Chapter 17
Two years passed.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm.
The restaurant was thriving.
Tony's program for kids was a huge success. He had helped dozens of kids turn their lives around.
Sarah and I were happy. We weren't in any rush to get married. We were content just being together. Being a family.
Leo was ten years old now. He was smart, kind, brave. Everything we could have hoped for.
I had started teaching him how to fix cars. We worked on an old truck in the garage behind the restaurant every weekend. He was a natural.
Rose was still with us. She had moved into a small apartment nearby. She came to the restaurant every day for lunch. She spent every weekend with Leo. She was the grandmother every child deserved.
Marco was still in prison. He wrote to Leo once a month. Leo wrote back sometimes. They saw each other once a year. It was enough.
We had found peace.
But then, one day, Detective Carter called.
He had news.
"Marco is sick," he said.
I felt my stomach drop.
"What do you mean, sick?"
"Lung cancer," Carter said. "It's advanced. The doctors say he has maybe six months. Less, probably."
I was quiet for a moment.
"Does he know?"
"Yeah," Carter said. "He knows. He's asked for a compassionate release. He wants to spend his last days outside of prison. With his family."
I thought about it.
Marco Rinaldi.
The man who had killed our father.
The man who had destroyed so many lives.
The man who was dying.
"Do you think they'll grant it?" I asked.
"It's possible," Carter said. "Especially if the victims' families don't object."
He paused.
"I'm not telling you what to do," he said. "But I thought you should know. You and your brothers. And Sarah and Leo. It's your decision."
I hung up the phone.
I called my brothers together.
I told them the news.
The room was silent.
"He's dying," Vinnie said.
"Yeah."
"And he wants to get out of prison. To spend his last days with his family."
"Yeah."
Tony was quiet for a long time.
Finally, he said, "What do you think, Michael? Sarah and Leo are your family too. What do you want to do?"
I thought about it.
I thought about Marco.
About the man who had killed our father.
But also about the man who had written that letter. Who had apologized. Who had tried to make amends in his own way.
I thought about Leo.
About how much time he had already lost with his father.
About how little time they had left.
"I think we should let him come home," I said.
Vinnie's eyes went wide.
"Are you serious? After everything he did?"
"He's dying, Vinnie," I said. "He's not a threat to anyone anymore. And Leo deserves a chance to say goodbye. To have some closure. Don't you think we would have wanted that with Dad? A chance to say goodbye?"
Vinnie was quiet.
He thought about it.
Then he nodded.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. If it's for the boy."
We talked to Sarah.
She was torn.
On one hand, she hated Marco for what he had done to her. For what he had put her and Leo through.
On the other hand, she didn't want Leo to lose his father without a chance to say goodbye.
And she didn't want to be the kind of person who denied a dying man his last wish.
In the end, she agreed.
We talked to Leo.
He cried when he heard the news.
"I want him to come home," he said. "I want to take care of him. I want him to get better."
We explained that he probably wouldn't get better. That this was about spending time together. About saying goodbye.
Leo nodded, tears streaming down his face.
"I still want him to come home."
So we didn't object to the compassionate release.
The other victims' families—some objected, some didn't.
In the end, the judge granted it.
Marco Rinaldi was coming home.
May you like
To die.
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