[Hoffman turned to look at him and then passed over a folded letter. In neat, orderly easy to read handwriting-Angelina Aacomb ne' Hoffman has written to the man who is taking care of her brother.]
Constable. (is that right? Or is it george? Crabtree? I want to say the right thing.)
I wish we'd gotten a chance to meet face to face but I couldn't seem to find you and I was...occupied.
I don't know if my brother will ever show you any of this but I figured I had to trust in the person who he was and the person you seem to be helping him become which is...something wholly different from who he was when I knew him.
I don't think that's bad. In fact it's preferrable. Mark swore up and down when we were kids he'd never drink and now I find out he's an alcoholic and acting like our father. He told me time and again how much he hated him. He refused to take me to see him in prison because of it. (Did he talk about that?)
I have faith in Mark. I just don't want to say it. He does best when there's somebody to challenge him and I don't want him here anymore. He was supposed to get married and have kids, we were supposed to have lives and live better then our parents did. I love him. He's done so many bad things and good things...
I'm all mixed up. I love him but I want to leave him here to rot forever except from what he's written about you I bet that you wouldn't do that. Don't tell him what I wrote about wanting him to rot. I can't think about what he did without thinking of Amanda and his friends, the people he swore to protect and how he murdered them for some...savior. God wouldn't want that.
I wish my brother would fight for a cause like that. He needs something to do with himself. He needs to serve, he's never been independent except regarding me and..
I wish I knew how you could help him more then just...he needs to either have something to serve or have friends and know that there's more to life then the law. He doesn't get a middle ground anymore.
You must have the patience of a saint to put up with him. I threw him out even after he swore he was trying to protect me.
...Please take care of him. And yourself. And hit him upside the head if he doesn't get his head out of his big fat butt and get out of here and go home.
...thank you. So much.
Angelina.
[He didn't say a word, just watching-waiting for a response.]
Spaaam!
Constable. (is that right? Or is it george? Crabtree? I want to say the right thing.)
I wish we'd gotten a chance to meet face to face but I couldn't seem to find you and I was...occupied.
I don't know if my brother will ever show you any of this but I figured I had to trust in the person who he was and the person you seem to be helping him become which is...something wholly different from who he was when I knew him.
I don't think that's bad. In fact it's preferrable. Mark swore up and down when we were kids he'd never drink and now I find out he's an alcoholic and acting like our father. He told me time and again how much he hated him. He refused to take me to see him in prison because of it. (Did he talk about that?)
I have faith in Mark. I just don't want to say it. He does best when there's somebody to challenge him and I don't want him here anymore. He was supposed to get married and have kids, we were supposed to have lives and live better then our parents did. I love him. He's done so many bad things and good things...
I'm all mixed up. I love him but I want to leave him here to rot forever except from what he's written about you I bet that you wouldn't do that. Don't tell him what I wrote about wanting him to rot. I can't think about what he did without thinking of Amanda and his friends, the people he swore to protect and how he murdered them for some...savior. God wouldn't want that.
I wish my brother would fight for a cause like that. He needs something to do with himself. He needs to serve, he's never been independent except regarding me and..
I wish I knew how you could help him more then just...he needs to either have something to serve or have friends and know that there's more to life then the law. He doesn't get a middle ground anymore.
You must have the patience of a saint to put up with him. I threw him out even after he swore he was trying to protect me.
...Please take care of him. And yourself. And hit him upside the head if he doesn't get his head out of his big fat butt and get out of here and go home.
...thank you. So much.
Angelina.
[He didn't say a word, just watching-waiting for a response.]