Anton placed the manila folder in front of his grandfather. “Yes, sir. I found his name and enough personal information to track him down.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” He opened the folder and scanned the contents. “He has a wife and family.” He spent a few more minutes reading the pages. Then abruptly, he shut the folder, slamming his hand against the table. “This son of a bitch will pay!” His chair hit the wall as he forcefully stood. “Do you hear me, boy?”

“Yes, sir, I hear you.” Anton watched as his grandfather paced in his prison garb.

“Not just him. Hell, no. He took away my world. He took my family away. His damn kids, their kids, their kids . . . they will all face the consequences of his actions! He took everything.” Nathaniel’s eyes darkened as he moved closer to his grandson. “You know what?”

“No, sir.”

“You can’t lose everything until you have everything to lose.” More pacing. “I had everything, and now look at me! That man and his goddamn family will pay!” He moved very close to his grandson. “The day I get out of this hellhole, they will. Every one of them will regret the day he decided to bring me down.

Anton noticed the difference in the sound of their footsteps. His hard soled shoes made a distinctively different noise from his grandfather’s rubber soled shoes. They squeaked. “There is more, sir.” Nathaniel turned toward his grandson’s words.

“What? What more did you learn?”

“He had help. He worked hand in hand with a securities officer named Burke. Mathews fed Burke the information. If this securities officer hadn’t directed Mathews, he wouldn’t have been as thorough in collecting evidence.” Anton watched the shade of his grandfather’s face grow in crimson intensity as he spoke.

“And your father?” The blackness of Nathaniel’s eyes pulled Anton’s gaze to him. He felt compelled to maintain eye contact and surrender the rest of his information.

“He testified for the state.” Nathaniel’s pacing continued. “It was done behind closed doors, but it isn’t secret. The media calls him the hero in our family.”

Nathaniel collapsed red faced and defeated into his chair. The realization that his son had turned state’s witness was obviously affecting him. His tone mellowed. “Boy, you will survive.”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

“Being here today, discovering this information, and most importantly having the balls to bring it to me are all evidence of your future. Your father has always been a disappointment, but I believe he was better at one thing than me.” Anton sat in the metal chair facing his grandfather. There was sincerity in his tone and words, he asked Nathaniel to go on. “Public opinion, I never gave a damn what anyone thought. I worked hard and deserved all the money and possessions. I wanted more. That was never a secret. Remember this, you can want the whole goddamn world but never show it.” Nathaniel stared up at the camera in the corner of the room. “If they know what you want, they’ll watch you and take it away. Keep up appearances, boy. If you do that, you can take everything you want, the whole damn world is yours.”

  Happiness doesn’t depend on any external conditions,

itisgovernedbyourmentalattitude. —Dale Carnegie

 Chapter 51

Claire had been incarcerated for over three months and had come to terms with the knowledge that it would not end soon. The claustrophobic cell and virtual isolation were her new norm. Surprisingly, she was adapting. It was difficult at first, but with time, she developed strength and resolve.

On April 18, 2012, the courtroom sat empty except for the judge, defendant, and legal teams. Each word resonated throughout the cavernous room. Claire Nichols stood in front of the federal court judge and with the help of her legal team pleaded no contest to the charge of attempted murder. As the judge explained the consequences of Claire’s plea, she listened, felt the smooth finish of the chair she used for support, watched the judge’s lips, and wept silently.

This plea saved her the indignity of a jury trial. She didn’t admit guilt, but would not, could not challenge the charges. Therefore, she would take a lesser sentence but couldn’t later decide to appeal. She would avoid Mr. Evergreen and his questions. She would escape the dark penetrating eyes of Anthony Rawlings as she testified. She wouldn’t need to explain to the entire world how she was forced to do things and how things were so different from how they appeared. She could just go away quietly.

The court of public opinion had not gone well either. The people of Iowa City, of Iowa, and of the United States all found her guilty. They tried her as a gold digger. Of course, most of the information hadn’t come out. Even that shared with the members of both legal teams remained private. Anthony Rawlings made sure of it.

The federal judge sentenced her to seven years in prison, minus time served, to be served in a moderate security federal penitentiary. The severity of her crime required a moderate security facility. Apparently, even her ex-husband testified to the judge, asking for a minimum-security facility, more evidence of his forgiving, kind character.

Counsel on behalf of Anthony Rawlings filed the necessary paperwork to dissolve the marriage between him and Claire Nichols. Of course, there was no contest. With a few connections, the court papers were expedited. The divorce was finalized on March 20, 2012. Since there wasn’t a prenuptial agreement, Claire received no financial compensation for her fifteen-month marriage. After all, she was charged with his attempted murder. Why would she get any financial compensation?

According to the smut television shows that played in the common area of the prison, Mr. Rawlings was having no problem finding women to take her place. The world rallied around him and his unfortunate situation. Even Rawlings Industries stock soared.

The small window in the door of Claire’s cell allowed a minimal amount of florescent light to penetrate, making the walls drab and colorless. Turning on her desk lamp filled the room with a feeling of warmth. Her cell at the Iowa Correctional Institution for Women was small and would be her home for at least another four years. She was sentenced to seven, but eligible for parole in four. Claire was good at following rules.

She had a twin-sized bed, dresser, an open hanging area, a few shelves, and a desk with a chair. It wasn’t much but she felt content. She’d experienced more and that hadn’t worked well for her. Existing in a comforting sameness day to day helped Claire survive. There were no surprises, everything was predictable. Day after day, the same routine: wake, dress, and breakfast, then back to her cell, alone, until lunch. Lunch and then a one-hour block of free time, either in a large gymnasium, the prison library, or an outside court. Claire loved the outside. She went there whenever the weather permitted. Then back to her cell until dinner. After dinner there was optional common time, if you earned that privilege, for another hour. Claire earned it, but opted for her cell. Companionship required trust in the other person. Claire’s trust didn’t extend beyond herself any longer. She stayed in her cell until her buzzer rang. The buzzer indicated that it was time to shower; following the shower, back to her cell, lights out at 11:00. Simple and predicable, Claire had suffered enough unpredictability.

She spent her free time reading. Emily tried to send her books as often as possible. Having a sister and husband in jail was hard on Emily. She was asked to leave her teaching job in Troy. The private school system needed to maintain its reputation, and apparently some donors were concerned about her influence on young children. She went back to Indiana to familiar surroundings and taught for a public school system near Indianapolis. The money wasn’t good, but at least she could survive.