Captain Fin

by Amanda M. Thrasher

“Daddy!” Hannah squealed as soon as she saw a guard bring Hank into the courtroom through a side door and sit him down at a table with his attorney. Putting her tiny hands over her own mouth for fear of being asked to leave, she almost broke into tears when Hank looked her way and winked at her, just like the Captain did, right before he sat down.

  Gloria slipped Hannah’s hand into hers for safe measure, and they waited patiently for the trial to begin. The bailiff announced that Judge Gordon would be presiding and asked everyone to be seated. This was the final round of the case, which had dragged on for months. Judge Gordon addressed the courtroom.

  “In our trial today, the defendant has decided to testify. No one can force a defendant to testify, but if the defendant chooses to testify, the prosecution is allowed to question the defendant.” Staring at Hank, the judge addressed Hank’s attorney. “Does the defendant understand this?”

  “He does, your Honor.”

  “Swear him in, Clerk Baker, please, and let’s begin.”

  “Please stand. Raise your right hand.”

  “Dad—”

  A gentle but firm hand cupped Hannah’s mouth before she could finish calling out to him. Whispering in her ear, Gloria slid her hand off Hannah’s mouth. “Remember, we can’t say a single word in here; we must be very, very quiet, for Daddy. Very quiet.” Hannah nodded, but Gloria held Hannah’s hand in hers for the entire trial, despite her daughter trying to wriggle her little fingers out of her grasp.

  “Do you promise that the testimony you shall give in the case now before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do,” Hank responded, hating every second that Hannah was in the courtroom.

  “You may be seated.”

  During his testimony describing the events that night, Gloria’s heart sank, blaming herself for forcing him to feel as if he had to flee their home for his own peace of mind. She glanced at Hannah, who had no idea of the severity of the case, the real reason they were there that day, or that they were nearing the penalty phase. Gloria noticed that Hannah continued to grow restless.

  “Can we go now?” Hannah tugged on her momma’s sleeve. “I’m thirsty.”

  “Sssh,” Gloria whispered, wishing once again she’d asked Sandy to reschedule her doctor’s appointment that morning. Silently praying for forgiveness for thinking such a thing, Gloria checked herself, again. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Feeling selfish, she whispered in Hannah’s ear and begged her to be patient a little longer. Hannah laid her head on her mom’s shoulder and for a minute took herself to an island with the Captain, and forgot for a second that she was sitting on a hard wooden bench.

  After the attorneys cross-examined Hank, closing arguments by the prosecution and defense were presented. The judge spoke to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am now going to read to you the law that you must follow in deciding this case.”

  Gloria slipped out of the courtroom with Hannah as the judge instructed the jury on what they were supposed to do. In the corridor outside the courtroom, they found Sandy. She reached out for Hannah’s hand as she leaned into Gloria, who wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek, before bending down to kiss her beautiful new baby, Nate.

  “I didn’t want Hannah to come here today; thank you for picking her up.” Seeing her friend trembling with fear, too choked up to say much more, Sandy pulled Gloria as close to her as she could, separated only by the baby carrier. “Sorry. I would have cancelled my appointment.”

  “No, please, don’t ever apologize for such things!”

  Sandy pulled Hannah toward the elevators. “Let’s go get a burger.”

  “And French fries?” Hannah’s eyes lit up.

  “Well you can’t eat a burger without fries!” Gloria heard Sandy say, and Hannah agreed. Such a normal conversation on any given day, yet here they were minutes away from finding out what hand fate was about to deal her husband.

  The sentencing phase for Gloria was absolutely brutal. Despite the persuasive argument that Hank’s attorney had laid out, it took less than an hour for the jury to convict Hank of involuntary manslaughter. It had not been premeditated, true, but several witnesses had testified and accused him of being the one who had pushed O’Halloron over the railing. They also claimed, despite Hank’s attorney’s objections, that Tom was the one who had hung onto Hank’s clothes as he fell over the siding that day, forcing Hank to fall with him into the icy river, and not the other way round. Stunned that the accounts were so different, Gloria held her breath as the judge addressed Hank and the courtroom.

