Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO BLAMED EVERYONE
Derek got worse before he got better.
If he got better at all.
For months, he blamed Peterson Tech.
Then Julian.
Then me.
Then Melissa.
Then Dad.
Everyone had betrayed him.
Everyone had become too sensitive.
Everyone wanted him punished for “telling the truth.”
He appealed the termination.
Lost.
Threatened a lawsuit.
His attorney apparently reviewed the evidence and advised against it.
Then he posted online.
Nothing specific enough to violate confidentiality.
Just vague things:
Corporate America punishes real leadership.
Weak people weaponize victimhood.
Family loyalty means nothing anymore.
I blocked him.
Then one evening he came to my house.
I saw him through the camera.
Did not open the door.
“Virgil!”
Lucas was upstairs.
I stepped outside through the side gate and met Derek near the driveway.
“You need to leave.”
“I want to talk.”
“No.”
“Dad gets to see Lucas.”
“Dad apologized.”
“I apologized.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
I stared.
He threw his hands up.
“Fine. I’m sorry about the toys.”
“For what?”
His face tightened.
“You all do that now.”
“Do what?”
“Make me perform.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I want to know whether you understand.”
“They were toys.”
There it was.
Still.
I shook my head.
“Then we’re done.”
He grabbed my shoulder.
Not hard.
Still enough.
I stepped back immediately.
“Do not touch me.”
His face changed.
Maybe he realized how far he had gone.
Maybe not.
“Virgil.”
“Leave.”
“I lost my job.”
“Yes.”
“My wife left.”
“Yes.”
“My kids barely talk to me.”
His voice broke.
“And you’re standing there acting like none of it matters.”
“It matters.”
I looked directly at him.
“But none of those things were done to you because of me.”
Silence.
“They happened after choices you made.”
His eyes filled with rage.
“So what? I’m supposed to say I’m a monster?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“You’re supposed to stop needing everyone else to be weak so you can feel strong.”
The words hit.
He looked away.
I continued.
“Dad did that to us.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
“You copied him.”
“So did you.”
That stopped me.
Because he was right.
Not in the same way.
But I had copied Frank too.
I swallowed discomfort.
“How?”
“You disappear when things get emotional.”
I said nothing.
“You become calm. Reasonable. Perfect.”
Derek laughed bitterly.
“Dad yelled. I yelled louder. You became ice.”
My chest tightened.
I hated the accuracy.
“Maybe.”
“You act like you escaped him.”
“No.”
I looked toward my house.
“I’m trying.”
That was the first honest thing between us all night.
Derek’s anger faded slightly.
Then:
“Can I see Lucas?”
“No.”
His face hardened again.
“Virgil.”
“When you can explain what you did without saying ‘just toys,’ we can discuss whether he wants contact.”
“You’re making a child decide family relationships?”
“Yes.”
“Because he’s the one you hurt.”
Derek stared at me.
Then walked away.
No apology.
No breakthrough.
But three months later, Frank told me Derek had entered anger-management counseling.
I did not call him.
Change done for an audience rarely survives.
May you like
If Derek wanted back into our lives, he could do the work without applause.
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