Page 6

Penn

T he soft hum of the refrigerator fills the kitchen, the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the early-morning hour.

I managed a few hours of sleep, but I was too wired by Mila’s arrival, the things I’d learned and my invitation for her to stay in my home.

The house feels different with someone else in it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my space with anyone—since back in my junior hockey days—and even though Mila is only one other person in ten thousand square feet of living space, it feels suffocating.

There’s no sense in bemoaning it now, though.

She asked to stay and I agreed, so I’ll stand by it.

That’s the way I’m built. Apparently, I’m also built with a bit of a sentimental conscience, because once I heard that Mila’s family had disowned her and taken Peter’s side, I knew I couldn’t let her flounder alone.

That’s what kept me awake the most… the way Mila had looked last night standing at my gate, half-frozen, desperate and terrified.

I scrub a hand through my hair, clicking my laptop open on the kitchen island, and sink onto a high-back stool. Steam curls from the coffee mug beside me, the bitterness of it settling on my tongue as I take a slow sip.

And now? Now I need information, because there’s power within it.

I pull up my browser and after a few spot-on searches, a handful of articles pop up. I scan them quickly, zeroing in on what I need and confirming what Mila told me. Peter Brennan is to be released from the Stillwater Correctional Facility on January 20.

Five days from now.

Knots form in my shoulders from the tension and I roll my neck to find some relief. I lean back in my stool, clicking through to another search tab. If Peter’s about to be out in the world again, I need to know where the rest of them are.

Jace Holloway.

I search his name next, scrolling through the results.

He’s been out of prison for over a year, but there’s barely anything recent on him.

No active social media accounts, no news mentions.

Just a few old photos—one from when he played for the Wraiths, so full of youth and optimism.

Another showing the exact opposite—mugshot, eyes vacant, expression empty.

No updates on where he is now, which means he could be anywhere. For the life of me, I can’t remember where he was from originally.

I click to another tab and pull up Ryan DeLuca.

He wasn’t criminally charged, but his hockey career was obliterated. The last article I find on him is almost eight years old: Former Muskogee Wraiths Captain Ryan DeLuca Cut from Minor League Roster, Struggles to Regain Standing .

I don’t have an ounce of regret that his life went to shit. He deserved it.

Next up—Colton Briggs.

The search yields the same thing. No criminal charges, but no career either. His name is attached to a few college hockey articles before he disappeared off the radar.

And then there’s Jacob McLendon. I already know where he is and we’ve had our run-ins throughout our years in the professional league.

He’s enjoying a successful career with the Winnipeg Rebels and because we’re in different conferences, our games have been limited to a few a year.

I’ve always been on the receiving end of hateful looks and hard hits on the ice from the asshole, but he’s never struck as dirty as he did last month when the Rebels came here to play.

He illegally cross-checked me in the back, a move that could have broken my neck if I wasn’t adequately braced.

As it was, it rattled the fuck out of me and King—as my defenseman—ended up dropping the gloves against the guy and drew blood in retribution.

I pull up McLendon’s profile on his team’s website.

He’s a defenseman and back on the Wraiths, we were on the same line.

He’s not a top player, but he’s still in the league and doing well.

He was never part of what happened to Nathan, but he hates me for toppling the house of cards and ruining our team.

I consider, briefly, whether I should call him. If anyone is still in contact with those guys, it’s probably McLendon. But if I go down that road, I have to be ready for whatever reaction I get.

That’s a thought for another time, though.

Rubbing my hand across the back of my neck, I feel a million years old.

I take another sip of my coffee and stare at the computer screen.

I’m feeling like a little self-punishment and decide to take a trip down memory lane.

I need to recalibrate myself. I need to remember what drove me to do what I did, which landed me—and Mila—in this exact position.

Would I do the same thing all over again?

Leaning forward, I tap on the keys to do a quick search for the news article I’ve read before, though not for many years. While the press had a field day covering Nathan’s death, this was the last article—the day it was all over and a dead boy got some justice.

