“I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s no danger to society.”
“I understand that he also maintained he had nothing to do with it.”
“Even on his last visit, he turned to me, and he repeated, ‘You know that I didn’t do this. I’m as much of a victim as my sister.’”
“And you believed him?” It was hard to not question the parole officer because, when somebody was let out of jail, that parole officer was the one person who consistently saw the newly released prisoner over the following six months or one year.
“You know what? I do actually,” he noted. “I think he got a bad rap. He was in trouble at the time, heading down a bad pathway. He made a good suspect, and they ran with it.”
“There still should have been forensic evidence.”
“The problem was, he and the sister lived together,” he explained, “so hairs and fibers were all over the place.”
“Of course. Did they ever find the location where she was held?”
“You tell me,” he snapped, his tone turning hard. “As far as I’m concerned, the system railroaded this kid into confessing, and that ended his life.”
“Or made it,” she added quietly.
After a moment’s hesitation, the parole officer grudgingly acceded. “Or made it. You’re right. He was into drugs and gangs prior to this.”
“Interesting. I wonder if it wasn’t him. I wonder if it could have been somebody affiliated with the gang.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you can solve it, then that kid has got some relief coming for all the years he sat in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Other than that, I’ve got nothing to offer.”
When she hung up, she looked down at her notes, wrote them up on her file and sat back.
“What was that all about?” Rodney asked, as he walked toward her with two cups of coffee.
She looked at him in surprise. “What’s this? I get served now?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “You’ve bought me a couple.”
“That’s true.” At that, she picked up the hot brew gently and replied, “I just talked to the parole officer. The kid was apparently a model prisoner. While he was inside, he got his degree in English Lit and is looking to become a teacher.”
At that, Rodney’s eyebrows shot up. “With a criminal record?”
“Well, he was a minor when he was charged and convicted.”
“Right,” he agreed, with an eye roll, “so everything gets expunged.”
“Sealed, at least.”
“Same diff,” he muttered. “I wonder where the morality is on those, you know? When you apply for a job and when they ask all those questions, like if you can be bonded or if you have a criminal record? What do you actually say if it’s been expunged?”
“I guess he could say no. How crazy is that?” she added, shaking her head.
“But then if he were to say yes, and then if they ask more about it, then go do a criminal record check, nothing will show up, so he just looks like a liar.”
“Right,” she noted. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. The parole officer also said that he’d never done anything wrong. He followed all the rules and regulations, and, on his very last day, he walked out the door, saying he was innocent of all charges.”
“Great, so we’re nowhere.”
“Not necessarily. I do have his last known residence.”
“Where’s that?”
“Well, that’s the part I don’t understand. It appears he has moved back in with his parents.”