“Because prison doesn’t change people. It warehouses them. You’re both young. Stupid, but young. You made a terrible choice. But I believe people can learn from their mistakes. If they’re willing to.”
“We are,” Blake said earnestly. “I swear, we are.”
“Then prove it. Complete the community service. Learn from the people at that rehab center. Understand what it’s like to actually struggle with mobility. And never, ever treat another human being like they’re beneath you.”
They both nodded.
“And one more thing,” I added. “If I ever hear that either of you has done anything like this again—to anyone—I will personally make sure the original federal charges are filed. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They left.
Six weeks later, I was off crutches. Back to my normal routine.
I got a letter at my office.
From the director of Riverside Rehab Center.