Free Capitol Punishment (An Art Jefferson Thriller Book 3) by Ryne Douglas Pearson

was a mistake . Darren wanted to just curl up in a ball and fade away. To just be gone. Gone like Tanya. His living family didn’t even matter at the moment, and he had come here in the hope of resurrecting the old Darren Griggs, the real Darren Griggs, in order to save them. Now that wasn’t even a possibility as he saw it. He was on a slippery slope sliding slowly toward a steep drop-off. Slowly but gaining speed.
    “You all condemned the victim here,” Anne said with some accusation in her tone. “Your perceptions prevented you from ascertaining the truth. Your biases prevented understanding from developing.” She gestured to the smiling face of Jerome Wilkes. “You were prepared to offer sympathy to this man based upon the color of his skin.” And next to Robert Foster. “And to crucify this man because of his. Color is a color, people. A color. That’s all it is. If you condemn Robert Foster because of his, then you condemn me. You condemn all people with skin darker than yours to a life of explaining why they aren’t all bad. Think about it. Please. Thank you.”
    Anne never expected applause at these presentations, but it did come, if slowly. First one person would politely clap— She did do this free, after all —before a few others— I did think it was the black man without knowing anything else —joined in. She stood appreciatively before them as Rabbi Samuel Levin came from his front row seat to stand beside her.
    “Dr. Preston, thank you,” Levin said, hugging Anne. “I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say we deeply appreciate your time, and your wise counsel.”
    Some nods now, more applause. Anne guessed there were seventy-five minds in the audience that needed enlightening. Maybe she had reached five. Maybe ten. That would be a success.
    But there appeared to be one mind that might need something more. Maybe something she could offer.
    “There will be refreshments in the Weitzel Room, everyone,” Levin announced. He turned back to Anne as the audience began to filter toward the door. “Will you join us, Dr. Preston?”
    The man hadn’t moved. He still sat there, looking downward. “I’d love to. But I may need a minute.”
    Rabbi Levin saw what she was looking at. “Yes. Of course. I will see you down the hall.”
    Anne walked off the stage to where Darren remained seated. “Hello.”
    Darren’s head jerked up, his eyes glistening.
    “I’m Anne Preston.” She stretched her hand out.
    Darren looked at the hand. Somehow it seemed to be more than an appendage. Much more.
    “Darren Griggs, Dr. Preston.” He took her hand, shook it, then let go when he really wanted to hold on for dear life.
    Anne took the seat directly in front of Darren and swiveled her body to face him. “Thank you for coming.”
    Darren held up the rolled flyer. “I thought...maybe...I thought I might...” The mist in his eyes became a single tear from each that streamed over his cheeks. “I don’t want to die...”
    What? Anne might have expected a hundred reasons why this man would have come here this night, but that was not one of them. “Why do you think that’s a possibility?”
    “Because everything I...everyone I love is dying, and...” The tears came fully now. “...and I can’t help them. I can’t help them. I can’t save my own family!”
    Anne watched Darren bend forward, his head touching the seat as the sobs came in waves. She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently until the spasms ended and he sat back up.
    “I’m...” Darren wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
    “Do you want to tell me about it? About your family?”
    Darren felt the pressure in his chest build like the forces of a mighty river checked by a dam. The floodgates were closed, but not as tightly as a minute before. Before the question was asked. Do you want to tell me about your family? “Yes. Yes I do.”
    And he did, talking almost without interruption