Chapter 15 - THE PLEA HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN
The defense rested.
Before closing arguments, Blake requested another plea discussion.
He would admit misdemeanor battery.
He would accept probation, counseling, and a no-contact order with Lily.
He still refused a child-abuse conviction.
Quinn consulted me.
The final decision belonged to the state, but my view mattered.
“What would the plea mean?” I asked.
“A guaranteed conviction and protection order. Less risk. Less punishment.”
“And Sophie?”
“Family court remains separate.”
“Would the Lake Geneva conduct be acknowledged?”
“No.”
I thought of Lily sleeping with her rabbit.
Of Mason’s hearing aid.
Of Hannah lowering her voice while describing fear.
I also thought of trial uncertainty.
A jury could acquit.
Evidence did not guarantee outcome.
“I will support what you believe protects the children.”
“That is not an answer about punishment.”
“I don’t know what punishment is enough.”
Quinn rejected the plea because Blake continued minimizing the conduct and because the evidence supported the charged offense.
The case went to closing.
The prosecution did not call Blake a monster.
Quinn used his own word.
“He called a toddler a monster because she touched paper. The law asks whether his response was a reasonable protective action or an intentional, unjustified use of force.”
The defense emphasized doubt.
The video angle.
Witness guilt.
Diane’s lies.
My resentment.
The danger of convicting a man based on family history.
The lawyer was right about one thing:
Blake could not be convicted merely because our parents had protected him before.
The prosecution returned to the video.
“You do not need Diane Carter to tell you what happened. You do not need Lake Geneva. Those pieces explain expectation. The birthday recording shows the act.”
The jury began deliberations.
They asked to watch the video twice.
They requested the medical photographs.
They asked for the legal definition of intentional conduct.
Hours passed.
Mom sat alone in a hallway.
I almost joined her.
I did not know whether comfort would create reconciliation neither of us was ready to define.
Rebecca sat beside me.
“What happens if he is acquitted?” I asked.
“The protective order remains until separately reviewed. Family court still has evidence. Civil and criminal investigations involving your parents continue.”
“And if convicted?”
“Lily still wakes frightened.”
That was the truth.
Court could impose consequences.
It could not retroactively protect her cheek.
The verdict did not arrive that day.
At home, I cooked pasta and dropped the spoon.
Lily startled.
Then she helped me pick it up.
“Mommy okay?”
“Yes.”
She touched my face.
“No hit.”
“No hit.”
We ate at the small kitchen table.
My phone remained on silent.
For one evening, I refused to let the jury room enter our home.
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At 9:14 the next morning, the clerk called.
The jury had reached a verdict.
