Next, they went after Mr. Ridges. He paid with his life when he refused to open the doors for the police. Mama had called to warn him that Daddy’d been taken in. Mr. Ridges didn’t want to go out like that. Not in front of his kids. But it was too late. The police shot up the house, hitting Quincy, who was my age, and killing Mr. Ridges with shots through the window. They didn’t wait for a negotiator like they do on TV. They straight-up started shooting.

After he was dead, it was easy to put blame on Mr. Ridges. They needed him to be guilty. Especially when they could’ve killed Quincy. I’ve always believed the police and prosecution were willing to do anything they could to justify killing Mr. Ridges and shooting a ten-year-old. Regardless of whether Mr. Ridges or Daddy owned a gun, they both had alibis. Their fingerprints were found in the office meeting room, along with the prints of multiple other people who’d met with the Davidsons, but it didn’t seem to matter that their prints weren’t found in the back, where the bodies were discovered.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought this through a million times. Sometimes these things happen. Everything kept boiling down to the fact I was about to do business with Mr. Davidson.”

We both look down.

They’d questioned other suspects. Rumors flew around town that Daddy was upset with Mark Davidson. It’s true Daddy and Mark Davidson had gotten into an argument the day before, but it was because Mark didn’t want to join their business venture with Jackson Ridges, just with Daddy.

That’s not worth killing someone over.

Daddy changes subjects, tells me a story about when I was a baby and he’d knew I’d be trouble, but I’ve heard this story a million times. The only thing in my head is what I can do in the next nine months to bring Daddy home. A chance to stall his sentence. Save him before it’s too late.

When I get back in Tasha’s car, I can’t hold in all the disappointment from The Susan Touric Show and the helplessness from seeing Daddy. Each moment replays in my mind. I hold my mouth closed to stop a cry from escaping.

“Let it out, girl.” Tasha rubs my back. “Don’t hold that shit in.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” I say between cries. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything. You still got something left. I don’t know you to give up. What you did today could’ve worked. You don’t know yet.” Tasha hands me my notepad to finish my letter to Innocence X.

Blurry-eyed, I take the notepad from her, the pain still sitting in me. Tasha drives away as I finish my letter.