“Of course. My apologies.” Martinez led him into a five by eight foot interview room with two chairs and a table in between them. The walls were stark and cold. He shut the door behind them and the two men took a seat across from each other.
With his pad and pen in his hands, Martinez began going over his notes. “So, when we spoke this morning, Mr. DeFranco, you advised that you had not seen your wife since your court appearance yesterday morning, is that correct?”
Giving a head nod, Brandon kept a straight face. “That is correct.”
“About what time did the two of you leave court?”
Rolling his eyes in thought, he answered, “Maybe around 11:30.”
“When you left the courthouse, where did you go?”
“I went straight to work.”
“Did your wife tell you where she was going?”
“She said she was going home.”
“So, you didn’t talk to her again for some time that day?”
“Nope.”
“You said she sent you a text later in the evening?”
Leaning back in his chair, he sighed. “She text me around 8:30 saying she was going to her sister’s house for a few days.”
“And you were still at the Tribune at this time?”
“Yes, I had some hours to make up after being in court for a bogus charge.”
He looked back at his notes for a moment. “And you say Samantha Brown was there with you, correct?”
“That is correct. Sam and I were working on a project together.”
“Was any one else working late that night?”
“Not that I recall.”
“And what time did you leave?’
“Actually, right around 8:30. We were packing up when Pam text me.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“Sam and I went back to her place to grab some food and continue working.”
“What did the two of you have to eat?”
Brandon rolled his head back to stretch out his neck and flung his hands on the table out of frustration. “Oh, come on, Detective! I did not kill my wife! I loved her. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Well you do have two pending charges against you for doing just that, Mr. DeFranco.”
The anger was building and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure. “Those are bullshit charges and you know it. My wife and I had a fight. Couples do fight. It got a little out of hand but I did not put my hands on my wife. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t do anything to hurt Pam.”
“So tell me, Mr. DeFranco, who would want to hurt your wife?”
Elizabeth placed the last dish in the dishwasher, closed it tight, and hit the on button. She turned around and leaned her back against the sink, gathered her blonde hair over one shoulder, and adjusted the bikini string around her neck. “I just don’t get it. I read Marilyn’s recommendation. What could he have possibly done in the past six years that justifies an early release? I mean, I get to deal with posttraumatic stress for the majority of my adult life, because of him, and he gets to skip out on 2 years? For what? Taking a few anger management classes over the years and proving he can be an ‘upstanding citizen’ in prison, of all places?”
China finished wiping down the island counter top and putting away the extra food, periodically looking at Elizabeth and nodding her head to show she was paying attention and understood her pain.
She waved her hands like a little Italian grandmother as she spoke. “We all know the prison system is a joke. There is no rehabilitation for these people. They send them away with these unrealistic expectations that they can mold them into contributing members of society by caging them like animals, forcing them to comply and conform, only to let them loose with felony records, completely unemployable, not to mention pissed off at the world, and their only recourse is to turn to the life that sent them there to begin with! Only this time, they get better at doing it.” Taking a breath, she paused to fill her wine glass and take a sip.
Raising her glass to toast the absurdity, China said, “Welcome to the American criminal justice system.” She grabbed the bottle and headed out to the patio.
Following behind, Elizabeth continued, “I just don’t understand the bullshit psychology behind it all. It’s no different than what we deal with everyday. Countless offenders and victims walking through the revolving door we call Silverton Municipal Court. The system doesn’t have any answers or solutions. It does nothing but continue to place cheap Band-Aids on an infected, seeping wound.”
China placed the bottle of wine on the shelf hanging on the side of the hot tub and slowly climbed into the jet-propelled water. She made herself comfortable and pulled her hair back, twisting it and clipping it up in a barrette. “I completely agree with you, Liz, but that cheap band aid is our job security, unfortunately.”
Sighing at the harsh reality, she pursed her lips. “Tell that to Pam DeFranco’s family.”
Taking a sip of her wine and placing her glass on the shelf beside them, China spoke frankly. “Look, I know you’re having a hard time with all of this, I mean, anyone would have a hard time with all the news you received today, but there’s nothing you can do now about Pam. You just gotta ride this one out, Liz. Tell me I’m cold or harsh or what-have-you; this is one of the many hazards of our job. The one thing you can do something about is prepare yourself for Steve Robinson’s release.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Prepare myself? Really, China?” She flung her arms over the side of the tub and shook her head from side to side before resting it on the plastic blow-up pillow, gazing at the stars above them. “You’re right. I need to prepare.” Maybe it was the warm, red wine clouding her perception. Maybe it was the water temperature of 100 plus
