Chapter 13 - THE PRICE
The newspapers called it the Romano Collapse.
Forty-three arrests.
Nine companies seized.
Six police officers charged.
Two judges indicted.
Victor Hale faced federal racketeering, trafficking, conspiracy, attempted murder, and money laundering charges.
Salvatore Romano was charged while still recovering in the hospital.
Marco cooperated.
So did Luca.
And Dante?
Dante pleaded guilty.
Not to murder.
Not to trafficking.
But to racketeering.
Extortion.
Illegal gambling.
Financial crimes.
Conspiracy.
His attorney wanted a fight.
Dante refused.
“You can beat some of this,” the lawyer said.
“I did it.”
“That isn’t how court works.”
“It is today.”
The hardest day was sentencing.
Leo sat behind him.
Dante could feel his son’s eyes on his back.
The judge spoke for nearly twenty minutes.
“Mr. Romano, cooperation does not erase your conduct.”
“I know.”
“You led a criminal organization.”
“Yes.”
“You benefited from fear.”
“Yes.”
“You caused harm.”
Dante looked toward Leo.
“Yes.”
The judge sentenced him to seven years.
With credit for cooperation and time served, possibly less.
The courtroom murmured.
Dante turned.
Leo stood beside Marco.
Four months had passed since the barbecue.
The bruises were gone.
But he looked older.
Dante hated that.
A deputy moved forward.
“Mr. Romano.”
Dante held up one finger.
The deputy allowed it.
Dante crossed toward Leo.
He couldn’t touch him because of the cuffs.
Leo looked at them.
“You’re going now?”
“Yeah.”
“For seven years?”
“Maybe not all seven.”
“I’ll be fifteen.”
Dante’s throat tightened.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll miss middle school.”
“Probably.”
“My first dance.”
Dante smiled.
“You were planning on dancing?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Leo almost laughed.
Then his face crumpled.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Dante leaned closer.
“I know.”
“Grandpa says you’re stupid.”
Dante glanced toward Salvatore, who sat in a wheelchair near another defense table.
The old man looked away.
“Grandpa and I disagree about a lot.”
“He says family doesn’t betray family.”
Dante nodded slowly.
“Your grandfather waited eleven minutes while your mother was dying.”
Leo’s eyes filled.
“Sometimes telling the truth about your family isn’t betrayal.”
“What is it?”
“Stopping the damage.”
Leo wiped his face.
“Are you scared?”
Dante could have lied.
“No.”
He stopped.
Then corrected himself.
“Yes.”
Leo looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Of prison?”
“Some.”
“What else?”
Dante looked at his son.
“That you’ll grow up without me.”
Leo shook his head.
“You’re still my dad.”
“I know.”
“You can call.”
“I will.”
“You can write.”
“Every week.”
“Every day.”
Dante smiled.
“That’s a lot of writing.”
“Every day.”
“Okay.”
Leo took a breath.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Mom would be mad at you.”
Dante laughed softly.
“I know.”
“But I think she’d be happy you stopped.”
The deputy touched Dante’s arm.
Time.
Dante leaned forward until his forehead rested against Leo’s.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Listen to Marco.”
“Sometimes.”
“Leo.”
“Fine.”
“And don’t let him teach you poker.”
Marco protested.
“Hey.”
Dante smiled.
Then the deputy led him away.
At the courtroom door, Dante looked back once.
Salvatore was watching him.
Their eyes met.
The old man shook his head.
“You threw everything away,” Salvatore said.
Dante looked at Leo.
“No.”
He smiled.
May you like
“I finally figured out what everything was.”
Then the door closed.
