Chapter 10 - THE PLATE
The district attorney’s office called about the plate.
I did not get special treatment because my father was cruel.
Minor injury.
Video.
Dozens of witnesses.
I admitted the throw.
Robert wanted charges.
Helen encouraged him.
Laura said:
“You may qualify for diversion depending review.”
“What does that mean?”
“You complete conditions. No repeat conduct. Potential dismissal.”
“Should I fight?”
“On what basis?”
I was angry.
He provoked me.
My kids—
None changed what my arm did.
“No.”
“Good.”
I told the children before they heard from relatives.
“I may have to do a class and community service because I threw the plate.”
Jacob frowned.
“But Grandpa was mean.”
“Yes.”
Samuel asked:
“If you didn’t hit him on purpose, why?”
“I threw something near him because I wanted to scare him.”
Rebecca watched me.
“Like Grandma wanted to embarrass us?”
I stopped.
Children have ruthless symmetry.
“Yes.”
Her eyes softened.
“Okay.”
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
I entered diversion later.
Anger-management sessions.
Community service.
Restitution for medical bill and damaged glasses.
No heroic exception.
It became one of the best things I did during the entire mess because my parents could no longer use:
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He refuses responsibility.
I didn’t.
