Monday morning arrived before I was ready for it.
Julian had barely slept. I knew because I heard him moving around the living room before dawn, opening and closing the zipper of his backpack, checking the same documents again and again. When I finally came out of my bedroom, he was sitting at the kitchen table with his injured leg stretched beneath it.
“You're going to wear a hole through those papers,” I said.
He looked up.
“I keep thinking I've missed something.”
“You haven't.”
“You don't know that.”
“I watched you organize them four times.”
“That doesn't mean I didn't miss something.”
I poured coffee into two mugs.
“You're nervous.”
He looked down at the documents.
“Yes.”
It was the first time he'd admitted it.
I set a mug in front of him.
“You don't have to pretend with me.”
He wrapped both hands around it.
“I've spent eleven months being told I misunderstood what happened.”
I sat opposite him.
“Then today isn't about convincing yourself.”
“What is it about?”
“Making them answer the questions they avoided.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
Leo came into the kitchen wearing one sock.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Where?”
“Julian has an appointment.”
“Can I come?”
“No. School.”
He frowned.
“Will you be back?”
“I promise.”
He looked at Julian.
“Will you?”
Julian smiled.
“I'll try.”
Leo didn't like that answer.
“You have to come back.”
Julian's smile faded slightly.
“I'll do my best.”
We left shortly afterward.
The workers' compensation office was inside a government building downtown. The lobby smelled of old carpet and printer toner. People sat along the walls holding folders and envelopes, looking as though they had been waiting for answers for years.
Julian moved slowly beside me.
At the elevator, he leaned against the wall.
“Pain?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to sit?”
“No.”
I didn't argue.
When we reached the fourth floor, a woman behind a glass partition checked Julian's name.
“Mr. Reed?”
“Yes.”
She looked at his paperwork.
“Review hearing, room six.”
Julian nodded.
We sat outside the room.
For several minutes neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “If they ask whether I was following procedure, I'm going to say yes.”
“You should.”
“If they ask whether I inspected the platform that morning, I did.”
“You did.”
“If they ask whether I signed the maintenance checklist, I did.”
I turned toward him.
“Julian.”
“What?”
“You don't have to rehearse the truth.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
“You just need to tell it.”
He gave a tired smile.
“That's harder than it sounds.”
A door opened.
“Mr. Reed?”
Julian stood.
We entered.
There were three people at the table.
A hearing officer.
A representative from the insurance company.
And a man Julian immediately recognized.
I saw Julian's shoulders stiffen.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
“Martin Cole.”
“Who?”
“Operations supervisor.”
The man looked at Julian but didn't greet him.
The hearing officer asked us to sit.
She reviewed the file.
“Mr. Reed, we're here to reconsider the denial of your claim based on newly submitted maintenance documentation.”
Julian nodded.
“Yes.”
The insurance representative opened a folder.
“We maintain that Mr. Reed's injury resulted from failure to follow safety procedure.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
The hearing officer looked at him.
“Is that your position?”
“No.”
“Explain.”
Julian took a breath.
“The platform had already been reported as unstable.”
The representative interrupted.
“There is no verified record of that.”
Julian looked at the folder in front of him.
“There are two reports.”
“We have copies of maintenance requests, but neither identifies the platform as unsafe.”
Julian looked at me.
I slid the photocopies across the table.
The hearing officer examined them.
“Mr. Reed, where did these come from?”
“My personal records.”
“Why weren't they included with your original claim?”
“They were.”
The insurance representative frowned.
“Our file does not show that.”
Julian looked at Martin Cole.
“I gave them to Mr. Cole.”
Martin shook his head.
“No, you didn't.”
The room went silent.
Julian stared at him.
“I handed them to you.”
“You may have given me something, but it wasn't these.”
“It was the same reports.”
“You're mistaken.”
I felt Julian's hand tighten around the edge of his chair.
The hearing officer raised a hand.
“Let's stay with the evidence.”
She examined the dates.
The first report was dated twelve days before the accident.
The second was dated three days before.
“What happened after the second report?” she asked.
Julian answered.
“I was told to inspect the platform.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. Cole.”
Martin shook his head again.
“I don't recall that.”
Julian looked directly at him.
“You signed the inspection request.”
Martin leaned back.
“That isn't proof I gave the instruction.”
The insurance representative spoke.
“Mr. Reed had responsibility for routine inspection.”
“I know.”
“And he signed the maintenance checklist.”
“Yes.”
“So the condition of the platform was his responsibility.”
Julian's face hardened.
“The platform wasn't mine.”
The hearing officer looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“The maintenance department had reported the support brackets. The platform required structural inspection. I was not authorized to repair structural components.”
Martin interrupted.
“That's not how the department worked.”
Julian looked at him.
“You know that's how it worked.”
The hearing officer asked for the department's safety manual.
The insurance representative produced a copy.
Julian read it.
Then he pointed to a section near the bottom.
“That's the problem.”
The hearing officer leaned closer.
“What?”
“This version is different.”
Martin's face changed.
“What are you talking about?”
Julian turned the manual around.
“The version we used listed structural inspections under facilities management. This one assigns it to maintenance.”
The hearing officer looked at the publication date.
The insurance representative reached for it.
Julian pulled his copy from his backpack.
“I kept the old manual.”
The hearing officer compared them.
Different wording.
Different responsibility.
Different procedure.
The room became very quiet.
The representative looked at Martin.
Martin stared at the table.
The hearing officer asked, “Mr. Cole, when was this procedure changed?”
Martin hesitated.
“I'd have to check.”
“You should have that information.”
“Yes.”
“Then get it.”
He stood reluctantly.
While he searched through another folder, Julian leaned toward me.
“I told you.”
“What?”
“They changed the story.”
The hearing officer eventually paused the review.
She requested the company's original safety records and ordered additional documentation.
The claim was not approved that day.
But it wasn't denied either.
When we stepped into the hallway, Julian leaned against the wall.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
Then he shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You did well.”
“I almost lost my temper.”
“You didn't.”
“I wanted to.”
“So did I.”
He looked at me.
“You?”
“Yes.”
That made him laugh softly.
Outside, sunlight hit the pavement.
For the first time in months, Julian looked as though he could imagine a future beyond the next meal.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression disappeared.
“Who is it?”
“Martin.”
He answered.
“Hello?”
He listened.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he said, “No.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“He wants to meet tonight.”
“Why?”
“He said he has something that belongs to me.”
“What?”
Julian looked at me.
“I don't know.”
But the way he said it made me think he had an idea.
And whatever Martin had, Julian clearly believed it mattered.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Martin Cole Asked to Meet in Secret, and the Envelope He Handed Julian Contained a Detail That Changed What We Thought Happened
My Son Stopped Beside the Grocery Store Wall, and the Stranger He Couldn’t Stop Watching Forced Me to Make a Choice I Had Never Planned
Part 5 of 12
