Free Death Sentence by Jerry Bledsoe

drinking.”
    Ronnie and Pam had to admit that was true. They had seen their mother just as unable to function as their father. Several times Ronnie had spoken to her about it. She had to have the medicine, she told him. He knew how bad her nerves were. It was the only way she could get by.
    But she didn’t have to take more than the doctor prescribed, Ronnie pointed out. She knew that, she told him. And she would do more to control her dosage.
    In March, after Thomas staggered home drunk one Saturday night and a shouting match ensued, Velma told him that she was leaving. “I can’t put up with this anymore,” she screamed.
    Thomas passed out on the couch while Velma, sobbing, was packing her clothes. She was going to her parents’ house, and Pam was leaving with her.
    “What are you going to do?” Velma asked Ronnie.
    “Somebody’s got to stay here and look after him,” he said.
    Thomas woke up with a severe hangover the next morning and went in search of aspirin. “Where’s Pam and your mama?” he asked.
    “They left,” Ronnie said. “Mama’s left you. She wants a divorce.”
    Thomas couldn’t believe it. He professed no memory of the previous night, and Ronnie knew this probably was true. His father rarely remembered anything that happened during his drunken bouts. He grew morose and quiet, and Ronnie suggested that they drive to Fayetteville to have lunch.
    “I never thought it would come to this,” Thomas told his son as he picked at his food.
    “Your drinking is what’s caused it,” Ronnie said.
    Thomas came back with his familiar line about Velma’s pills.
    “Yes, but she’s working on it, and you’re not.”
    Thomas grew contrite. He would change, he promised. “I’d like to see us try to make it as a family again.”
    “Pam and I would, too,” Ronnie told him. “It’s been tough on us, you know.”
    “I know it has, and I’m going to make it better.”
    Ronnie later reported this to his mother, and after several days she and Pam returned. Velma knew how desperately Ronnie wanted them to be a family again. For a few days the fragile peace held. Thomas didn’t drink; Velma didn’t take as many pills. But they seemed unable to communicate any longer. Within a week the anger and shouting had returned, but that soon would be ended by a silence that would last forever.
    On the weekend of April 19-20, Ronnie stayed with his grandparents. When things got bad at home, he and Pam knew that they always could find refuge at Murphy and Lillie’s house.
    Ronnie got up Monday morning and went to school without going home. He was in his last class when the town’s fire siren went off, summoning the volunteer firefighters. The siren caused Ronnie no concern, and when school let out a half hour later, he waited outside for Pam. They usually walked home together. The two had crossed the school’s broad front lawn when they heard a car horn. Ronnie was surprised to see his mother sitting in the front seat of a car belonging to a local merchant, Fred Bodenheimer. Mrs. Bodenheimer was behind the wheel. Ronnie could tell that his mother had been crying.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked, bending to the open window, but she began sobbing and couldn’t answer.
    “Get in,” said Mrs. Bodenheimer, who was serving as Good Samaritan. “Your daddy’s been in an accident. We’ve got to go.”
    She seemed extremely anxious, and Ronnie and Pam obeyed. Both realized from their mother’s distress that the situation must be bad, but despite repeated questions they couldn’t find out what had happened. Ronnie figured his father had been in another wreck.
    “He’s going to be okay,” Mrs. Bodenheimer kept telling Velma, but she could not be consoled.
    “I know he’s not, I know he’s not,” she kept repeating, still sobbing.
    They went first to Highsmith Hospital in Fayetteville, only to be told that Thomas had been there but had been taken to Cape Fear Valley Hospital. “They’re better equipped to