Chapter 7: What the Lawyers Said
The formal charges came through on a Thursday.
Okafor read them to me over the phone because I had asked him to, and because I needed to hear each one spoken out loud.
Conspiracy to commit fraud.
Forgery.
Financial theft.
And — because of Marcus Webb's testimony, because of the phone call, because of Route 9 — conspiracy in connection with a f@tal vehicular incident.
The prosecutor was treating it as premeditated.
Sonia Reeves's lawyer entered a not-guilty plea within the hour.
Vanessa's lawyer called my phone that same afternoon.
I let it go to voicemail.
The message was forty seconds long.
The lawyer's voice was smooth and professional and said words like *preliminary* and *negotiated resolution* and *best interests of the children.* At the end, he said Vanessa wanted me to know she was sorry for any pain caused.
Any pain caused.
I deleted the message and called my own lawyer.
Her name was Patricia Hale.
She had represented Lauren's estate after the accident, and when I explained everything, she was quiet for a long moment.
"She came to me," Patricia said.
"Lauren.
About six weeks before she d*ed.
She asked me to hold a document package under seal."
"I know," I said.
"Okafor told me."
"What he may not have told you," Patricia said carefully, "is that Lauren also updated her personal will during that visit.
She left a letter for you inside it.
I've been holding it for three years, waiting for the right moment to determine whether it was safe to release."
I sat down.
"Can I come in?" I said.
"Tomorrow morning," she said.
"Nine o'clock."
I was there at eight-fifty.
Patricia's office was on the fourth floor of a building downtown, quiet and lined with bookshelves.
She brought the letter in a plain white envelope and set it on the desk between us.
"I'll give you privacy," she said, and left the room.
Lauren's handwriting on the front.
Just my name.
*Daniel.*
I opened it.
It was one page.
*Daniel,*
*If you're reading this, I didn't make it.
And I'm so sorry for what that means for you and the children.*
*I need you to know that I never doubted you.
Not once.
What I found was frightening, but it was never about you.
It was about someone who got close to you because of what you had — your stability, your trust, your good heart.
Those things made you a target.
They also made you the best father I have ever known.*
*Please don't carry guilt about any of this.
You didn't miss the signs because you were careless.
You missed them because you loved honestly, and honest people don't look for what isn't there.*
*Take care of our babies.
Tell them I loved them every single day.
Tell Lily that the grey coat is hers when she's old enough.
Tell James that I always thought he'd be taller than you.*
*I love you.
I'm sorry I couldn't stay.*
*Lauren*
I folded the letter along its original crease.
Patricia came back in after a few minutes and sat down across from me.
"Are you all right?" she said.
"No," I said.
"But I will be."
She nodded.
"That's the right answer."
We spent the next hour going through the legal steps.
The civil case against Vanessa's assets.
The financial recovery.
The custody matter, which Patricia said would be straightforward given the criminal charges and the evidence of harm to the children.
When I stood to leave, I tucked Lauren's letter into my inside jacket pocket.
Patricia walked me to the door.
"She was very clear-headed," Patricia said quietly.
"When she came to see me.
Frightened, but clear-headed.
She said she wanted to make sure you had everything you needed, whatever happened."
May you like
I put my hand on the door.
"She always did," I said.
