Silent Son

by Gallatin Warfield

  Judge Hanks looked at King and Jacobs. “That’s permissible.”

  King scowled. “Object,” he repeated. Jacobs shook his head.

  “Overruled,” Hanks answered. “Go ahead, Counsel.”

  Jennifer walked Granville to the door. With her hand on his narrow shoulder, she kept him in a straight line that took him directly to the starting point. When they arrived, Jennifer gave Granville a gentle tap to turn him around.

  Gardner looked over at his son. The boy looked like he was going to faint. He was beginning to shake, and his face was as colorless as death.

  “Now I want you to think back,” Jennifer said softly. “To the time after you went to the cave. When your teacher brought you here to Bowers Corner.”

  Granville’s eyes were spinning now, and he looked like he was about to go into a spasm.

  Gardner had seen enough. He stood up and walked toward his son.

  “What do you think you’re doin’?” King said nastily as Gardner passed by.

  “Go to hell!” the prosecutor snarled.

  “Mr. Lawson?” Judge Hanks had no idea what was happening.

  Gardner didn’t answer. He walked over to Granville and took his hand. This had gone far enough. He was going to take the boy out. Out of the door. Out of the case. Gardner pulled on the boy’s hand, but Granville resisted. “No, Dad,” he said with a sob.

  Gardner looked into Granville’s eyes. There was terror in them, but also resolve. He did not want to give up. “We can leave now,” Gardner whispered, a quiver in his own voice.

  “No,” Granville repeated. “I want to stay!” The dam was about to break.

  * * *

  When Brownie arrived at the Maple View Memorial Park, the backhoe was already in position. He’d called and arranged it with the caretaker, then scrambled from the helicopter to a waiting car. And now he was in the field of marble monuments, ready to unearth the final piece of the puzzle.

  The sun was hot, but the shade trees in the secluded corner of the lot shielded the grave from the burning rays. Brownie waved the hoe operator into position and gave a thumbs-up to dig.

  The whrrr of the engine rattled through the air as the hoe took its first bite of dirt. Another roar was followed by another gulp of root-infested sod.

  In a few minutes, the hoe operator stopped and signaled okay with his thumb and forefinger.

  Brownie looked into the hole. The top of a burial vault had been exposed. He nodded his head, and the man hooked a cable to it.

  In another second, the heavy metal cap had been lifted free. Brownie peered into the shadows.

  “Want me to pull that out too?” the operator asked.

  Brownie signaled no, and jumped down into the vault. Then he loosened the bolts in the coffin, held his breath, and raised the lid.

  twenty-three

  “Are we proceeding or not?” Judge Hanks demanded. Gardner, Jennifer, and Granville were still at the door, and it was not clear whether they were going to stay in or go out.

  “We’re ready, Your Honor,” Jennifer said.

  Granville gave his dad’s hand a mighty squeeze.

  “Can you ask Mr. Lawson to sit down?” King inquired. There was still a nasty twang in his voice.

  Gardner turned to the court. “I’m here for support, Judge. Miss Munday will continue to ask the questions.”

  Hanks nodded. That sounded okay to her. “Fine,” she said.

  King threw his pen down on his table in disgust.

  “Let’s move on,” the judge said.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Jennifer replied, turning to Granville. “Now I want you to think back to the day you visited the cave. You saw the angel, then you rode the bus down here. The other kids had lined up outside, but you ran ahead, into the door—”

  “Objection!” King was up again. “There’s no evidence of that! She’s adding in details that aren’t even in the record!”

  Hanks gave King a stern, cold-eyed stare. “She can lead, Mr. King! I’ve already ruled that! Now please keep quiet!”

  King uttered “huph!” and crossed his arms.

  “Go on, Miss Munday,” the judge said.

  Jennifer bent down and looked in Granville’s face. “You ran inside the door, didn’t you?”

  Granville shuffled his feet and squeezed so hard on Gardner’s hand his fingernails almost broke the skin. “Uh-huh,” he said.

  “Show me where you went,” Jennifer said.

  The room hushed below a whisper. Granville glanced at the door to get his bearings, then began to take a few tentative steps to the side, at an angle away from the entrance.

  “Is this the way you went?” Jennifer asked.

  Gardner matched his son’s strides, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Yes… yes,” Granville stuttered.

  The room was frozen. Every eye was on the boy, every heart pounding.

  “Okay,” Jennifer said. They were still moving forward. Toward the spot where the bodies had been found. The markings were no longer there, but the prosecutors knew the layout by heart. Granville was on the right track.

  “Okay,” Jennifer said. “You were going in this direction. Now, do you remember what you saw?”

