Chapter 21 - Austin’s Release Date
Austin served longer.
When his release date approached, victim services contacted me.
My body reacted before my mind.
Knee pain.
Sweaty hands.
Rage.
He had been away for years.
Still.
Laura asked:
“Do you want no-contact protection extended?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Austin did not contest.
Through counsel he wrote:
I understand.
That was all.
He moved to Riverside after release.
Far enough.
Worked eventually in warehouse administration under restrictions.
No healthcare billing.
No financial control role.
No contact with Naomi or Kathleen.
Kathleen had moved on.
No relationship with Amanda initially.
Interesting.
He blamed her for teaching him.
Amanda blamed herself partly.
Neither needed reunion.
Then Austin entered therapy as part of supervised release.
Court requirement.
He wrote me one final letter through attorney.
I asked Laura to summarize first.
“No blame. No request.”
I read.
Monica,
When I hit you at thirteen, I thought Mom would punish me.
She didn’t.
She told the insurance company you slipped.
Then she bought me new shoes the next week because I had been “stressed.”
I stared.
Then:
I learned the wrong thing.
Not:
She made me.
I learned.
Then:
When I hit you at your birthday, I was thirty five. Nothing from childhood excuses that.
Good.
Then:
Robert Millican already knew about Kathleen. I know now that you did not ruin the investment.
Then:
WRS was built with money that belonged to you. I knew it by the time we terminated the trust. I am sorry.
Finally:
I will not contact you again unless you ask.
I never asked.
That was my boundary.
Amanda and Austin eventually resumed limited contact.
Not my problem.
Then family relatives.
Some thought I was cruel.
“Austin did his time.”
Yes.
The state decided sentence.
I decided access.
Different.
One aunt said:
“Life is short.”
I answered:
“Then spend yours how you want.”
No more arguments.
Then my birthday.
First big one after case.
Forty.
Kathleen threw small dinner.
Rachel.
Laura.
A few coworkers.
No family table.
No tire iron.
No Amanda.
I did invite Amanda to coffee the day before.
Not party.
Different categories of trust.
She accepted.
No guilt.
Then at dinner, Rachel brought cake.
I stared.
She said:
“Too much?”
“No.”
May you like
I cut first slice myself.
That mattered.