My fingers hover over the trackpad for a second before I click on it.

Hockey Community Shaken as Hazing Incident Leads to GuiltyPleas

March 14—Muskogee, MN

A hazing incident within the Muskogee Wraiths junior hockey program has led to criminal convictions, leaving the hockey community deeply divided over the case.

Peter Brennan and Jace Holloway, both seventeen, pled guilty to charges of criminal hazing resulting in death and reckless endangerment.

As part of their plea deals, both admitted involvement in an alcohol-fueled retribution ritual that resulted in the death of Nathan Gentry, fifteen, a first-year player for the Wraiths.

According to the prosecution, Gentry was subjected to excessive alcohol consumption, physical intimidation, and physical abuse, then left unattended in the team’s practice facility after exhibiting signs of severe alcohol poisoning.

He was found unresponsive the next morning and later pronounced dead at the hospital.

Two unnamed witnesses, both minors at the time, came forward, providing critical testimony that led to the plea deals. Their identities remain protected to prevent harassment or intimidation, though sources within the team indicated they were known among their former teammates.

The evidence showed that Brennan was the main perpetrator and received twelve years in Stillwater Correctional Facility with the possibility of parole for good behavior.

Jace Holloway, who purportedly did not participate in the physical abuse, received nine years in state prison with the possibility of parole.

The fallout extended beyond Brennan and Holloway.

Team owners and the board of directors unanimously voted to expel players Ryan DeLuca and Colton Briggs from the Wraiths as they were also implicated in the hazing, but the evidence was insufficient to lead to criminal charges.

They were permanently banned from the United States Youth Hockey League.

Coach Mark Brennan, Peter’s father, was terminated from his position after failing to report prior hazing complaints and banned from coaching in the USYHL.

Community reaction remains split. Some argue that the sentencing was too harsh, believing the incident to be a tragic accident rather than a crime, while others maintain that justice was served.

I lean back once again, staring at the screen, the black-and-white text blurring slightly. Nothing I don’t already know. Nothing I hadn’t lived through firsthand. But seeing it laid out like this, in cold, factual sentences, it still has a way of cutting through me.

Lives were ruined in the end. Peter and Jace went to prison.

Ryan and Colton lost any hope of ever having professional hockey careers.

Mark Brennan couldn’t coach anymore. Mila and I were pariahs and the Muskogee Wraiths program took years to recover from the scandal, losing top talent and failing to make the playoffs for three consecutive years.

My fingers tighten around my coffee mug.

But it was Nathan Gentry who lost the most—his life.

My stomach rolls as I think about what they did to him.

The criminal investigation provided gory details I didn’t want to know.

That poor kid—whose only sin to earn him such enmity from the older members of the team was a few missed passes in a game that caused us to lose.

Peter and Jace—they were going to punish him to make sure it didn’t happen again.

I wasn’t there but I heard all about it that night. Me, Jace, Peter, Ryan, Colton… all hanging out at Peter’s house. While the players lived with billet families, Peter’s dad was the coach and they had a huge recreation room where, more often than not, the older players chilled.

Fuck, they were vicious, laughing over how they jumped Nathan, stripped him naked, and forced him to drink alcohol until he started puking. They hit him with rubber hoses and paddles and I almost vomited when Jace bragged, “We even shaved his hair. That will teach him a good lesson.”

It was all fun and games to them, and I don’t doubt, not one of them thought he’d die. I know that wasn’t their intent, but it was still their fault all the same.

I don’t know if Nathan fought back because they never said, but in my nightmares, I could only imagine that he was begging them to stop. I have to believe he was crying, desperate for the torture to end.

And when he was too drunk he couldn’t stand up and finally passed out, and their fun was over, they still had a good laugh over the fact they left him naked on the locker room floor, knowing he was going to be sore from the beating and good and hungover for practice the next day.

Unfortunately, Nathan aspirated on his own vomit and was dead when the janitor arrived that morning to open the facility.