Free The Death and Life of Gabriel Phillips by Stephen Baldwin, Mark Tabb

straw.”
    Rewind.
    “The down-and-out bums were bad enough, but the prostitute was the last straw. Yeah. He brought a prostitute into our home. Even introduced her to Gabe. Like all the other people he let sleep on our couch, John said she didn’t have anywhere else to stay. Said she’d just given her life to Jesus and she needed a safe place where her pimp wouldn’t find her. I shudder to think what might have happened if he had. I was furious. I threw out the sheets she slept on. I can only imagine what we might have caught from them. She stayed with us for three days until John found somewhere else that would take her. Three days. He even went out and bought her some new clothes. Like we could afford to buy some whore new clothes. I hadn’t had anything new in months, not that John noticed or cared.” Loraine let out a long sigh on the tape. “After that, I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. Can you blame me?”
    Fast-forward.
    “. . . mission trip. Guatemala, I’m pretty sure it was Guatemala. I didn’t think ex-cons could leave the country. He did. He went with a group of men from his church for ten days in Guatemala. I think they built a church. Like I said, by that point I was done. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what he did. While he was on the mission trip, I loaded up Gabe and myself and all our stuff, and moved here. Our house was completely empty when he got back. John’s stuff? I gave it to the Salvation Army. I thought it only appropriate. I don’t know how he reacted when he found the house all empty. If I cared, I wouldn’t have done it like that.”
    Fast-forward.
    “Yes, I found someone else. I needed to be with a man. A real man, not some . . .”
    Rewind.
    “. . . needed to be with a man. A real man, not . . .”
    Rewind.
    “. . . found someone else. I needed to be with a man. A real man, not some, you know . . . When? The same week; while he was on his mission trip. No, I didn’t think that was fast. My husband had been gone for a couple of years. Like I told you, John was no longer the man I married. And I needed a man. I’m sure he knew what I’d done. He had to know. The way I see it, I did him a favor. Since I went out and ‘committed fornication,’ he’s free to find himself a woman more suited to his new tastes. Whatever. I really didn’t give a damn what he did. And, no, I never thought he would retaliate like this. Do you think I would have gone through with it if I thought he would kill my little boy to get back at me?”
    Fast-forward.
    “He’d threatened me on more than one occasion. You won’t have any trouble finding witnesses to back up what I am telling you. It should be in the transcripts from his trial. That’s why he went to prison. All I did was talk to the guy. He was nice, and I was just being polite. I’d felt ugly for a long time. I got really big with Gabe. It was our first time to go out after he was born, our first night of letting him stay with a babysitter. But John didn’t think the guy was being nice. He said he watched the guy staring at my boobs all night. Like I said, I got really big with Gabe, in more ways than one. The guy said something, I don’t even remember what, when I walked past him on my way back from the bathroom. Next thing I know, John has the guy on the ground and has to be drug off.”
    Fast-forward.
    “. . . hit me in the past.”
    Rewind.
    “. . . answer to your question, yes, he hit me in the past. Several times. No, it wasn’t just when he was drunk. Alcohol gave him a shorter fuse, but sometimes he would just snap. You know, he would just explode and I would sit there and go, where did that come from? When he got really angry, I would try to get away until he cooled down. And, no, he hasn’t hit me since he got out of prison. Nor do I recall any threats made after he got out. But I don’t see how that matters. He is who he is.”
    Fast-forward.
    “. . . told me that if I ever left him, I would regret