Chapter 8 - The Costly Mistake
The mistake was Morgan's.
It came two weeks after the dock, after the lab report, after the investigation had been opened, after Commander Vale had been formally charged — after all of it — when she made a decision that she had been avoiding for sixteen years.
She decided to call the man in Norfolk.
His name was Kevin Brennan. He was fifty-two years old. He was the nineteen-year-old seaman her father had pulled out of the flooding compartment on the night of October 14, 2003. He had been recovered by a U.S. submarine. He had been flown to a hospital in Hawaii. He had been treated for hypothermia and for a broken arm and for a punctured lung. He had been discharged from the hospital in December 2003. He had been reassigned to shore duty in Norfolk. He had been told, by a lieutenant commander, that he was not to speak of the incident. He had been told that the incident was classified. He had been told that if he ever spoke of the incident he would be court-martialed. He had been told, on the day that he was released from the hospital, that the officer who had been responsible for his survival — the chief boatswain's mate who had gone back down the ladder to find him — had been "recovered" and had been "transferred to a hospital in the United States."
He had not been recovered.
He had been "recovered" only in the sense that his body had been "recovered" — actually, no, his body had never been recovered. He had been "recovered" only in the sense that the Navy had declared him recovered. He had been "recovered" only in the sense that the Navy had told a nineteen-year-old seaman a lie so that the nineteen-year-old seaman would stop asking questions.
Kevin Brennan had believed the lie for sixteen years.
He had believed it because he had been nineteen years old. He had believed it because he had been in a hospital bed in Hawaii. He had believed it because the man who had told him had been in a lieutenant commander's uniform. He had believed it because it was easier to believe than the alternative.
Morgan Hale called him on a Tuesday evening in May.
He answered on the third ring.
"Brennan."
"Mr. Brennan. This is Chief Petty Officer Morgan Hale. I am a Navy diver."
There was a long pause.
"Hale," Brennan said. "That is not a common name."
"No, sir. It is not."
"I knew a Hale. A long time ago."
"Yes, sir. I know you did."
Another pause.
"Chief Hale," Brennan said, "what is this about?"
"Mr. Brennan, I am the daughter of Chief Boatswain's Mate Thomas Hale. He was the chief who pulled you out of your rack on the night of October 14, 2003."
The line went silent.
He said, "Chief Hale, I am going to ask you something, and I am going to ask you to answer it honestly. Is he alive?"
"No, sir. He is not alive."
The line went silent again.
"He died, Mr. Brennan. He died that night. He went back down the ladder a second time to look for another seaman. The other seaman was recovered. My father was not. He died in the flooding compartment. His body was never recovered. His name is on a memorial wall at Pearl Harbor. His status was changed to killed in action in 2005. He is dead. He has been dead for sixteen years."
The line was silent.
Then Brennan said, "I want you to know something, Chief Hale. I want you to know that I have thought about him every single day of my life. Every single day. For sixteen years. I have thought about the man who pulled me out of my rack and handed me up the ladder. I have thought about the man who said, 'Hold on to the ladder, son, I have to go back down.' I have thought about the man who did not come back up. And I have thought about what it must have been like to die in that compartment. In the dark. In the cold. Alone."
Morgan was crying.
"I want you to know that I named my son after him," Brennan said. "My son's name is Thomas. He is thirteen years old. He does not know why he is named Thomas. He thinks it is a coincidence. He thinks it is a name from his mother's side of the family. I have never told him the truth. I have never told anyone the truth. Because the Navy told me not to. Because the Navy told me that if I spoke about what happened on that ship, I would be court-martialed. Because the Navy told me that the men who died on that ship died in a training accident. Because the Navy told me that the chief who pulled me out of my rack was a hero who had been recovered and was in a hospital in the United States. Because the Navy told me that he would be okay."
"He was not okay, Mr. Brennan."
"I know he was not okay, Chief Hale. I have known he was not okay for sixteen years. And I want you to know that I am sorry. I am sorry that I did not go to his family. I am sorry that I did not go to his daughter. I am sorry that I did not stand up in front of the Navy and tell them that a chief boatswain's mate had died in the flooding compartment of the USS Anzio because the Navy had lied to him about what kind of ship he was on. I am sorry. And I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."