  Though the judge sympathized with Hank, he emphasized that a man was dead, and someone had to pay. That someone was Hank Gunner. He received the maximum sentence for involuntary manslaughter, four years, but as his attorney pointed out, it could be reduced for good behavior. Struggling to grasp the reality of the situation, the number of years issued during the punishment phase hadn’t quite sunk in. Desperately hoping for probation or a lighter jail sentence, the four years—forty-eight months—seemed like an eternity. Hannah would be nine years old by the time he got out. Nine. What was she going to do? What was she thinking?! Get your shit together! Gloria told herself. We’ll appeal the length of the sentence, anything to help, or he will get out earlier, if nothing else for good behavior! We’re a family! We need to be together; but more importantly, families stick together! Wiping her tears away with her hand, trying not to let Hank see her cry, she took a deep breath and asked the attorney if she could speak to her husband. “We’ll get through this together!” she said to herself as she powdered her nose.

  “What, babe? What did you say?” Hank hollered across the rows of seats separating him from his wife, a bailiff by his side.

  “Bailiff, please, can we give him a minute to say goodbye to his wife?” His attorney waved Gloria over to them. Separated by a rail, she was inches away from Hank and barely holding herself together. Pouring her a glass of water, the bailiff handed it to her and asked her to sip it slowly.

  “You’ve both been hit with quite a shock today. Sip this slowly. You look as if you’re a about to pass out.”

  Hank, choking up, started his goodbyes. “I’m sorry, so terribly sorry about all of this! I love you, and I’m sorry! Please, please, please tell Hannah I love her, and I’ll be home soon.”

  Numb, tears now pouring down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, Gloria tried to speak but could barely get the words out. “I’m sorry too, Hank. I never should have made you feel as if you needed to leave that day; we’re a family, families stick together, and we’ll get through this!” They started to direct him to a door to escort him away. “I love you, Hank. I love you!” One nod of his head, assuring her that he had heard her, and they took him away. As they reached the door, panicking, Gloria yelled across the courtroom as loud as she could, startling people who were exiting. “Oh God, please, Hank, please, please, please control your temper in there! No fighting. No FIGHTING! Stay out of trouble.” A glance over his shoulder as they led him away, Hank made eye contact before the door closed and yelled, “For you and Hannah, I promise!”

  Drained, Gloria plopped down on the hard wooden bench in the now-empty room. Shaking, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. What in the hell was she supposed to do now, and how was she supposed to look her daughter in the face and tell her that her daddy went away?

  Sandy and the baby were sitting on the couch waiting for Gloria to get home. Relieved Hannah was nowhere in sight, Gloria reached for the baby, snuggling him as close to her face as she could, and smothered him with sweet kisses. Fighting through her tears, she managed to get out the words, “It’s bad, Sandy. Bad.”

  Sandy patted the couch and Gloria plopped down next to her. Kissing the top of the baby’s head again, Gloria whispered, “Nate, your daddy would be so proud of you!” as the tears finally broke loose and trickled down her cheeks.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful
I am that you picked up Hannah for me today!”

  “No, don’t. I know you would have done the same. What happened?”

  Images of Hank being taken away flashed through Gloria’s mind. “Four years. They gave him four years! I don’t know what I’m going to do. And I don’t know what I would have done if Hannah had seen them take him away like that; it was awful.” Tears continued to spill over her eyelids and though she wasn’t ready to give up loving on the baby, she had to hand him back to Sandy and brush her tears away just in case Hannah came into the room. Choosing her words carefully, Nathan’s loss still fresh on everyone’s mind, Gloria tried to contain her grief. “What will I tell Hannah? How will I tell her?”

  “You’ll just do that mom thing you’re so good at and figure it out.”

