Well fuck.
God Bless Mister Shirley and God Bless dad's interest in his reputation.
I am writing this in my bed and not in a prison cell. I totally did it. Two people testafide against the judge in my defense. A Angel and A Demon.
Mister Shirley pointed out that I couldn't, for any reason, have done it, except maybe it was me just being a depraved individual looking for the experience. The sad part is, he's completely right. There wasn't any logic in what I did. I did it because it was fuck fun. After his testimony I felt bad. He knew I did it and why I did it. Sometimes when he was talking and knew no one was looking at him, he gave me a very stern look. That was worse than any prison cell. But he winked at me as he left the courthouse. He made me feel bad about what I did but made me feel good that I could redeem myself. I could be above any of the other people who did what I did.
Then dad came to my defense. He didn't say anything about me he just handed over mountains and mountains of cash. He didn't look at me when he left.
In the end money beat morals.
Why do I even bother?
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