  That was it. The thrust of Granville’s head through the door of time. He squeezed Gardner’s hand in an unbelievably strong grip, and looked down at the floor. Then he let out a scream.

  “Aahhhhhhh!” It was a scream of grief. A wail that came from the very roots of his soul.

  Gardner and Jennifer froze in place. The sound was horrible, gripping. It echoed from the walls like a siren. And then, suddenly, it died.

  Jennifer caught her breath. “Uh, what… what did you you see?” she asked shakily.

  Granville had shut his eyes tightly during the scream, but now he opened them. A line of tears rolled down each cheek.

  Gardner rubbed the boy’s back with his free hand, and held on tightly with the other.

  “Unca Henry,” Granville answered softly. The demon had finally been released.

  “And where was he?” Jennifer had concluded that they could go on.

  Granville pointed to the floor.

  “Let the record show that the witness designated the floor,” Jennifer said.

  “So noted,” Hanks responded.

  “Can you tell the judge about Uncle Henry?” Jennifer pressed on. “What did he look like?”

  A sob began to ripple through Granville, but he managed to stifle it. “All bloody,” he said.

  “Was anyone else in the room?” Jennifer asked.

  “Objection!” King and Jacobs couldn’t allow this. An invitation to an ID.

  “Overruled! Witness can answer!” Hanks was going to let this go as far as it could.

  “Anyone else in the room?” Jennifer repeated.

  “Aunt Addie,” Granville said, as a few more tears rolled out.

  “And what happened to her?” Jennifer asked.

  Granville closed his eyes again and squeezed his father’s hand. “She got all bloody too.”

  Jennifer sneaked a peek around the room. The people were immobile, like headstones.

  “And where was she?”

  Granville pointed to another spot on the floor, and Jennifer read its coordinates into the record. Again, it was correct. The exact location of Addie Bowers’s body.

  “Now, then,” Jennifer said, clearing her throat nervously, “was there anyone else in the room? Other than you, Addie, and Henry?” If the prior questions were lead-ins, this was truly it. The moment of truth.

  “Objection!” King and Jacobs had decided to give it one more try.

  “Overruled!” Hanks didn’t even look at them.

  Granville looked into Jennifer’s face. His tears were drying, and he seemed calmer.

  “Was there anyone else in the room?” Jennifer repeated.

  “Uh-huh,” Granville said.

  “That’s a yes,” Jennifer declared.

  Gardner felt his
son’s grip loosen. Granville had gone into the woods and come out on the other side. Now he was ready to keep moving on his own. He removed his hand from his father’s grasp.

  “I want you to look around the room,” Jennifer said. “Look around the room, and see if you recognize anybody. Anybody else who may have been in this room on the day you visited the cave.”

  King upended his chair clambering to his feet. “This is out of order!” he yelled. “She’s deliberately circumventing proper identification procedures!” The witness was nowhere near the decoys. He was standing directly opposite Roscoe Miller. Maneuvered there by the state. And it was perfectly legal.

  “The question is proper!” Judge Hanks said.

  “But…” King stuttered. He, the master, had finally been outflanked.

  “Shut up, Mr. King!” Hanks snapped. She was tired of his interruptions.

  “Look around the room, and see if you recognize anybody,” Jennifer said.

  Gardner held his breath.

  The boy peered into the crowd, and immediately locked on Roscoe Miller. He was cleaned up, and trimmed, but he still had the gleam of a rebel in his blue eyes. There was no hesitation on Granville’s part. He took a step closer, and the room hushed again.

  Miller looked like a rat in a trap, caught only by a snag of flesh. He was trying to play it cool, to look nonchalant, but his eyes couldn’t stay away. He looked into the boy’s face.

  “Now, take your time,” Jennifer cautioned. No need to rush it. The ID had to be perfect.

  Granville took another step toward Roscoe, and by now they were in a stare-down. And then, slowly, the boy lowered his own eyes. Down to Miller’s hands, folded on his lap. Down to the back of his wrist. Down to the tattooed face of death.

  “He… he…” Granville stammered, pointing directly at Roscoe.

  Miller moved his head away as the finger came closer.

  “He… he…” Granville couldn’t seem to get it out.

  And then, suddenly, Gardner lost it. The weeks of pain. The grief over Addie and Henry. The savagery of the crime. The senselessness. The suffering of Granville and himself. It all hit at once. “You animal!” Gardner screamed, drawing back his arm. “You goddamned animal!”

  Gardner’s rage caught everyone by surprise. They were too mesmerized by the scene to be prepared for this. The prosecutor was on the verge of battering the defendant to death. And no one was near enough to stop it. The sword of vengeance was about to come down.

