He could only guess how his mother had learned he’d been arrested. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in his family since the day he left for basic training in California. He hadn’t even listed their names as next of kin on his enlistment papers, and he’d never looked back.
Six long years.
It went without saying: His parents would have nothing to do with him until he was willing to admit how terribly wrong he’d been. Once he realized his mistake, his parents would then be willing to welcome him back into the family fold.
Judge Walters looked up from the papers and again met his gaze, holding it for a long moment, as if gauging his character.
“Mr. Lincoln, have you been informed of your rights?” she asked.
Cade rose to his feet with the same awkwardness as earlier, gripping the table to maintain his balance. “Yes, Your Honor,” he said, keeping his voice flat. His attorney had given him a rundown on what to expect. He had no defense. He’d been drunk and stupid. He deserved whatever punishment he had coming to him. He’d take it like a man without offering excuses or justifications.
“The court hereby accepts your guilty plea.”
Cade assumed that was all that would be required of him. His attorney said the judge would accept his plea and then read his sentence. When silence followed, his gaze returned to Judge Walters, unsure and wary of what would happen next.
The judge glanced up from her file. “It says here you served in the military.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And were awarded a Purple Heart.”
He nodded and looked away. Like he cared. He survived, while Jeremy and Luke, his two best friends, had died. It would have been easier if he’d died that night, too. With every fiber of his being, he wished he had.
“What were the extent of your injuries?”
The last thing he wanted to do was provide a detailed list of the physical and emotional scars he carried. “I’m alive.”
“Are you sure about that?” the judge asked, with arched brows.
The question shook him, and he raised his gaze to meet hers, offended by what she implied.
“Are you continuing with your schedule of physical therapy, Soldier?”
If she asked the question, she clearly knew he hadn’t.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Can you tell me why not?” she demanded.
“No, Your Honor.” What was the use? His leg would never be the same. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. A limp that was a constant reminder that he had survived, while two of the best friends a man could ever want rotted in graves at Arlington Cemetery.
“I see,” Judge Walters said slowly. “The same holds true for the mental counseling as well, it seems.”
“I don’t have PTSD,” Cade insisted. What good would it do to sit and cry about what had happened? Grief was grief. You learned to live with it and move on. No way was he going to spill his guts to some VA counselor who likely didn’t have a clue of what it was like to engage the enemy in a firefight and watch your friends be blown to bits. It wasn’t no, it was hell no!
“According to the list of charges, it appears to me you are dealing with a lot of anger issues.”
Cade was willing to admit that. Truth be told, he was downright furious with the world. The memories of that last battle engagement clawed at him like an eagle’s talons, his sleep peppered with nightmares that his mind insisted on tossing at him like a hundred-mile-an-hour hardball pitch. He drank to forget. To sleep. To escape.
Alcohol had become his only friend.
“I am hereby sentencing you to three hundred and sixty-five days in jail with three hundred and sixty days suspended, giving you credit for the five days already served.”
Cade heard the soft weeping sounds of his mother in the background. He refused to turn around and look at her. It was bad enough knowing she was here to see how low he’d sunk. He doubted his father knew she’d come. He would have forbidden her to ever speak to him again.
His attorney grasped hold of his arm. “Do you understand what that means?” she whispered.
No jail time. This wasn’t what he deserved or had expected with a sense of dread and inevitability.
“That said, in light of your service to our country, I’m ordering two years’ probation with mandatory participation in both physical therapy and counseling. You will make full restitution for damages and serve five hundred hours of community service.”
Silence fell over the courtroom at the leniency of the sentence. The prosecutor stood as if to protest, but one look from the judge and he took his seat.