“I want my sons,” he said coolly, “and I won’t allow biker trash to raise them. No judge in this state will grant custody to someone like you.”
Then he walked away, leaving Diesel standing amid the chaos, blood from his sister’s death still on his hands, rage and grief coiling together. Diesel vowed silently: Those boys will never be raised by a man who abandoned their mother—not while I’m alive.
The ensuing custody battle was brutal. Joe had wealth, influence, and high-powered attorneys. He painted himself as a responsible, remorseful father who had simply “lost his way.” An investment banker, polished, stable, and ostensibly dependable.
Diesel had a small motorcycle repair shop, a one-bedroom apartment, and a leather vest covered with patches, each one making the courtroom murmur with suspicion.
“Your Honor,” Joe’s lawyer said with a silky tone, “my client provides a stable, secure environment. Mr. Spellman, while well-intentioned, leads a lifestyle incompatible with raising three children. Motorcycle clubs are commonly associated with criminal activity, substance abuse, and violence.”
“The Iron Patriots are a veterans’ organization,” Diesel’s attorney shot back. “Mr. Spellman served two tours in Afghanistan, runs a legitimate business, and has no criminal record.”
