The brother looked down.
“I didn’t know any of that.”
“Your mother did.”
Of course she did.
Apparently my mother had known every dangerous thing the men around her refused to confront.
“She didn’t want him driving,” my father said. “That was part of the argument.”
“Then why did you let him?”
My father’s eyes filled again.
“Because I was angry with her.”
I stared at him.
He forced the words out.
“She had told me she was taking you to your grandmother’s for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Because she was tired of the business. Tired of my brother. Tired of me defending him.”
The brother looked at the floor.
My father continued.
“I thought she was overreacting.”
I almost laughed.
The sound that came out was ugly.
“She was overreacting?”
“No.”
“You let a drunk man with a suspended license drive because you were mad at Mom?”
“Yes.”
I wanted him to defend himself.
I wanted him to offer some explanation that would let me hate the situation instead of him.
He didn’t.
Maybe that was the first honest thing he had done all evening.
“What happened when the police came?”
His brother answered.
“Your father said he had been driving.”
I stared at him.
“You switched seats?”
“No.”
My father shook his head quickly.
“The car had rolled. We were thrown around.”
“You were wearing seat belts.”
“Yes.”
“So investigators could tell.”
“They could have.”
“But they didn’t?”
The brother laughed bitterly.
“They did.”
My father glared at him.
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“A deputy questioned the injuries.”
I looked toward my father.
“And?”
“I said the steering wheel had collapsed during the rollover.”
“Did they believe you?”
“Not completely.”
“Then how did you get away with it?”
The brother answered.
“Money.”
My father stood.
“No.”
“Tell her.”
“It wasn’t a bribe.”
“I didn’t say bribe.”
“Then don’t make it sound like one.”
I looked at the brother.
“What money?”
He leaned back.
“The company’s insurance attorney got involved.”
My father nodded reluctantly.
“There were liability issues.”
“Because the company owned the car?”
“Yes.”
That was another surprise.
The sedan in the photograph had belonged to the business.
If an employee-owner with a suspended license had driven drunk and killed a passenger, the company could have faced financial destruction.
“So you lied to protect the company too.”
My father looked at me.
“At the time, I told myself I was protecting you.”