Page 67 of Claimed By the Deputies

“How did you get dragged into his mess, your words, to begin with?” Tyler asks, his brow slightly raised.

“Oh, that’s a long story?—”

“We’ve got time,” Mitch says, cutting me off.

I nod. “Okay. Well, I was raised in the foster system. I lost my parents to a drug overdose when I was just five years old,” I begin, carefully analyzing their expressions. They’re learning new things about me now, things I’ve kept mostly to myself over the years. Things I summarized under the “rough childhood” category because they were simply too painful to carry around. “I got bounced from one foster home to another, each worse than the one before until my early teens, when Timothy Jackson took over my case file. He was the first person to actually give a damn about me.”

“What happened then?” Lucas asks.

I lower my gaze, fondly remembering Martha and Willard James. “I was thirteen when Timothy brought me to live with the James’s, a nice couple who lived in Brooklyn. They’d fostered before. All of their kids were success stories, so Timothy hoped I’d get a better chance with them. And I did. They were good people. They filled in some gaps. But I guess I had some trauma left from my earliest days, an inability to recognize toxic behavior right away.”

“You aged out of foster care. What did you do next?”

“I kissed and hugged the James’s goodbye, and Timothy helped me get set up in a small studio apartment rental in the Bronx. He got me a grant through another social program to help get me on my feet over the next six months, during which time I got my first job working at a bar. Then I got a second job. And a third. I was holding down three jobs and making a living while constantly reading and studying for my own benefit. I’m self-taught in almost everything I’ve mastered so far.”

Lucas nods slowly. “Did you have any trouble with the law?”

“No. I kept my nose clean and my head down. I wanted to go to college at some point, but I couldn’t quit my jobs because of rent and the high cost of living. I had hopes and dreams.”

“When did you meet Trevor Callaghan?”

“I was twenty-one years old and going through a rough patch, emotionally, when Trevor Callaghan walked into my bar. Bright smile, very charming. He hooked me right away.” I sigh again, hating having to remember. “Next thing I know, he’s moving in with me, though spending a lot of time out and about being an entrepreneur, as he claimed. I knew little to nothing about him, but he knew everything about me. He gave me the hotand cold treatment; leaving me emotionally dependent on him. I worked through these things during prison therapy. They had a psychologist available, so I addressed all of these issues then, but let’s just say I was blinded by the guy. I thought he loved me, and I made him my whole world. But I was still working three jobs and paying the rent, the bills, putting the food on our table, while Trevor had to ‘invest his earnings.’”

“Invest? In his entrepreneurial endeavors, right?” Tyler raises an eyebrow.

“I know. I was dumb as a sack of rocks.”

“You were young. He gave you the illusion of stability,” Tyler replies. “Please, continue.”

“I had no idea he was dealing hard drugs or that he was working with some of the city’s most dangerous gangsters until one day, I realized he’d cut me off from everyone I knew, including Timothy. We argued about it, and it started getting physical. I was afraid of him, but I didn’t think anyone else would want me. He made me believe I was damaged goods.”

“Explain how you got arrested and charged,” Lucas instructs.

I stare at the camera’s blinking red light for a moment. “I was at home cooking a late dinner. Trevor was playing video games in the living room when the cops burst through the door. Next thing I know, I’m in cuffs, having my rights read to me while Trevor is pinned against the floor. Everything happened so fast. It wasn’t until my state-appointed defense attorney showed up in jail and told me how deep the issue was that I knew what was going on. Trevor used my credit card and my bank account for some of his transactions. My car for some of his errands. I had no way of proving my innocence.”

“But you continue to assert your innocence today.”

“Off the record, out of court, yes. In court, I had to plead guilty in order to get the shortest possible sentence since I couldn’t prove I wasn’t involved,” I sigh and shudder with heartache as I remember the day I had to stand in front of the judge. “I was told that if I were to pursue a not guilty plea, I’d get the maximum sentence and spend up to ten years in prison. A whole decade. And that’s when the veil came off, I suppose. The haze was lifted, and I realized what Trevor had done to me. He tried to pin his crimes on me for a lesser sentence for himself.”

“So you plead guilty.”

“Yes. And I got one year, plus probation. It was the best out of the worst options for me. But I will never stop saying it—I never dealt any drugs. I had no idea what he was doing. I was just his wife, his mark, his fool. I filed for divorce the first minute I could.”

Lucas nods, then turns the camera off. A heavy silence follows as the interview concludes. I feel better, sort of. At least I got it off my chest. It’s oddly liberating and didn’t sound as bad as I thought it would, saying these things out loud for the first time outside of the prison therapist’s office.

Yet I feel so small and helpless at the same time.

It’s as if my fate depends on whether they believe me or not. I need them to believe me. I told the truth. If they don’t, then the journey that follows will be mine and mine alone. It hurts to think about it.

“Tassia, we already knew,” Lucas exhales sharply.

“You what?” I manage, my mind suddenly blank.

“We knew,” Tyler says. “As soon as you came to live with us, as soon as Timothy got back in town, we spoke to him. In detail. We had to know, and we could tell you weren’t ready to open up just yet.”

“But he… Tim said it wasn’t the best idea to tell you yet. I am so confused right now.”

“We know. And we do apologize for that. We wanted you to make your own decision about what you choose to disclose, what advice you follow,” Mitch replies. “We wanted you to have complete freedom while not getting blindsided by what happened today.”

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