Chapter 33 - The Glass Barrier
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Two days before the formal indictments were unsealed, I did something everyone advised me against. I requested a private visitation session with Owen at the Cook County Department of Corrections.
The visitation room smelled of industrial floor cleaner and stale air. I sat on a hard plastic chair behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass, waiting quietly until the heavy steel door on the opposite side opened.
Owen walked in, escorted by a guard.
He looked terrible. He was wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit, his hair was unwashed, and the sharp, arrogant posture he had maintained for years was completely broken. He looked smaller, older, and deeply afraid.
He sat down, slowly picking up the black plastic telephone receiver attached to the wall. I picked up mine.
"Clara," he whispered, his voice trembling through the speaker.
"You came. Thank God. You have to tell them, Clara. You have to tell the prosecutors I didn't know about Vance's illegal schemes. I was just following orders!"
I looked at him through the glass, feeling no anger, no hatred, and no lingering pain. I felt only a profound, quiet pity for a man who had traded his entire humanity for the illusion of power.
"I didn't come here to save you, Owen," I said, my voice steady and cold.
"I came to look at you one last time."
"Clara, please!" he begged, pressing his hand against the glass.
"We were married! We shared a life! You loved me once!"
"I loved the man I thought you were," I corrected him softly.
"But that man never existed. You were just a weak bully who thought he could hit a woman to feel big, and steal money to feel important."
"I can change!" he choked out, tears filling his eyes.
"I can tell them everything about Vance! Just help me get a deal!"
"The math is already done, Owen," I said, rising slowly from my chair.
"The grand jury has already signed the indictments. You're going to prison for a very long time. And while you're in there, I want you to remember one thing."
He stared at me, his lip quivering.
"I didn't destroy you, Owen," I whispered into the receiver.
May you like
"You destroyed yourself. I just kept the receipts."
I hung up the phone, turned my back on his desperate pounding against the glass, and walked out into the cold, clean air.
