Chapter 12 - The Letter from OxfordTwo weeks later, a heavy rainstorm lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Frances’s home in the hills. The fire in the stone hearth crackled softly, throwing warm amber light across the leather armchair where Frances sat reviewing blueprinted structural load calculations.
Her phone chimed on the side table. It was a text from Sandra Okafor:
“Frances, a formal communication was received at my office today from the State Board of Pardons and Parole. Derek Vance has submitted an application for early sentence commutation citing good behavior.”
Frances set her reading glasses down, her jaw tightening slightly. She picked up the phone and dialed Sandra’s direct line.
"Sandra," Frances said as soon as the attorney picked up. "What are the merits of his petition?"
"Minimal," Sandra answered smoothly. "He has served fourteen months of a seven-year sentence. His defense team is claiming he was a first-time non-violent offender who experienced severe financial duress. They are requesting a hearing before the parole panel next month."
Frances looked out the window at the dark pine trees swaying in the rain. "Does Joselyn know?"
"Not yet," Sandra said. "The board is legally required to notify the primary victims—you and Joselyn—giving you thirty days to submit victim impact statements or request a formal appearance at the hearing."
Frances stood up, walking toward the window. "Draft my impact statement tonight, Sandra. Highlight the systematic nature of the wire fraud, the forged signatures, and the deliberate financial exploitation. But leave Joselyn’s decision to her. I won't pressure her."
That evening, Frances drove down to Joselyn’s apartment in the city.
The small one-bedroom unit was immaculate, decorated with warm earth tones, framed architectural prints, and shelves filled with books. Joselyn set a pot of chamomile tea on the coffee table as Frances explained the parole notice.
Joselyn listened quietly, her hands wrapped around her tea mug.
"He thinks fourteen months pays for trying to destroy us," Joselyn said softly, her voice devoid of anger, filled only with a quiet, undeniable clarity.
"He has the legal right to apply, Joselyn," Frances said. "You have the right to speak or remain silent."
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Joselyn looked at the framed photograph of her father, Robert, sitting on her bookshelf.
"I'm not going to hide, Mom," Joselyn said, raising her chin. "I'm going to stand in front of that parole board and tell them exactly who Derek Vance is."
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