CARSON
The magazine came out this morning. Ten days after I sent the article to Grace’s editor. I sent out a memo to the associate lawyers and my interns to not interrupt me this morning. I know it’s just a matter of time before the FBI comes for me. Noah was nice and told me he would give me a heads-up when the FBI contacted the Asheville police department.
I turned on the news this morning and saw the arrests of eight senators and thirteen prominent businessmen. Grace’s story flooding every news network. I thought about grabbing a copy of the magazine this morning but I knew what the article said. And I know that my life will soon be like those senators on television. Luckily the news networks won’t care about me. I heard that Pennington was arrested for bribes and coercion through my contacts, his arrest not making the networks either.
I spent my morning soaking in my office one last time. Remembering what it was like to win a case. The feeling of power and elation that took over. The innocent people I saved and the guilty ones I let walk free. I reminisce on the career I built, one that had me ready to be a partner, to have my name on the damn building. But I let it all go for love.
Noah tried to talk me out of going to her editor for two days before I sent the article to her. But I told him it was the right thing to do. After all the things I did wrong, the lies, the money, it was the right thing to take the fall. I am just as guilty as the ones I defend.
I, of course, burned all the documents in my safe. The ones that I kept in case I ever needed them to save my ass. Of course they also make me just as guilty.
I packed up my office this morning. Put everything that was somewhat important to me in a box so it would be convenient for my family to collect. Although I am sure the FBI will go through it first.
I sip on a glass of scotch as I run my fingers over the edge of my desk as I stare at my framed degrees sitting in front of me. When I was a young kid excited about getting into Columbia for prelaw and getting into Duke for law school, I never thought this would be my future. Me sitting alone in my office, staring at pieces of paper that gave me power and now are taking it away from me.
I don’t even hear my office door open. So caught up in my own misery. I’m startled when the magazine lands on my desk.
“You’re gonna wanna read that,” Owen says to me.
I meet his green eyes, eyes the same color as Grace’s. “Why? I know what it says.”
“Humor me.”
“I thought you were done with our friendship?” I ask him, still not touching the magazine. He’s barely talked to me in the last two weeks since he punched me. Only cordial statements to keep the peace at work.
“We can discuss that later. Just read it.” He points to the magazine.
I pick it up but don’t open it.
“Why is your office packed?” Owen asks me.
“So it would be easier for my brothers.”
Owen shakes his head with a sad look on his face. “Look, just read the article. Please.”
I sigh and flip it open. Owen doesn’t say anything else to me but I hear the click of the door as he leaves the room. I start reading the eloquent prose of Grace’s words, just as striking as they were the first time. But when I get to the part that I know tells the story of Senator Williams’s beginnings, there is nothing about me mentioned. Pennington is mentioned, but no referral to the corruption behind the doors of Pennington and Calhoun Law. I drown in her words in the way the story has changed. Her editor must have removed every damning piece of evidence about me.
When I flip the page to read the end of the article, a handwritten note falls to the floor. And I recognize that handwriting immediately.
Carson,
Why did you do it? Why did you give this article to my editor? You are a fool. A downright idiot. You know what could have happened to you. And yes, I know I wrote the article. And I was horrible and used you and stole evidence from you that didn’t just give me the support I needed for my story but damned you in the process. I was selfish and stupid. I was so angry when I put two and two together. When I realized you weren’t who you said you were. That you lied. You lied to so many people to climb the steps to power. And I fell for that power. For that control you had on me.
I felt no shame when I first wrote the article. I thought I was getting my justice for those women, for myself, for the people stepped on in the process of you getting your power. But then I wondered why I was full of fiery, burning rage. And that’s when I realized I was upset with myself. For not trusting you. For not asking you questions. Instead, I just took the evidence and ran with it instead of finding out your side of the story.
I remember you told me you didn’t always do the moral thing. That you took missteps to get to where you wanted. And I realized I did the same thing. I lied and cheated my way into so many things to get the story. I never thought about who I was destroying in the process.
Owen told me a story about you one night after I let him read the article. He told me this story about how you were working with a kid who didn’t come from much. How his internship meant he may finally be able to get him on the path to buy his mom a house and provide for his siblings. But he fucked up on a case. And you took the fall. You nearly lost your job with Pennington for it. And that you fought tooth and nail to get your reputation back, including taking the immoral path. Owen said you never regretted taking the fall for that kid though. And now he has his own firm out on the coast.
I should have talked to you about this. I should have listened to you instead of thinking you were the problem, just like all the senators and businessmen I investigated. And I didn’t. I made that stupid mistake. It’s why I wasn’t going to publish this article. But then I got a call from my editor and she said she had the story of the decade in her hands. She told me I had one chance to make any last-minute changes. And if I removed any pertinent information, she would make sure the original copy was destroyed.
She told me you gave it to her. At first, I was pissed because why would you do that? Why would you incriminate yourself? Then I realized because I had already done it. And you told me you loved me. You told me I should take the leap and write the story. And I know you, Carson Taylor, to the deepest parts of your soul. And I know you were willing to lose everything in order to give me back what I lost. Just like that kid you took the fall for. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t destroy you.
So I got the evidence I needed. A Hail Mary. I pulled strings and was able to tie everything together and to leave you out of it. I guess I have friends in low places too.
What I am trying to say through this mess of a letter is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for thinking I could just give you up and not feel the repercussions of it. I’m sorry I was ready to throw you to the sharks and didn’t think about everyone else it would destroy in the process.
I love you, Carson Taylor. I love you so much that I was more than willing to lose my entire career, my dream, so that I could be with a man as honorable as you.