Chapter 7 - Javier’s Desperation
Deep within the subterranean holding cells of the central county jail, Javier Robles sat on the edge of a bolted-down steel bunk, staring at the grey concrete walls with hollow, bloodshot eyes.
The custom silk wedding shirt was gone, replaced by a coarse, ill-fitting orange jumpsuit that smelled of institutional bleach and despair. The arrogance that had defined his entire life had been thoroughly beaten out of him by the cold, unforgiving reality of a federal cellblock.
The heavy iron door clanked open.
A corrections officer tapped a nightstick against the bars. "Vance—visitor. Move."
Javier blinked, stumbling off the bunk. He thought perhaps his lawyers had finally arrived with a miracle bailout package. He was escorted down the sterile, echoing corridor into a small glass-partitioned visitation booth.
He sat down in the plastic chair and picked up the heavy black telephone receiver.
On the other side of the glass sat his mother, Carmen.
She looked ten years older. Her hair was unstyled, her face pale and devoid of makeup, wearing an orange jumpsuit identical to his. The elite queen of high society had been reduced to a frightened inmate awaiting arraignment on multiple felony counts.
"Mom..." Javier choked out into the receiver, his voice trembling. "Mom, please tell me you talked to the attorneys. Tell me we're getting out of here."
Carmen pressed her hand against the glass partition, her eyes blazing with a mixture of terror and white-hot hatred.
"There are no attorneys left, Javier!" Carmen hissed through the intercom speaker, her voice shrill and desperate. "Every single lawyer we called refused to take our retainer! They said Alexander Brooks contacted every major legal firm in the tri-state area and put them on permanent conflict-of-interest retainers! We are completely cut off!"
Javier felt the floor drop out from under him. "Cut off? But what about the offshore accounts? What about Uncle Richard's trust?"
"Frozen! Every single cent!" Carmen wept openly now, mascara running down her cheeks. "The federal marshals seized everything by dawn yesterday. We don't even have enough commissary credit to buy a bar of soap!"
"This is all your fault!" Javier snapped, the pressure finally snapping his fragile sanity. He slammed his fist against the glass partition. "If you hadn't insisted on beating the girl for the condo! If you had just waited, played the long game like I planned!"
"My fault?!" Carmen screamed back, her face twisting in fury. "You pathetic coward! You stood outside the door while I did the dirty work! You raised no objections when you thought we were going to win! You are just as worthless as your father!"
"Hey! Shut it down in booth four!" a guard shouted, banging on the glass from the outside.
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Javier breathed heavily, his chest heaving as tears of sheer rage and self-pity spilled over his eyelids. He looked at the woman on the other side of the glass—the mother who had enabled, pushed, and orchestrated his entire miserable existence—and realized that they had destroyed themselves.
He slammed the phone down onto its cradle, stood up without another word, and walked back toward the dark cell, leaving Carmen screaming frantically into her receiver.
