Chapter 10
Marcus Davis sat in the sterile interview room of the local police precinct, staring at the scarred laminate surface of the metal table. Across from him sat Detective Miller and a recording officer, their expressions devoid of sympathy. Marcus was dressed in his rehearsal dinner suit, the grey fabric now rumpled and smelling faintly of stale beer and nervous sweat.
“Let’s go through it one more time, Mr. Davis,” Miller said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “You were tasked with erecting the decorative wooden signage above the main entrance arbor at the estate. Correct?”
Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Yes. That’s right.”
“And the manufacturer provided heavy steel bolts and load-rated cable clamps for the installation.”
“I… I didn’t use them,” Marcus mumbled, staring at his clasped hands. “We were running late. The florist was screaming that we were throwing off the schedule, and the ladder was heavy. I left the proper hardware in the back of my pickup truck, parked down by the main gate.”
“So instead of walking back to get the correct equipment, you used nylon zip ties and drywall screws,” Miller stated flatly.
“I tested it!” Marcus suddenly raised his voice, a note of panic creeping into his tone. “I pulled on it with my own weight! It felt solid. I didn’t think a little breeze or a kid running past would snap it. It was supposed to hold for a few hours, just for the ceremony photos.”
“A child nearly died, Mr. Davis,” Miller said coldly. “A seven-year-old girl has a fractured skull and is currently unresponsive in the pediatric ICU because you couldn't be bothered to walk two hundred yards to your truck.”
Marcus slumped back in his chair, his face twisting with a mixture of guilt and self-pity. “Julian is going to kill me. He worked so hard for this wedding. Clara’s family is going to destroy us.”
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“Your brother’s relationship is already over, and your legal troubles are just beginning,” Miller said, sliding a typed confession form across the table. “Sign here, Mr. Davis. It won’t fix what you broke, but it’s the first step toward accountability.”
Marcus picked up the pen with a trembling hand, the plastic barrel clicking softly as he signed his name to the document that would seal his legal fate and permanently shatter his family’s illusion of perfection.
