Chapter 17 - What Gregory Knew
During appeals discovery, prosecutors released more of Gregory’s messages.
I almost refused.
Then saw one thread with Tyler.
His friend.
Three days before wedding.
GREGORY:
I think Dad wants me to scare her.
TYLER:
Then tell him to go to hell.
GREGORY:
You don’t know him.
TYLER:
I know you’re thirty two.
That line.
Then:
GREGORY:
If Hartman goes under, Mom’s care gets hit.
TYLER:
You said her trust pays.
GREGORY:
Dad says trust isn’t enough.
TYLER:
Check yourself.
Gregory did not.
He could have called Laura’s fiduciary.
Could have verified.
He chose Malcolm’s fear narrative.
Then:
TYLER:
Does Ashlynn know any of this?
GREGORY:
No.
TYLER:
Then don’t marry her.
Gregory:
Too late.
It was not too late.
Until vows.
Still not too late.
Even in cabin, before bat.
Always choices.
Then message to Melissa.
Unsent draft found in notes.
I’m sorry.
No date.
Maybe after our engagement.
He never sent.
Then note:
Mom was right about Dad. Melissa was right about me. Ashlynn still thinks I’m good.
That broke something.
He knew his image depended on my ignorance.
Then another:
I want to tell Ashlynn everything after Friday.
After.
Future truth.
Always after immediate benefit.
Then father.
Malcolm’s prison appeal brief argued Gregory’s cooperation unreliable.
Courts affirmed most convictions.
One identity theft count technical issue? Maybe vacated due statutory interpretation? We can later say one minor count vacated, sentence reduced four months, major convictions stand. Fine.
Then Gregory’s prison program.
I did not track.
His attorney once asked if I wanted restitution updates.
Only financial.
No behavioral.
Then Melissa and I met in person.
Denver conference.
Coffee.
We laughed at how Gregory hated cinnamon.
Normal.
She said:
“Do you ever miss him?”
“Yes.”
No shame.
“Me too, sometimes.”
She had known different version.
Then:
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Same.”
We did not become best friends.
No trauma bond fantasy.
Occasional contact.
Then Laura.
I visited once in Oregon.
With her advocate and Denise.
She held my hand.
“You’re taller.”
I laughed.
“We’ve never met in person.”
“I saw wedding picture.”
Of course.
Then:
“Greg looked happy.”
“He was.”
“Maybe.”
“No. He was.”
I needed that.
Happiness and crime can coexist.
Then Laura asked:
“Did he love you?”
“I think so.”
She nodded.
“Malcolm loved me.”
There.
Then:
“That is why I stayed too long.”
No equation.
Then she said:
“Love is not a safety plan.”
I wrote that later.
We talked about ordinary things.
Marine.
Vantage.
Her father Walter.
She had been sharp businesswoman before injury.
She remembered numbers from decades ago better than breakfast.
She said:
“My Hartman shares were mine.”
“Yes.”
“He said marriage made them ours.”
I laughed sadly.
Same.
Then:
“You kept yours?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then she asked about bat.
I hesitated.
She wanted.
I described only enough.
Her face tightened.
“Malcolm never used bat.”
“I know.”
“Greg made it worse.”
“Yes.”
That mattered to her.
She did not want father blamed for son's exact act.
Then:
“He learned fear. He invented bat.”
Exactly.
Then Laura’s health declined over next years due neurological complications and age.
Not immediate.
She continued one letter a year with Gregory.
I never read.
Private.
Then Malcolm never reconciled.
Her choice.
When she died seven years after cruise, she left a will created under independent counsel.
Small? She had settlement millions.
She left most to disability rehabilitation foundation and Denise’s grandchildren.
A trust portion to Gregory?
She left him $100,000 held until release, with note:
This is not forgiveness. It is enough to begin without asking your father for anything.
I thought that was very Laura.
She left me nothing.
Good.
I was not her daughter.
She sent one personal note:
May you like
You did not save me. You reminded people I was still here.
That was enough.
