Chapter 14 - Letters from the Outside
Two months later, in early August, a thick manila envelope arrived in our mailbox.
It bore the return address of the Dayton Correctional Institution.
It was a legal packet sent by Patricia’s court-appointed representative, alongside a hand-written letter addressed directly to Ethan. Under the conditions of her probation deal and inmate communication rules, letters had to be screened by our legal counsel before reaching us, but Marcus had cleared this one, noting it was a formal request regarding her pending parole eligibility hearing.
Ethan sat at the kitchen island, staring at the envelope for nearly ten minutes before opening it.
Inside was a four-page letter written in Patricia’s neat, dramatic cursive.
“My dearest Ethan,” it began.
“I am writing this from a place of deep reflection and unimaginable suffering. The conditions here are horrific, and my health is deteriorating rapidly. The doctors say my blood pressure is dangerously high. Every night, I lie awake praying that my son will remember the mother who raised him, who cooked his meals, who drove him to soccer practice, rather than the broken woman who lost her temper on one unfortunate evening.”
I stood over Ethan’s shoulder, reading the words. It was a masterclass in guilt-tripping—zero accountability, maximum self-pity.
“Madison is completely lost without us,” the letter continued. “She is working a minimum-wage job at a retail store and living in a tiny apartment. It breaks my heart. Your father has abandoned us entirely. If you could find it in your heart to write a letter of support to the parole board for my early release in October, I promise we can put all of this behind us. I am willing to forgive Claire for her part in escalating that terrible night if we can just be a family again.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “She’s willing to forgive me? She hit me three times and destroyed your house!”
Ethan didn't laugh. He simply flipped to the final page of the letter.
At the bottom, beneath her signature, was a small postscript written in smaller, tighter handwriting:
“P.S. If you choose to ignore this letter, remember that Grandfather’s original business ledger from 1998 is still in my bank safety deposit box. It contains documents regarding your early engineering firm investments that could complicate your corporate tax standing. Let’s resolve this privately.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Is she... is she trying to blackmail you from prison?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed into slits. The slight lingering softness he had felt reading about her health vanished instantly.
“She thinks she still has leverage,” Ethan said softly.
He picked up his phone and dialed Marcus Vance immediately.
“Marcus,” Ethan said when the attorney answered. “I just received a letter from my mother. She’s attempting to extortionately bribe and threaten me regarding a parole letter.”
“Send me a scan of the letter immediately,” Marcus replied without hesitation. “Attempting to bribe or extort a victim while incarcerated is a direct violation of penal code regulations. It won't just deny her parole, Ethan—it will add additional time to her sentence.”
Ethan looked at the handwritten letter sitting on the granite counter.
May you like
“Scan it,” Ethan told me calmly. “Send it over.”
Patricia had attempted one last desperate gamble from inside her cell, completely unaware that the son she used to control had outgrown her games forever.
