Chapter 23 - The Man on the Other Side
Garrett transitioned out of custody in his early sixties after serving the substantial custodial term required under his aggregate sentence, subject to lawful credits and supervised-release conditions.
I was fifty-eight.
He was sixty-one.
He had heart problems.
Gray hair.
No wealth empire.
His remaining lawful Vale assets had been reduced by legal fees, restitution, civil settlements, and years of ordinary costs but not entirely gone.
He rented a supervised apartment near Richmond initially? Maybe Maryland? Terms prevent contact and Hayes properties. Let's say Delaware to avoid.
No contact with me, Tobias, Penelope except approved.
He found part-time work in document archiving for a logistics nonprofit? Financial restrictions. Maybe warehouse inventory. Good.
Then he requested mediated meeting with me.
I said no.
A year later, no request.
At sixty-three, he asked once through victim services.
I surprised myself.
“Yes.”
Daniel offered to come.
I said:
“No. Pick me up after.”
Neutral room.
Garrett entered.
I almost did not recognize.
Then eyes.
Same.
“Rosalind.”
“Garrett.”
He sat.
“I won’t ask forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Then I asked one question I had carried for thirty years? Actually 25.
“When did you decide to kill me?”
He looked down.
“After North Harbor vote.”
That was about fourteen months before river maybe.
“Not when you married me?”
“No.”
“Did you marry for access?”
“Yes.”
“Only?”
“No.”
I hated relief.
Then:
“When did you love me?”
“Before proposal.”
“Did that change plan?”
“For a while.”
Then:
“Why not leave?”
“Because leaving meant admitting I could not control outcome.”
There.
Then Penelope.
“Did you plan to kill her?”
“No.”
“Did you plan to remove her?”
“Yes.”
“Through incapacity?”
“Maybe. I wanted her dependent.”
He did not make himself better.
Then parents.
“Did you ever consider telling me about Victor?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Every anniversary.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Then chose no.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Did you think I would protect you?”
“No. I thought you’d leave.”
Exactly.
Then he asked:
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
Then:
“Did shipyard survive?”
I almost laughed.
“You know public reports.”
“I mean family.”
I thought.
“Yes.”
Not because of him.
Then:
“Do you forgive me?”
I had expected question despite promise.
I looked at him.
“I don't organize my life around whether I forgive you.”
He nodded.
Better.
Then:
“You’re not getting relationship.”
“I know.”
“No letters.”
“I know.”
“No messages through Julian.”
“I know.”
Then he said:
“I’m sorry I took your name.”
That surprised me.
I smiled sadly.
“You never took it.”
He looked up.
“You used it.”
Difference.
We left.
Daniel waited across street in bookstore café.
He asked:
“Done?”
“Yes.”
Then bought me tea.
No debrief until I asked.
That night, rain.
I slept.
May you like
No river dream.
That was when I knew meeting had not reopened anything.
