Robert Bidinotto - Hunter

Susanne just stared at him, as if she no longer had the capacity for speech.

“The only reason I asked for this meeting,” he continued, his voice rumbling deep and soft, “was to give you the chance to say these things to my face. Things you need to say, but weren’t given the opportunity to say in the courtroom. But there’s no reason for you to listen to me. Nothing I can say could ever undo all the suffering I’ve caused you and your husband. It would be insulting of me to even try to apologize.”

Susanne Copeland was trembling. A tear began a thin track down her cheek.

“Do you have anything else that you’d like to say to me, Mrs. Copeland?” Wulfe asked. “I’ll stay here as long as you want me to.”

She shook her head. Tears were now flowing freely. Annie reached out to touch her shoulder.

“In that case, doctor, there’s no reason she should have to endure my presence any longer.”

He rose to his feet. Nodded to Susanne. Then met Annie’s angry frown with a little smile.

You goddamned manipulative fraud.

Hunter rushed to the door, yanked it open. In the hallway, a few feet away, two waiting corrections officers leaning against the wall straightened when they saw him.

Two seconds later, the door to Wulfe’s cubicle opened and he emerged.

Hunter went for him. “Wulfe!”

The prisoner looked his way, startled. The guards jumped between them, one blocking his path while the other pushed Wulfe in the opposite direction.

“Hold on, buddy! You stop right there!” the nearest officer yelled to Hunter, pressing him back.

He stopped. He wasn’t about to hurt innocent people just to get at the guy.

“Look at me, Wulfe.”

Towering above the head of the other guard, the inmate stared back at him.

“See this face? I want you to remember it in your nightmares. Because someday, it’ll be the last face you’ll ever see.”

*

The three of them sat in a small diner on the outskirts of Claibourne, the old-fashioned kind that looked like a railroad car parked on the side of the highway. She and Susie faced Dylan Hunter on the opposite side of the booth. Annie suspected that he was hungry, but since they were only having hot tea, he stuck to coffee.

“You actually spoke to him, then,” Susie said.

“Briefly.”

“What did you say to him?”

He took a sip from his mug. “Enough.”

Annie studied him more closely. His was a masculine face, not pretty-boy handsome, but rough-handsome. Skin creased and slightly weathered, as if he spent his years outdoors. Deep-set eyes, constantly on the move, seeming to miss nothing. Cleft chin, broad nose, thick tangle of dark brown hair. She thought she saw a thin, faint scar along his jawline. He looked more like a prizefighter than a reporter.

Those eyes caught her watching him; she lowered her gaze to her teacup.

“You think it was all some kind of ruse, then.”

“Yes, Susanne, I do.”

“What could he possibly hope to gain?”

He shrugged. “Virginia abolished parole years ago. So he can’t be trying to suck up to the parole board. But his plea bargain minimized the time he’ll stay behind bars.”

Susie looked down. “I suppose you wonder why I agreed to that.”

“None of my business.”

“Well, I want to tell you, anyway. It wasn’t so much the ordeal of testifying in court. Yes, I knew it would be hard to face my friends and co-workers if they had all of those…images in their minds. But that wasn’t the biggest thing. It was mostly for Arthur’s sake. He was having so much trouble with it. I couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him to relive it in court.”

“I understand.”

“And when their lawyers made it clear that they would really go after us at trial-well, I told the Commonwealth Attorney’s office I wouldn’t fight a plea deal. Not as long as they’d be convicted of a sex crime of some sort. I wanted them branded as sex criminals, with their names in a registry. So that other people would be warned that they’re predators.”

“You figured that if they were convicted for sex crimes, they’d be gone for a long time.”

“I still don’t understand why not.”

Dylan took another sip, put down the mug. Spread his big hands on the paper placemat. “From what I’ve been able to figure out, Wulfe initially was charged with rape and conspiracy to commit a felony. But because he didn’t actually assault you-”

“Only because the cops got there in time,” Annie interrupted.

“Only because. So they charged him with ‘attempt to commit rape.’ In this state, that’s a Class 4 felony-which means he was eligible for a two-to-ten-year sentence. The conspiracy charge could’ve added another year or so behind bars. But by the terms of the plea deal, the judge ordered the two sentences to run concurrently, not consecutively.”

“So, their conspiracy-their gang attack-added nothing, then?” Annie demanded.

“I’m afraid not. Wulfe received just a little over three years. But with all these early-release programs, who knows what that really means?”

“What about the other two?” Susie asked.

“When they attacked you, Bracey and Valenti were still juveniles, if only by a few months. Still, because of the seriousness of the charges, they were indicted in circuit court. They could have been convicted and sentenced as adults. But again, the plea bargains changed all that. They bounced those two back to the juvie system. Which, as we know, is a joke. Since they didn’t have any serious previous convictions, they were eligible for shorter sentences.”

“Even though we know they probably both committed murders in the past?”

“Even though.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Crazy. And immoral. Because our so-called justice system has nothing to do with justice.”

“So what happens to Bracey and Valenti now?”

Annie thought something moved in his eyes.

“They were in sex-offender ‘therapy’ in the juvenile correction centers. Then they were transferred to a ‘community-based alternative’ in Alexandria called Youth Horizons. It is a group home in a residential neighborhood. When I wrote my article last week, I thought these guys were still living there, locked up.”

“They’re not?” Susie looked shocked.

Dylan shook his head. “All they really have to do is show up each morning for four hours of counseling. In the afternoons, they’re released, supposedly to look for jobs. But at night, those two are out roaming the streets. You can thank the idiots promoting all these ‘alternatives to incarceration’ programs. They’re responsible for- Something wrong, Annie?”

She tried to cover her reaction. “Sorry. I, I just remembered-I have to visit someone tonight.”

“Anyway, next year, when they turn twenty-one, they can’t be held any longer. But I think they’ll be out even sooner, because they get months of ‘good behavior’ credits that shorten their sentences.”

“You’re telling me these animals will serve less than three years , then be back on the streets?”

“Susanne, I’m telling you they’re already back on the streets.”

She put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this. They took my Arthur forever, and they lose only three years of their lives.”

Dylan turned away and looked at the passing traffic.

“I appreciate your honesty. I wish the prosecutor had been this honest with me.”

They were silent for a moment. Then Susie spoke again. “Dylan, for a reporter, you’re unusually sympathetic to crime victims. I was thinking. I’d like to invite you to the next executive committee meeting of our Vigilance for Victims group. I think the members would like to meet you.”