I was here in the precinct a few hours ago, ready to start my graveyard shift. I was trading stories with Buck and Anastasia about what crazy days we had today. Brick Stackhouse from Homicide walks in and asked if anyone wouldn’t mind switching shifts with him because he needed the weekend off to take his family to Miami. I offered my shift and he happily accepted. I figured that Paul would be at the bar with his friend. Why not enjoy a quiet night by myself at home?
As I drove up to the house, I noticed his car was still in the driveway. He never left. For months I’ve been trying to save our marriage, get us back to working together instead of battling against each other. But I wasn’t in the mood for his crap tonight. God must’ve kept him home for a reason, I thought. Maybe this was the opportunity we both needed to sit down and work things out...at least I tried convincing myself of that.
I parked around the back of the house and entered through the patio. The television was still on in the living room. A wrinkled blanket and two pillows were left on the couch. At first, I figured he spent his night drinking at home instead of the bar - that is until I saw two glasses on the coffee table, next to a bottle of champagne. Already, I was pissed.
Trying not to think of the worst, convincing myself with coincidental scenarios, I heard loud thumps upstairs, sounding like footsteps. Creaking
noises came from the staircase. And there it was, my worst nightmare realized: a woman who stunk of cigarettes strutting her flabby ass into my kitchen...wearing my silk robe, Mom.
Then I heard Paul’s voice shout from upstairs, “don’t take too long darling.”
My blood started to boil. I stared at this woman taking a beer out from my
fridge, spinning the cap on the floor. Runny mascara. Smudged red lipstick. Wild hair. No class. I wanted to pummel that bitch to a pulp. I know what they were doing...I knew what they did.
Everything that happened next was out of rage. I lost control. It seemed like a dream until I felt her throat squeezing inside my hands. Her eyes began to bulge. Gasping for air. She kicked my shins and dug her nails into my arms, trying to fight me back.
I dragged her into the living room and drilled my knee into her stomach. That should’ve been enough to keep her down. But no. I went overboard. I grabbed a bunch of her stringy hair and punched her face until it bled. I wanted to let her go but acting strictly on impulse I rammed her head into the wall. And then, I let her go.
Staying quiet was no longer a concern for me. I ran up the stairs and kicked open the bedroom door. Clothes and shoes were scattered across the floor. Stained panties hung from the ceiling fan. And Paul was lying naked on the bed with the sheets covering his slut-sniffing penis. He stunk of red wine and cheese. I got closer to the bed thinking of the worst way to hurt this man. Then I saw my handcuffs lying on the floor. I use it to restrain lawbreakers. Paul was guilty of breaking my heart. It seemed fitting.
He turned over with his eyes barely opened. “That was fast, baby,” he flirted with a goofy grin. I was repulsed. Embarrassed. I gave my life to this man...and he betrayed me...making love to another woman...in my bed?!
I kicked him over on his stomach and drove my knee against his spine while slapping the cuffs on his wrists. He offered no resistance, thinking it was something kinky. This wasn’t the first he’s been with this woman. No wonder
he’s been distant from me. A woman like me is too good for him, so he lusted for
the first bimbo he could find as weak as him so he could still feel important. “Hey baby,” he said, “Don’t I always put you in this position?”
“Why?” I stammered. “YOU BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU?!”
He spun around and looked at me. Terrified. Sweat rolled down his
groveling face. I grabbed his ankles and yanked him off the bed. He screamed in
pain when the back of his head smacked the floor. Handcuffs cut further into his
While he squirmed on the floor, I questioned him like a lawyer would a hostile witness: “Was it worth it? Worth breaking my heart? Humiliating my family and friends like this? How could I have allowed myself to stay married to a despicable loser like you?!” What hurt me the most was how he answered back. I thought he would preach a sermon of lies before begging me for forgiveness. Instead…he spat. That bastard...spat in my face.
Rational thought left my mind. Nothing but rage remained. Next thing I knew, my pistol was in my hand. I wanted to kill him, but I thought that would be too easy. So I hit him as hard as I could. The more he screamed the angrier I became, pounding and pounding until his blood squirted on my face.
Then I stopped in time for my sanity to return. Mom, I looked down at him and I swear I didn’t recognize him: a mask of blood, busted teeth, bruises the size of candy bars. I screamed and cried at the same time. He didn’t move. I
thought he was dead until I heard him breathing, barely. And that’s when I called the cops. Why did I do it, Mom? Why?
As Gina wiped her eyes, Sienna fought hard to stay professional, preventing her heartache from turning to vengeance. Paul was never one of her favorite people. Mother’s intuition suggested he was a man with a hidden agenda. Still, she accepted him into the family because he made her daughter smile.
Being an expert strategist, which she’s been throughout her law enforcement career, Sienna thought of possible inklings that could set Gina free from this domestic nightmare. Truth be told, she felt uneasy. After hearing this graphic story, there was no clean way to steer this case toward their favor. “What happened when the cops showed up?” she asked.
“Devastated. Their hearts sank when they saw me standing over my beaten husband. EMT’s carried Paul and the girl out on gurneys, attached to breathing devices. Sylvan and the boys stalled for as long as they could before bringing me here for processing. Have they done it yet?”
“I doubt it. Nobody downstairs wants to book you. They love you, have too much respect to book you like a common criminal. Not even Saxon knows what to do about this.”
“He needs to do his job. Book me on whatever charges I’m facing, and I’ll accept the consequences. At least my in-laws will be granted a fraction of redemption.”
“Uh-uh! No way! I don’t accept that! One bit!”
“Acting as my legal counsel, you have to accept whatever plea I wish to enter. It’s my choice. And Mom, promise me you’re not going to interfere. You or Alex.”
“What do you mean interfere? It’s my job to prove your innocence. Do you think I would sort to illegal meddling to get you out of doing prison time? You may question my anger as a parent, but don’t you dare question my integrity as a legal counsel. I honor that too much.”
“Mom, you know what I’m saying. Just don’t. Please. I know you still have
some stroke downtown, probably have a dozen friends in mind who you can call for favors. Not this time. I will take the punishment for my actions just like countless other criminals I’ve arrested for domestic abuse.”
“You are not a criminal, mija! Charges may be looming over your head, but you are not a criminal. I don’t ever want you to repeat that ridiculous statement ever again.” Gina stayed silent.
Sienna shook her head, denying the inevitable. “Based on what you told me, along with Paul’s testimony and evidence at the crime scene, I don’t see how we can convince a jury that you’re the victim. If he had put his hands on you first, then maybe this case would’ve been closed by now. The most I can do is – ”
“The most you can do is let the law prevail. That’s it.”