Chapter One
Six Months Ago
Daniel Jackson had been here before, not in this particular meeting room, but rather he had been escorted from his cell to plead his case, to sit with people for and against him. After this meeting, his case manager and The Commissioner went away to discuss whether or not he deserved to be a free man. He’d been denied twice which hadn’t surprised anyone. He was just going through the motions, Patricia said he ought to, because she believed he deserved redemption.
Patricia had been his free legal aid, assigned to him that night, so long ago, a different life now. Patricia had retired a few years back, but she still came to represent him, champion him, seeing in him something that no other person did. Was he worth saving? Worth all that effort? He certainly didn’t think so.
As expected Charles Goodwin was there, sitting ramrod straight, a little grey around the temples but no other signs of ageing, he clearly looked after himself. He was there representing his daughter, a key witness at the trial, eager to keep him incarcerated for as long as he drew breath. The great Police Chief wouldn’t look at Daniel, as if to deny his very existence or maybe he couldn’t stand to look at who the media had dubbed; The Personification of Evil.
Patricia gave him an encouraging smile as his case manager came in, a relatively young, bland man wearing a suit in desperate need of a press, he carried a battered briefcase that looked older than its owner. He too was going through the motions, neither for nor against, just assigned at random. He too would not look Daniel in the eye, he looked instead at his watch and sighed, he was acting as if the Commissioner was late, but he wasn’t.
The third, slender hand of the clock on the wall, marked away the seconds with a small jerk, tick tick tick. All Daniel had to do all day long was watch time ticking away, it wasn’t any different in this small room.
The Commissioner swept in, the guard holding open the door for him. He was holding three, inch thick files, and exuded a no nonsense air about him. The clock silently told the room that he was two minutes early.
‘Good morning everyone,’ he said and took a seat next to Charles, across from Daniel and his representation, adjacent to the case manager. Once comfortable and all his files neatly arranged before him, he leaned forward, pressing a button on the recording equipment in the centre of the table.
’I’m Commissioner Isaac Goldman, and I will be supervising this hearing which will be recorded,’ each person present was then named except Daniel, for whom, his inmate register number was read out. His new name had to remain out of all documents and would therefore be referred to as “The Offender” throughout.
Daniel’s case worker was the first to speak after a brief pause, ’I have a letter here from the current prison therapist, It basically gives an over-all diagnosis of The Offender’s psychological well-being,’ he passed this to The Commissioner who briefly scanned it, then added it neatly to the middle file on the table.
Daniel had no idea what it said, he could read it under the Freedom of Information Act, but he knew his own state of mind well enough. He was a killer, no doubt about it, he was caught with the proverbial, and literal smoking gun in his hand, and a body lying six feet away. There was remorse in him, if you looked hard enough, only not the kind his therapist was looking for.
The Commisioner, having closed his file continued, ‘I think we’re all of us here well versed with the reasons for, and against release, but for the record-’
‘I can’t believe the audacity of him, filing for parole! This whole thing is a farce.’ Charles Goodwin interjected, still not looking at Daniel, but waving a hand in his direction.
‘Mr Goodwin, an elected Judge passed sentence to The Offender, which we might not agree with, but have to respect. To call their decision a farce is, by extension, to call the entire Justice System of this state a farce. Now I’m sure you don’t want to go on record as saying that,’ the Commissioner pointed out.
‘I’m just saying that his parole will be denied every single time, I’m not sure why he is still applying-’
‘It’s his right to do so,’ Patricia said calmly, ‘so he will apply as many times as he sees fit. He has been a model prisoner and deserves the chance-’
‘And his victims? What do they deserve?’ Charles Goodwin had raised his voice, just as he did in every meeting.
Daniel had heard the same arguments twice before, he would probably hear them a few times more before Patricia stopped pushing him.
He looked at the clock, which he could no longer hear over those present, discussing him as if he wasn’t there. The second hand juddered endlessly forward, mocking him; tick, tick, tick.
‘Mr Goodwin, if you don’t have anything of any real value to add, may I strongly suggest keeping your comments to yourself. Ms Dupont, you say his behaviour whilst incarcerated has been exemplary, however I have here many records of violence, starting at juvenile detention.’
‘Yes, this is true, but if you look at each report—’
‘I assure you, I look at each and every report quite thoroughly,’ Commissioner Goldman stated.
‘Oh, of course I wasn’t… so you must have seen that in each instance, The Offender is a victim, never fighting back, which has led to many broken bones and even the need for stitches—’
‘He’s no innocent victim.’ Charles Goodwin said, which earned him a stern look from the commissioner.
‘I’m well aware of The Offender’s stints in the infirmary.’
‘Frankly he’s lucky he wasn’t killed.’ Patricia said.
Charles Goodwin mumbled something under his breath that sounded like shame, the commissioner either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him.
Patricia continued, ‘the Offender was just a boy when he was incarcerated, and an easy target. Instead of retaliation, he has found a way to avoid confrontation and stay away from trouble. This includes a job in the library, and in the kitchen. In both instances his work has been classed as satisfactory.’
Daniel doubted whether any of the prison staff were happy about giving a good report of his work. Satisfactory was probably the best they would admit. They all knew what he had been locked up for, he should have been protected by his new identity, but people talk, it’s human nature.
The next twenty minutes was taken up by what would happen if The Offender was released. Again Daniel marvelled at how much Patricia was willing to do for him.
Dependant on where he was eased back into the community she would organise for him a hostel to stay at, and had already spoken to a charity that found work for ex-inmates all across the state.
He didn’t deserve her attention, she should enjoy her retirement. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be released, there was nothing for him on the other side of the walls he stared at all day long. His family were long gone, and it turned out, he never had any friends worth a damn.
‘Well then,’ the Commissioner said eventually, ’I think I have enough to be going on with unless The Offender would like to add anything? He looked over at Daniel, who shook his head, Patricia had agreed she would do all the talking. ‘Very well then, thank you all for your time.’
‘If I may Commissioner, do you know how long it will take for a decision?’ Patricia asked.
‘I’d say a couple of months. You’ll all be notified,’ the Commissioner stood, switching off the recording equipment, and picked up his files.
Charles Goodwin shook his head as if he believed himself to be the only person of sound mind in the room.
The case manager stood also, said his goodbyes, following the Commissioner out of the small room.
Charles Goodwin slowly raised himself from his chair. ‘You’ll never breathe free air again boy,’ he said to Daniel, finally looking at him.
‘Mr Goodwin—’
‘And you should be ashamed of yourself,’ he poked an accusatory finger at Patricia, then left.
‘I don’t know why you make me do this.’ Daniel said, as the guard came for him, handcuffs at the ready.
