65

Death Row

The tumult may have ended in the press and among the public, but the cons on the Row were not letting it go. They yammered incessantly, and Brady was convinced they were trying to drive him insane.

It wasn’t working. While he could rarely bring himself to even smile, he did enjoy a deep sense of contentment and satisfaction as he continued to read the New Testament and all the other material he could get from Reverend Carey.

When the chaplain discussed Brady’s maturing in the faith, he quoted Romans 10:17 from his own Bible: “‘Faith comes from hearing, that is, hearing the Good News about Christ.’ In other words, Brady, the more you read the Word, the more faith you’ll have.”

Brady told the chaplain that he felt mixed up all the time. “I have what I’ve always wanted—forgiveness and knowing that I’ll go to heaven when I die. But I can’t quit thinking about what I did. I think God has somehow kept me from the worst of the daydreams and nightmares, but it doesn’t feel right to even try to put it behind me, even though I know God promises to never remember it.”

“I don’t claim to speak for God on this,” Reverend Carey said, “but I’m not sure you should try to forget it, unless it keeps you from pursuing Him. Sin has consequences. Sin leaves scars. Your crime left a shattered family. I’m sure you feel that if you simply tried to push that out of your mind, you would be doing Katie’s memory and her family a disservice.”

“Exactly. How can God forget it?”

“Because He’s God and He chooses to and promises to. If you thought God was thinking of it every time He thought of you, how would you feel?”

Brady nodded. “I guess remembering just makes it more amazing what God has done for me.”

“You look good, Brady,” the chaplain said. “Still eating better and working out?”

“I’m actually running a little in the exercise kennel. Makes a big difference.”

“And how goes the memorizing?”

“Good. I don’t have much else to do. Besides all the stuff you send me, I only read a couple of movie magazines. I sure miss the movies.”

Gradually Brady began noticing that the guards were nicer to him, less cold, more cordial. They even looked away when he showered or was strip-searched. He still knew enough not to trust anyone and had not gotten over how Rudy Harrington had betrayed him. Brady guessed they were more than even as far as favors went. He heard on the news that the state dropped the lawsuit against Officer Harrington. Brady worried that that might encourage other officers to trade their futures for payoffs.

Administrative Wing

Thomas found himself overwhelmed with gratitude to God for allowing him some role in Brady Darby’s life. Thomas still had heartache. Dirk and Ravinia seemed stalemated. And he could see the pain in Summer’s eyes. Plus Grace was getting only worse.

But of all things, business was picking up for Thomas, if he could phrase it that way. It wasn’t that other inmates seemed impressed with what was happening with Brady. They heard it only secondhand, and no one knew too much about it because the work was done privately by Brady in his cell and by the two of them in an isolation unit. Everyone knew Brady claimed to have found God, but most on the inside were as skeptical as those on the outside.

And yet Thomas had been reinvigorated, and something in his earnestness or aggressiveness or urgency had made him a bolder witness. When a man asked to see him about some trivial matter or something only slightly related to Christianity, Thomas never missed an opportunity to contend for the faith. In season and out of season, as the apostle Paul taught, Thomas reminded himself.

And while no one else had come to faith or even claimed to, Thomas believed it was only a matter of time. He actually looked forward to coming to work these days.

One afternoon in the isolation room, it was clear to Thomas that Brady had something on his mind.

“I’ve been wondering about something. Do you think people understand what Jesus did for us? On the cross, I mean?”

“Well, not enough of them, obviously,” Thomas said. “You mean taking our punishment?”

“Actually more than that. Tell you the truth, I’m getting tired of just reading the New Testament all the way through over and over, great as it is. I’m starting to skip Revelation. I don’t get that at all. But I’m trying to do something when I read the Gospels. I keep flipping back and forth between them and seeing how each of them tell the same stories, you know?”

Thomas chuckled. “Theologians have been doing that forever.”

“Well, I’ve been looking at when Jesus died on the cross. And it’s just so different, really reading how it looked to them.”

