Part 2

Jake

Five years later

The courthouse still looked exactly the same. The only difference was, now Jake was hardened, scarred, and with the cold stillness of a man who learned to survive prison. The courthouse wasn’t as full. There was no jury, only lawyers - a new one for him - a few reporters, and the same tired judge who had sentenced him.

Jake sat at the defense table, once again shackled, but he was no longer the innocent 20-year-old he’d been when he’d sat there the first time. His stare was flat, unblinking, and dangerous. He was dressed in prison-issued khakis, his wrists bruised from the chains. This time, he did have blood on his hands.

The judge cleared his throat, the papers in his hand rustling. He indicated for the proceedings to start. There was no hope in Jake’s soul, not because he didn’t believe, but because it had been snuffed and beaten out of him. There was only vengeance, hatred, and a distrust for any figure of authority. Jake had learned enough in prison.

John Kingston, his civil rights lawyer, got to his feet, confidence oozing from his expensive suit. “Your Honor, since Mr. Savage’s conviction, DNA testing has proven conclusively that the blood found at the scene did not belong to him. Multiple witnesses have recanted testimony, some under sworn affidavits. It is evident that Mr. Savage was wrongfully convicted of murder. We respectfully request his immediate release.”

The state prosecutor, David Johnson, didn’t even look at Jake. “The State concedes, Your Honor. Given the overwhelming new evidence, we have no legal grounds to oppose vacating the conviction.”

The judge peered down at Jake, his voice more formal than emotional. “Mr. Savage, this court acknowledges the grave miscarriage of justice that occurred in your case. After five years of wrongful imprisonment, your conviction is hereby vacated. You are ordered released, effective immediately.” The gavel smacked the wood hard. The chains around his wrists were unlocked. He rubbed the raw skin where the shackles bit in. He didn’t smile. He showed no emotion as the judge that had once taken his life now gave him back his freedom.

One month later

In the Tallahassee State Claims Court, Jake sat in a small, sterile courtroom. This time he wore jeans, boots and a button-up shirt. He refused to wear a suit, refused to show any sort of respect. John Kingston sat next to him, a hand clasped on his shoulder. This wasn’t about justice, it was bureaucracy with a price tag.

The state’s attorney stood at the podium, reading from a prepared statement. “The State of Florida acknowledges that Mr. Jacob Warner Savage was wrongfully convicted of first-degree murder and served five years in prison for a crime he did not commit. The court has approved compensation in the amount of two million dollars for wrongful incarceration and additional restitution that was determined.”

The judge looked over the top of his glasses at Jake. “Mr. Savage, this compensation is not meant to erase what happened, but to provide restitution under state law. Do you accept this settlement?”

Jake leaned forward, his voice low but carrying across the room. “What I lost doesn’t have a price.” His lawyer nudged his arm, and Jake leaned forward again. “But yeah, I’ll take it.”

An official envelope was slid across the table. Not cash, not even a moment of dignity. Just paper. Jake took it, and stared at it for a long beat. Inside his head, a storm raged. Five years for two million. Four hundred thousand a year. About a hundred bucks an hour. That’s what his life was worth to them.

Outside the courthouse, his parents stood to one side, his brother giving him a wary look. He didn’t even spare a glance at them. He walked past everyone, ignoring the way his brother yelled his name. He hadn’t been good enough five years earlier, and now they weren’t good enough for him.

Jake had money now. He had freedom. But no amount of money could buy back who he was before prison. That man was dead. Jake Savage walked into that prison, but Wrath had walked out. The name he’d earned through blood, violence, and murder. Prison had turned him into a hardened criminal, one that didn’t blink at the thought of taking a man’s life. He was a man forged in flames, forged in blood and violence. Wrath had been born out of necessity, a will to survive, and with a debt that needed to be paid.

He slid into the driver’s seat of his Ford Raptor, the black truck gleaming, and still smelling like new leather and the orange air freshener clipped to the vent. He’d already packed his meager belongings earlier that morning. Turning his back on the cheap motel room, where he’d been staying had been easy. He hadn’t been comfortable, and he wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to be. He’d tried sleeping on the bed, but every night, he shifted to the floor, sleeping on his back.

John stood next to his truck, the window now open. “Take care of yourself, Jake.”

“You too, John. Thank you for everything you did for me. I’ll never forget it.”

John smiled. “I just did my job, Jake. Today we won, but we don’t always win. I’m glad I could get you out and compensated. I wish all my cases were this easy.”

“Yeah, I guess it’ll take some time before it feels like I won anything.”

John gave him a sad smile. “Where are you headed? Will you go home and see your family? You refused all their requests to make contact with you.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be going home anytime soon. I have a debt to repay.”

Jake pulled away from the courthouse, driving toward the freeway and real freedom. He made a silent vow; he would pay his debt, he would live his life as free as he could, and he would destroy every last enemy Rancid had. He had a long drive ahead of him and he wanted to reach Pennsylvania as soon as he could. He had a new lease on life, one that was beckoning him forward, and he wanted at least a thousand miles between him and this prison. He switched the radio on, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he drove through the night, stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks. The thought that he was putting the same amount of distance between him and his family, made him smile for the first time in months, maybe even years.