Chapter 4 - Begging on the Doorstep
Two weeks later, the reality of federal indictments hit Julian.
It was pouring rain on a Tuesday evening when the doorbell rang. I checked the security cameras to see Julian standing on my porch, soaked to the bone, looking like a feral, desperate animal. I didn't open the door. I spoke to him through the intercom.
"You're violating the temporary restraining order, Julian."
"Please!" he yelled, his voice cracking over the static of the speaker. "Please, just let me talk to you! The feds raided my parents' temporary apartment today. They seized my laptop. I'm going to prison. Please, you have to call off your lawyers! I’ll do anything!"
I watched his pathetic, shivering form on the high-definition monitor. This was the man who had slid divorce papers across my kitchen counter and told me my usefulness had expired. This was the man who let his mother pack away my grief in trash bags.
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"You told me I needed to have some dignity, Julian," I said, my voice echoing through the outdoor speaker into the rain. "I'm simply taking your advice. My lawyers do not take calls from criminals. Do not come here again, or I will have you arrested."
I cut the intercom off, walked away from the screen, and poured myself a glass of expensive red wine. He stayed on the porch for another twenty minutes, crying in the rain, before finally walking away into the darkness.
