Novels by Smart.T

Aloe's POVTwenty years after Morrison's revenge was exposed, we gathered at the foundation's twentieth anniversary celebration. The event took place at the same Portland convention center where we'd celebrated the tenth anniversary, but everything else had changed.The foundation now operated in all fifty states, had staff exceeding five hundred, and had helped exonerate 312 people each representing years of life saved from wrongful imprisonment. The numbers were staggering, the impact immeasurable.James flew in from Seattle where he worked as structural engineer, his career completely divorced from criminal justice but successful and fulfilling. At twenty-seven, he'd recently gotten engaged to fellow engineer, building life unconnected to our family's dramatic history.Hope, now twenty-two, was investigative journalist for major news network, her documentary work having launched career that was already garnering awards and recognition. She'd maintained focus on criminal justice rep

Blake's POVThe documentary filmmaker contacted me through Sofia, who'd become expert at filtering legitimate opportunities from time-wasters. This one, she assured me, was legitimate established director with multiple awards, serious production company backing, genuine interest in telling comprehensive story about Morrison's revenge and its aftermath."Her name is Carmen Rodriguez," Sofia explained during phone call. "She's done documentaries about wrongful convictions before, won several film festival awards. She wants to make feature-length film about your case, the foundation's work, and the broader implications for criminal justice reform.""How intrusive?""Very. She wants access to family, foundation operations, interviews with everyone involved. It's comprehensive project, probably two years from start to release."I discussed it with Aloe that evening. "Documentary about Morrison's revenge means reliving everything publicly the arrest, the trial, the vindication, all of it ca

Aloe's POVJames graduated high school with no particular interest in criminal justice reform, which felt like small victory. At eighteen, he'd decided to pursue engineering at Oregon State, choosing field completely unrelated to the cause that defined our family."I'm proud of you for finding your own path," Blake told him during graduation dinner. "You don't have to follow in my footsteps or dedicate yourself to the work that consumed my life.""I know. But honestly, Dad, watching you fight all those years—it was exhausting just being near it. I want career that doesn't involve constant battles and systemic injustice. I want to build bridges, literally, not metaphorically fix broken systems.""That's completely valid. Someone needs to build actual infrastructure."Daniel, now fifteen, had different perspective. He'd grown up hearing stories about Morrison's revenge as family history, had watched Blake and Wakes work on foundation projects his entire conscious life, had Hope as older

Wakes's POVI sat in my office overlooking Manhattan fifteen years after my release from prison, reviewing financial statements for the Second Chances Initiative. The foundation had grown beyond anything Blake or I had imagined when we started it—offices in twenty-three states, staff of over two hundred, annual budget exceeding $50 million."We've helped exonerate 187 people," Evelyn reported during our monthly update call. She'd become foundation's chief operating officer three years ago, transforming from recent college graduate to essential leader. "Plus provided crucial support in over 400 other cases. Dad, the impact is exponential every person we help becomes advocate for others.""You've done this, Evelyn. Your organizational skills, your dedication the foundation wouldn't be this successful without you.""It's team effort. But thank you."After hanging up, I stared out at the city where I'd built business empire through ethically questionable means decades ago. That version of

Blake's POVHope's documentary project consumed our household for months. At thirteen, she'd developed obsessive dedication to storytelling that reminded me uncomfortably of myself at that age—before prison, before Morrison, before any of the complications that defined my adult life."Dad, I need to interview you about Morrison's revenge," she announced one Saturday morning, camera equipment already set up in our living room. "And I need you to be honest, not give me the sanitized version you tell journalists.""What makes you think there's sanitized version?""Because I've read all three of your books and watched your interviews. You talk about Morrison's revenge like it's distant historical event. But it happened to you—to us. I want the real emotional truth, not the public narrative."I sat across from her camera, suddenly nervous about being interrogated by my own daughter."Okay, Hope. What do you want to know?""How did it feel when the FBI arrested you? Like, actually feel, not

Aloe's POVThe Second Chances Initiative celebrated its tenth anniversary in November with gala event at Portland's convention center. Ten years since Wakes and Blake had founded it, since they'd transformed from enemies to allies working toward shared purpose of preventing wrongful convictions and supporting reform."A hundred and forty-three exonerations," Sofia announced during her presentation, Maya now four years old and sitting quietly in the audience beside Heron. "Combined total of 1,847 years of wrongful imprisonment prevented. Reforms implemented in nineteen states based on our advocacy work. This is what ten years of dedicated effort accomplishes."The audience—foundation staff, donors, exonerees, legislators, advocates applauded sustained recognition of achievements that had seemed impossible when the organization first launched.Blake was scheduled to speak, but he'd asked me to introduce him. "You've been part of this from the beginning," he'd said during planning. "You