Chapter 17 - SentencingThe judge sentenced Derek to twenty-six months in federal prison.
The sentence fell near the middle of the advisory range.
The court considered his guilty plea.
His lack of prior criminal convictions.
His efforts to assist restructuring.
His acceptance of responsibility.
It also considered the sophistication of the financial misrepresentations.
The duration.
The amount placed at risk.
The judge said:
“Mr. Clark, financial fraud often begins with the belief that repayment will make deception temporary.”
Derek stared ahead.
“You repeatedly assumed future success would justify present dishonesty.”
Mrs. Clark closed her eyes.
That sentence described far more than money.
The judge continued.
“You used relationships of trust as substitutes for disclosure.”
Twenty-six months.
Derek was allowed to self-surrender.
Outside court, reporters waited.
He said nothing.
Mrs. Clark rode with him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She almost said:
We’ll appeal.
We’ll fix it.
Instead:
“I’m sorry.”
Derek looked at her.
“Don't be.”
“I am allowed to be sad.”
He nodded.
For once, neither confused sadness with injustice.
Amanda heard from her attorney.
She sat at the kitchen table.
Twenty-six months.
Leo was three.
He would be five when Derek returned, depending on credits and release conditions.
A lifetime at that age.
Amanda felt grief.
Then guilt for feeling grief.
Her therapist later asked:
“Why shouldn't you?”
“Because he hurt us.”
“That does not erase that you married him.”
Amanda looked away.
“You can mourn the future you thought you had without wanting it back.”
That helped.
Derek had six weeks before surrender.
He asked to see Leo.
Amanda said no.
Not because she wanted punishment.
Because Leo's therapist recommended against it.
Derek accepted.
That mattered.
Instead, he wrote a letter.
Amanda read it first.
Leo,
You are too young for this letter now. Your mom can decide if you ever read it.
I was an adult who was supposed to help keep you safe. I saw you doing something dangerous and did not act. You fell. That was not your fault.
Amanda stopped reading.
Tears filled her eyes.
The letter continued.
You never owed me easier behavior because I was not your biological father. I owed you basic care because I chose to live in your home and marry your mother.
No request for forgiveness.
No explanation.
At the end:
I hope you grow up around adults who move when you need them.
Amanda folded it.
She put it in a sealed envelope.
Not now.
Maybe someday.
Derek surrendered on a rainy morning.
Mrs. Clark drove him.
At the facility entrance, he looked terrified.
“I don't know how to do this.”
Mrs. Clark took his hand.
“You learn.”
“Will you visit?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then:
“Do you think Dad would hate me?”
Mrs. Clark’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I don't.”
Derek looked at her.
She smiled sadly.
“But I think he would be angry at what you did and still love you.”
Derek whispered:
“Like you?”
“Yes.”
He hugged her.
Then walked inside.
Mrs. Clark cried in the parking lot.
She did not call anyone to fix it.
There was nothing to fix.
Only consequences to live through.
That evening, Leo climbed the condo staircase holding Amanda's hand.
Halfway up, he stopped.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Derek gone?”
Amanda knelt beside him.
“Yes.”
“Come back?”
“Not for a long time.”
Leo thought.
Then placed his hand back in hers.
“Up.”
Amanda smiled.
“Up.”
He climbed another step.
May you like
The future did not arrive dramatically.
Sometimes it was simply a frightened child deciding to take the next stair.
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