“Different from what?”

“Different from what I remember. Whenever I heard about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins, I saw pictures of Him hanging there like some angel. It was sort of heroic, I guess. I mean, it was heroic, but those pictures made it look all saintly. Then there are the paintings of His friends taking Him down. And of course Him rising from the dead. In a way I suppose I knew that it had to hurt. There was talk of agony and pain and thirst.

“But, you know, now that I’m reading it straight out of the Bible and really studying it . . .” Brady had a faraway look.

“I see,” Thomas said. “It isn’t so pretty, is it?”

“No, and I wonder how many people are so used to hearing about it and seeing it in paintings and movies that they think they know what it must have been like. It makes me wonder if people really understand. I mean, okay, Jesus died for our sins and we’re all happy about that. But I think we say it too lightly. It was an awful, horrible death. To me, that makes it mean so much more.”

Thomas could only nod. What a joy to see this young man grow. The change from the wasted, lonely, broken boy to this vibrant young man astounded him. Brady’s eyes seemed alive, and while there was—as he himself had described—a deep sadness over what he had done, Thomas was certain that what he detected in the man was hope.

Later that afternoon, Thomas caught himself rhapsodizing while recounting his conversation to Ravinia.

“The son you never had, huh?” she said. “And he’s become what you always wanted me to become.”

“I’m sorry, Rav. I’m just trying to encourage you about your client. Nothing and no one can ever rival your place in my heart.”

She looked at him as if trying to formulate a response. “Well, anyway . . . ,” she said. “It appears I’m in trouble with the federal appeals court. They assigned an independent auditor of sorts who informs me I’m suspect because I don’t appear to be performing to the best of my ability for Mr. Darby. He accused me of being late on filing appeals, which we weren’t, but also sketchy and seemingly not interested in the process, both of which are true.”

“No such quarrel from the state?”

“Are you kidding? We have a hanging judge for a governor, more so than any since Andreason. The state review board is quicker to dismiss these appeals the more you push them. I gave them no reason to give it a second look, but they didn’t even give it a first. This federal thing is the last hurdle, and then Mr. Darby gets his fondest wish.”

“His fondest wish is that he could change history, take it back, make it so it didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, okay, and short of that he’ll take death because he now has fire insurance.”

“Brady insisted on death long before he came to faith.”

“Fair enough,” Ravinia said. “This guy is deeper than what meets the eye.”

“So what are you going to do about this challenge to your work ethic?”

“Take it to the Honorable Jonathan Allard, I think. Once the governor gets wind of what Washington is trying to do to one of his state’s inmates, it’ll be newsworthy and could be noisy. All I need is Darby’s permission.”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know, Rav. I mean, I’ll let Brady speak for himself, but I don’t think all this publicity is good for him. It frustrates him that he’s not free to speak for himself. He wants everybody to know his motives now and to assure them that he’s seeking no favors, no privileges because of what’s happened to him.”

“Then this will be exactly what he wants. No, he won’t likely be quoted. But Governor Allard can speak for him. Believe me, he’ll be saying virtually the same thing.”

Thomas stood and wished he had a window to look out. “No, he won’t. Allard would use Brady as a political football, making it look like he wants to give nothing to a condemned man. If you could be guaranteed that it would be clear that Allard wants the feds to butt out and so does Brady, that’s one thing. But if it can appear that Allard is personally putting the kibosh on Brady’s appeal, that’s the way the governor would want it to appear.”

“I’m resigned to acceding to his wishes. . . .”

“He admires you a great deal. He worries about you though.”

“Brady Darby worries about me? Whatever for? Oh, Dad! You haven’t revealed any personal information about me, have you? I don’t need him knowing about—no, wait, you didn’t even tell him about Mom. Surely you’ve said nothing about Dirk and me.”

“Of course not. He just senses a sadness in you. That’s all.”

Ravinia squinted at him. “Really? Well, he can ask me if I’m all right if he’d like. Meanwhile, feel free to assure him I’ll survive.”