  “Good at, me? I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you’re a great mom, and at least Hank will come home.” Sandy bundled up the baby and made her way to the front door to say her goodbyes. “You’ve got this! It’s not going to be easy, but you and Hannah can still talk to him and visit if you like—that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry for sounding so selfish. We’ll get through this; it won’t be easy, but we’ll do it.” She couldn’t help but wonder if Sandy was still in shock. She was so pulled together despite her grief; maybe having Nate and being exhausted and busy was a good thing right now, instead of bad timing. He was keeping her sane. “Text and let me know you made it home!” Gloria yelled after her. Sandy waved, and Gloria closed and locked the door.

  Lightly knocking on Hannah’s door, Gloria waited for a response; there wasn’t one. Dreading it, she entered the room. Hannah’s usual things were scattered around the floor: the book her daddy read to her each night, her fake sword, teddy, a piece of paper with what looked like a hand-drawn map on it—Hank’s handiwork no doubt—and princess jewelry. Treasure, of course.

  “Hannah. Sweetheart. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Hannah didn’t respond, but did pop up from the other side of the bed. Her blond hair was a wild mess, and her blue eyes that usually sparkled were dull. She looked solemn, knowing that something wasn’t quite right, and Gloria hadn’t even tried to discuss that their lives were going to change yet. Testing the waters, her little girl started to ask the usual questions.

  “What time will Daddy be home?” Hannah bounced up on her bed. “It’s getting late, and he should have been here by now. He promised the Captain would board the ship.”

  “Can we talk for a minute, about your daddy and not the Captain?” Gloria asked. “You’re shivering; why don’t you put your warm pj’s on and get out of your pirate outfit?”

  It was as if Hannah hadn’t heard a word her mom said, but Gloria recognized immediately that Hannah was choosing to ignore every word that she was saying. Gloria sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled a reluctant Hannah into her lap. Struggling to get away, Hannah forced herself to stay in her make-believe world.

  “Captain runs a tight ship around here; but he says you’re a scallywag, so you might not know that.” Flushed cheeks and pouty lips, Hannah continued to lash out at her mom as she tried to get out of her arms, but Gloria’s grip tightened around her. “Sometimes he says you’re a tyrant.”

  Forcing a laugh, Gloria responded softly. “You don’t even know what a tyrant is.”

  “Do too!” Hannah objected.

  “Oh, yeah. How so?”

  “Captain told me!”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes he did, and you’re a tyrant.”

  Frustrated, but glad Hannah was talking, Gloria prompted her again for an explanation. “So what is it, a tyrant, if I am one and all?”

  The wheels started turning in Hannah’s head. Gloria was witnessing Hannah’s mind at work as Hannah’s eyes focused on her mom with such intensity so she wouldn’t cry. “You’re a mean tyrant. Bossy. Always ruling us, me and the Captain, that’s what you are… a tyrant!”

  Why hadn’t the Captain come home already, thought Hannah, and dismissed this scallywag-turned-tyrant, so they could eat supper, and she could take her bath, and then she could go to Treasure Island with her dad before bed? No, that wasn’t right. She had meant that she could go to Treasure Island with the Captain before bed! Where was the Captain, and why was her mom holding her so tightly? Why hadn’t the Captain come home? And where was her dad, anyway? It had something to do with that terrible place that they were at earlier that day, Hannah just knew it, but nothing was making sense and the questions in her head weren’t coming out the way she wanted to ask them, and her head hurt anyway! Hysterical, she let out a wail that Gloria had never heard from her daughter in her entire life. As a mom it pierced her heart with sadness, and scared her to death at the same time.

  “Where IS my daddy?” Hannah wailed. “What did they do to him?” Her little cheeks flushed bright red as hysterics and anxiety set in. Thrashing around, Gloria struggled to hold her down.

  “Can we discuss this, please, Hannah?” Gloria begged. “I want to explain what’s going on with Daddy.” Wrapping her arms around her, holding her tightly and trying to calm her down, Gloria continued trying to talk Hannah down. “Hannah, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. Daddy is going to be okay.” Tears turned into gasps for air, the thrashing continued, and Hannah melted down. Reasoning with her seemed impossible before the conversation had started; now, it wasn’t even worth trying to discuss the facts with her at all. “Hannah, we’ll talk about Daddy when you calm down.”

