Free Beyond Justice by Joshua Graham Page A

due to the illegal search.  
    Walden, however, entered the original child pornography found in my network directory at the firm as evidence.  He planned to profile me as sexual deviant who raped and killed his own daughter.  The murder and assault weapons—a Henckels International classic 8-inch stainless-steel chef’s knife, Aaron’s aluminum baseball bat—both with my fingerprints, had been found in my garbage containers out at the side of my garage.
    I had no alibi.  Though there were dozens of cars driving on the I-52 that night, who could possibly ID me in a moving vehicle—in the dark?
    There was, however, one ace in the hole that could make all the difference between execution and exoneration: my DNA results.  Unfortunately, the report wouldn’t be back until well into the trial.  And having what they considered enough physical evidence plus witnesses to testify against my character, the prosecution was certain they would get a big fat G.
    ___________________
     
    With each day more heart-breaking than the last, I had to limit my visits with Aaron to once every three days.  I simply couldn’t afford the gas or parking.  And time was running out.  I had to work with Rachel on the case.
    By Thanksgiving, I received the first of my medical bills since the insurance ran out.  There was no way I could pay it.  Even if I liquidated everything, sold the car, the house, there was barely enough for another month.  At current market value, the profit margin looked anemic.  We had taken a home equity loan and spent the money on that stupid home theater system I’d always wanted, and the swimming pool.  Now, the water company and SDG&E were threatening to shut off service.
    With a heavy heart, I put the house on the market—Jenn’s beautiful dream house which she had made our home.  I nearly wept when I signed the listing agreement with my agent.
    For days on end, I racked my brain, trying to work up theories on who the killer might be, and why he’d chosen my family.  But I always came up empty.
    All the while, I kept Dave and the Bible study group at arm’s length.  The day after they’d kindly offered to pray for Aaron, I got arrested.  My one little venture into religion had left a bitter aftertaste.  Despite my appreciation for all they had done, I would never let my guard down like that again.  At this point, I simply couldn’t deal with a bunch of religious people.
    A month later, however, out of a job, money, and hope, I had come to the end of my rope, the end of myself.  On Thanksgiving day, a knock came at the door.  It was Dave.
    "Hope I’m not bothering you."
    I invited him in, offered him a drink.  We sat and bantered at the breakfast nook table.
    "How’s Aaron doing?" Dave asked.
    I shook my head and studied the days-old crumbs on the table.  "He’s still in the primary stage of his coma.  The doctor says his GCS is 3."  The Glasgow Coma Score consists of three components—eye, verbal and motor response, each rated from 1 to 5, five being the best.  Aaron was basically non-responsive.  With a GCS of 3, he was categorized as severely disabled—dependent on daily support.
    "There may be damage to the cervical spine, which means—" I felt a huge weight on my chest.  "It means he might suffer respiratory paralysis or permanent quadriplegia."  Right away, I pictured Aaron, alert and awake, lying in the hospital bed, confused and scared.  " Daddy, I can’t move... "  There lay a boy I used to chase around the house and scold for jumping on the furniture.  Paralysis from the neck down seemed as cruel as death.   I then recalled the image of Aaron trying valiantly to hold back the two big tears from running down his face, the last time I saw him conscious, the night I yelled at him in frustration.   Impaled with regret, I rubbed my temples.  Would that be his last memory?  Would he ever know how much I really loved him?
    The last thing I wanted to do was break down