"Mr. Brennan—"
"Chief Hale, I am going to testify. I am going to testify about what your father did. I am going to testify about what happened to him. I am going to testify about the USS Anzio. I am going to testify about everything I have been afraid to say for sixteen years. And I want you to know that I am going to do it because you called me. Because you called me, and because you told me the truth, and because the truth is the only thing in this entire world that can save me from the man I would have become if I had stayed silent for the rest of my life."
"Mr. Brennan, I did not call you to ask you to testify."
"I know you did not. I am telling you that I am going to testify anyway. I am telling you that I am going to testify because I owe it to your father. I am telling you that I am going to testify because I owe it to myself. And I am telling you that I am going to testify because I owe it to my son, whose name is Thomas."
Morgan was crying.
"Mr. Brennan," she said, "my father would have liked you."
"I know he would have liked me," Brennan said. "He pulled me out of my rack. He went back down the ladder to save me. He did not know me. He had only known me for four months. And he went back down the ladder. That is the kind of man he was. That is the kind of man I have been trying to be for sixteen years. And I am going to spend the rest of my life trying. Because he did not get to have a life. And because I did. And because the only way I can honor him is to do what he would have done."
"Mr. Brennan—"
"Chief Hale, I am going to see you in court. I am going to see you in court, and I am going to testify, and I am going to tell the truth. And after the trial, I am going to bring my son Thomas to meet you. And I am going to tell him the truth about his name. And I am going to tell him about his grandfather — because that is who your father is to me, and that is who he is going to be to my son. He is going to be the man who went back down the ladder. And I am going to make sure that my son — and his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren — know who he was. And know what he did. And know that he was a hero."
Morgan hung up the phone.
She sat on her couch for a long time.
She did not cry.
She had cried enough. She had cried in the NCIS office. She had cried in her apartment. She had cried at the memorial wall at Pearl Harbor. She had cried at her mother's grave. She had cried in the car. She had cried in the rain. She had cried into a pillow and into a sink and into her own hands. She had cried for her father and for her mother and for the men who had died with her father and for the families who had been lied to for sixteen years.
She had cried.
And now she was done crying.
She stood up.
She walked to her kitchen table.
She picked up her phone.
She called Special Agent Reyes.
"Agent Reyes," she said, "I have a witness for you."
"Who?"
"His name is Kevin Brennan. He was a seaman aboard the USS Anzio in 2003. My father pulled him out of his rack. He is going to testify. He is going to testify that my father went back down the ladder. He is going to testify that my father did not come back up. He is going to testify that he has been trying to honor my father for sixteen years. And he is going to testify because I called him and told him the truth. Because the truth is the only thing in this entire world that can save us."
Reyes was quiet for a moment.
"Chief Hale," she said, "I am going to tell you something. In eighteen years as an NCIS agent, I have never — not once — seen a case where the truth came from the victim's daughter. The truth usually comes from a witness. A document. A recording. A mistake. Not from a daughter. Not from a daughter who has been waiting for sixteen years. Not from a daughter who has been diving on her father's ship. That is not how these cases work. That is how they should work. But that is not how they usually work."
"Ma'am—"
"Chief Hale, I am going to fight for you. I am going to fight for you and your father and the men who died with him and the families who were lied to for sixteen years. And I am going to fight for the seaman who was going to testify. And I am going to fight for every single person in this entire Navy who has ever been told that they cannot ask a question about a ship that was supposed to have been scrapped in 1997. And I am going to win. I am going to win because I have the truth. I am going to win because I have the nameplate. I am going to win because I have the lab report. I am going to win because I have the wreck. I am going to win because I have you. And I am going to win because the truth is the only thing in this entire world that is not afraid of a lie."
"Ma'am," Morgan said, "thank you."
"Thank me when it is over," Reyes said. "Thank me when he is in handcuffs."
The investigation was over four months later.
The court-martial was over eight months after that.
Commander Peter Vale was convicted on all counts.
He was sentenced to fourteen years.
He is serving his sentence at Fort Leavenworth.
He has not apologized.
He will not apologize.
It does not matter.
May you like
The truth is out.
And the truth is enough.