  Tantrum in full swing, Hannah lashed out. “What did you do with my daddy? Where is he, and why isn’t he coming home?”

  Shocked, Gloria could barely respond. “What have I done to him?” She hadn’t done anything; this mess was all Hank Gunner’s doing!

  Chapter 8

  Cruel to Be Kind

  “For my family I can do anything!”

  ~ Hank Gunner ~

  Adjusting to prison life hadn’t been easy; missing Hannah’s milestones, holidays, and sixth and seventh birthdays had been brutal. Talking to her on the phone wasn’t the same. Hannah, like most kids, was bored within minutes, and since the rules wouldn’t allow them to video chat or FaceTime, he felt as if slowly but surely he was losing the close connection that he once shared with his little girl.

  “She’s forgotten about me,” Hank complained during a prison visit with Gloria.

  “Honestly, she hasn’t. She talks about you all the time, plays the pirate game—your role and hers—and sleeps with the shell you gave her every night.”

  “But it’s not the same, is it, I mean really.” Hanging his head, he knew it was impossible for it to be the same while he was locked up in there, and he had no one to blame but himself. Hesitating, he chose his words very carefully. Reading his face, knowing he was struggling, Gloria encouraged him to speak freely.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, ah, you’re not going to like it.” Hank struggled for the right words.

  Gloria fidgeted in her seat. Being in that place made her uneasy. Even if she was pleased to see her husband, she was always ready to leave as soon as she walked through the door. The prison, with its dark concrete walls, cameras pointed at you from every direction, less-than-desirable inmates, armed guards everywhere you looked, rules and more rules, creeped her out! “Spit it out.” Forcing a smile for her husband, she added, “I’m listening.”

  Hank grinned. “It’s gonna piss you off!”

  “Then maybe you should keep it to yourself.”

  “Why won’t you bring Hannah to see me? Other parents bring their kids here all the time.” Boldness in his voice, he forced the issue. “She’s forgotten her own father, for God’s sake!”

  A lump formed in Gloria’s throat. This discussion was getting old. She thought they’d put it to bed once and for all the last time he’d brought it up.

  “We’ve talked about this a hundred times!”<
br />
  “Well, I wanna talk about it again!” Hank, on the opposite side of the table, facing Gloria, sat up straight in his chair. “She’s my daughter, and I have a right to see her!”

  “Again, Hank, we decided together it was best if Hannah didn’t come here, remember? Or did you conveniently forget?”

  “Damn it, Gloria, I’ve changed my mind!”

  Uncomfortable with his tone, people staring at her, Gloria gathered her things and prepared to leave. “Lower your voice, relax, and we’ll talk. If you don’t do that, and right now, I’m going home.”

  “Talk!” Irritated, Hank waved his hand toward her. “What is there to talk about? You know it isn’t right, you keeping her way from me. It’s not right!”

  “I don’t know that!” Folding her hands and taking a deep breath to calm herself, Gloria reminded him that they’d discussed this time and time again. “Do you have any idea how many times we’ve discussed the possibility of bringing her up here? Do you? Look around you. Look at you! Is this how you want your daughter to see you? Do you want her to come here, to this Godforsaken place, and visit you?” She leaned closer to whisper to him, but as soon as she did a guard quickly stepped toward her, reminding her there would be no private conversations.

  “Don’t lean over the line marked on the center of the table, please.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Gloria continued her plea. “You’re wearing inmate clothes, so you all look alike; how do I explain that? That’s what bad people wear, criminals—what do I say? People make mistakes, and only some people in here are bad, but some are nice. How does she process that? What do I tell her about some of the shady characters you can clearly see are in here? Hank, this is a state prison! Guards with guns walk around while people visit, kids included, yes, but you want your seven-year-old daughter subjected to this?” Fuming inside, Gloria didn’t let up. “And let’s not forget about the building.”

  “What about the building?” Hank snapped sarcastically. “It’s a prison. It’s not the Hilton.”