
“You know pieces.”
“Was anything real?”
“Yes.”
“How know?”
“Because real people can lie.”
That was harder.
Then:
“Did he ever love us?”
“I think yes.”
“Then how?”
“Love is not enough to make someone safe.”
The sentence settled.
Then Michael whispered:
“I’m glad jury didn’t say first degree.”
I looked.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Maybe because some part needed father slightly less monstrous.
I did not argue.
Second degree murder was still murder.
Families survive with imperfect categories.
Then we ate pie.
May you like
No candles.
No empty chair counted.
