Chapter 21 - Richard’s Appeal
Richard appealed.
Of course.
Claims:
Insufficient evidence of recklessness.
Improper admission of certain financial evidence.
Issues around audio recording.
Jury instruction.
Appeals take time.
We did not attend every argument.
His conviction was not fully final until appellate process moved.
A year later, appellate court affirmed major convictions but vacated one overlapping child endangering count as merged with another offense for sentencing.
Sentence reduced by several months.
Not overturned.
No retrial.
Reckless vehicular homicide remained.
Insurance fraud remained.
Bedroom assault/endangering remained.
That mattered.
The live audio ruling upheld under applicable participant-consent/emergency circumstances.
No secret loophole.
No release next morning.
Richard remained incarcerated.
I felt angry about sentence reduction.
Noah shrugged.
“Does it change what happened?”
“No.”
“Then okay.”
He was healthier than me sometimes.
Richard’s civil debt and business collapsed.
Hale Home Renovation dissolved.
Not because court seized everything dramatically.
He could not operate while imprisoned.
Equipment sold.
Creditors paid what they could.
Some debt discharged later through bankruptcy processes.
We did not pay.
Sarah did not pay.
Trust did not pay.
That boundary mattered.
Richard’s family asked for help once.
His sister Melanie called.
“He raised you.”
I answered:
“Yes.”
“He made mistakes.”
“Yes.”
“Can’t trust help with his legal fees?”
“No.”
“That money came partly from house he improved.”
“No.”
She called me ungrateful.
I hung up.
No war.
No social media.
Just no.
At age nineteen, I read Richard’s full prison letter.
He wrote:
I used your guilt because I could not carry mine.
Then:
The worst thing I did after the crash was not lying to police. It was making you rehearse my lie until you started wondering whether your own memory belonged to you.
That was accurate.
He asked no forgiveness.
He wrote to Noah separately.
Noah never showed me.
Fine.
We did not owe shared privacy because twins.
Then Sarah asked:
“Do you ever want to see him?”
“Noah?”
“No.”
Me?
May you like
“I don’t know.”
The answer stayed for another year.
