A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [133]
He takes a deep breath.
I’m nervous and scared. Scared to fucking death. The Day of my Judgment has arrived.
If you agree to plead guilty to all of the charges, they’ll agree to three years in State Prison, followed by five years of Probation. If you violate your Probation, you will be required to serve the full term of the Sentence, which is an additional five years. You will be required to pay fifteen thousand dollars in fines and to fulfill one thousand hours of Community Service upon release. Your driving privileges in the state will be permanently revoked. Your Record will be permanent marked.
If you force them to go to Trial, they’re saying that if you’re convicted, they will press for the maximum Sentence, which is eight and a half years. As far as the Trial prospects go, they are claiming to have thirty witnesses, a blood test registering your blood alcohol level at point two nine, and a bag of crack cocaine. If that’s true, as they say, it’s an open-and-shut case.
The fear is gone, replaced by horror. My Father stares at me, my Mother cries. Daniel looks at the wall, Randall waits for a response.
Fuck.
My Mother looks up.
Could you not say that word, James?
I look at her.
I was basically just sentenced to three years in Prison, Mom. What the fuck am I supposed to say?
Her lips quiver.
Please.
I clench my jaw.
Fine.
My Father speaks.
Any ideas?
No.
Do you think they have all of that evidence?
Yes.
What do you want to do?
I look at Randall.
What can I do?
He shrugs.
I can go back to them with something, but I’m not optimistic about it.
What’s that mean?
It means they probably won’t budge.
I shake my head, think about three years in a State Prison. A moment ago fear became horror. At this moment, the fear has come back and the horror is still here. Three years in a State Prison. Three years of savagery, three years of fighting and three years protecting myself every second of every day. Three fucking years.
What if I run?
My Father speaks.
No more running.
I look at him.
This is my decision, Dad.
No, it’s not.
Yes, it is.
You’re not paying for whatever it costs.
You gonna be in the cell with me?
No, I’m not.
Then I am paying for whatever it costs.
I look at Randall.
What if I run?
My Father speaks.
I won’t allow that to happen.
I ignore him.
What if I run, Randall?
There is a seven-year Statute of Limitations. If you stay out of trouble, at the end of that term, you’re a free man. If you get caught for anything at any point during that time, even a traffic ticket, you’ll likely be jailed, extradited, tried and forced to serve the full term. I would highly, highly, highly recommend against that course of action.
I put my face in my hands, speak to myself.
Fuck.
My Mother speaks.
James.
I look up at my Mother.
Sorry.
She’s crying and her lips are quivering.
My Father speaks.
What would you like to do?
I don’t know.
Would you like to mount a defense?
It’d be a waste of time and money.
Why?
Because I’m guilty of all the charges.
Your Mother and I will pay for it.
You’ve paid enough. I don’t want you to pay any more.
What do you want to do?
I need to think.
I stare at the floor. I’m guilty of all the charges. Three years in a State Prison is an eternity, a fucking eternity, and it’s likely I’ll be put in Maximum Security. I have never been there, but I know people who have been there. They did not come out rehabilitated and they did not come out resembling who they were when they went in. Addicts became Thieves. Thieves became Dealers. Dealers became Killers. Killers killed again. I look up at Randall.
Tell them I’ll plead guilty to everything.
My Mother interrupts.
You’ll be a convicted