  “No, Dad!” Granville cried suddenly, blocking his father’s arm with his own.

  Gardner stopped. What the hell was happening? He looked at his son.

  “Don’t hurt him.” Granville stuttered. “He… he helped me!”

  Gardner dropped his arm, and the courtroom exploded into bedlam. Chairs fell over. People scattered, and everyone started talking at once. And Gardner and Jennifer stood wordlessly in the middle of it all.

  “Order!” Judge Hanks screamed. “Let’s have order!” she banged her gavel on the table. “Everyone please sit down!”

  The commotion slowly subsided, and people began to return to their seats. But Gardner, Jennifer, and Granville still stood in silence in the center of the room.

  Suddenly, there was another commotion at the front door. A man rushed in and ran over to the prosecutors.

  “Brownie!” Gardner exclaimed. “What happened?”

  The police officer’s clothes were muddy, and he was sweating profusely.

  “Fell in a grave,” Brownie puffed. “Call me as a witness!”

  “What’s going on, Mr. Lawson?” Judge Hanks asked.

  Gardner looked across at the bench. He was so confused now, he could hardly talk.

  “Call me as a witness!” Brownie whispered.

  “One moment, please, Judge,” Gardner said. Then he turned to Brownie. “Granville’s still testifying…”

  “Take him off, and put me on,” Brownie persisted.

  “But—” Gardner argued.

  “Just do it!” Brownie said. “Call me. Set me up. And I’ll take it from there!”

  “Mr. Lawson, please!” Hanks was getting impatient.

  “We’d like to call a new witness, Judge,” Gardner said. “Admittedly out of order, but it’s an emergency.”

  Joel Jacobs had risen to his feet. “Objection!” His normal calm was gone. “You cannot allow this!”

  Hanks looked over at Kent King. He too was standing, but for the last few minutes he’d been busily conferring with his client.

  “What’s your position, Mr. King?” Hanks asked.

  King shrugged, and smiled. “No objection,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” Jacobs whispered.

  King didn’t answer.

  “Okay!” Hanks responded. “The state will be permitted to take a witness out of turn! Go ahead, Mr. Lawson!”

  Brownie walked toward the elevated chair.

  “Call Sergeant Joseph Brown,” Gardner announced. He had no idea what was going on, but what the hell? Maybe they’d soon find out. “Take Gran outside,” Gardner told Jennifer. “

  But I want to hear,” she argued.

  “Me too,” said Granville.

  “Move it, State,” Hanks said impatiently.

  “Okay,” Gardner whispered. “Sit over there and stay quiet.” He motioned to the prosecution table.

  “State your name and occupation for the record, please,” Gardner said.

  “Objection!” Jacobs was still standing. This was not supposed to be happening. “Judge, I beg you to put a halt to this abomination, now!”

  “Mr. Jacobs,” Hanks said sternly, “I will not. Proceed, Mr. Lawson!”

  “Name and occupation?” Gardner asked.

  Jacobs slumped into his chair.

  “Sergeant Joe Brown. Detective. County police.”

  “And did you have the occasion to investigate these cases? State v. Miller and State v. Starke?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “And can you tell the court and the jury your findings?” That was as far as Gardner could go. The setup. From here on, Brownie was on his own.

  “Yes I can,” Brownie said. “It all began many years ago, in the battlefields of Europe, during World War Two—”

  “Objection,” Jacobs said weakly. “This is blatant hearsay.”

  “Overruled,” Hanks replied, and her expression made it clear that she was going to allow Brownie to say what he wanted.

  “Anyhow,” Brownie continued, “two men formed a friendship back then. Two fine, decent men. They fought side by side through the toughest combat of the war. And one day, one of the men saved the other’s life. Crawled through murderous gunfire. Got wounded himself, but pulled the other man through…”

  The courtroom was mesmerized again. The only one stirring was IV Starke, shifting nervously as each word came out.

  “And then the war was over,” Brownie went on, “and the men returned to the United States. One was rich, the other poor. But there was a strange turn of fate. The rich man and his wife had a problem. They wanted a family. An heir to the fortune. A child to carry on the name. But it was not to be. The wife was infertile…”

  Gardner looked at Jennifer. The picture was beginning to materialize.

  “But the poor man was blessed with a son. A fine boy child with a not-so-promising future in the Maryland hills, barely scratching out an existence. And then, fate stepped in.” Brownie’s voice dropped dramatically low. “The obligations of the past came due. One life was saved, and that created a debt. A debt that could only be satisfied by a trade…”

  “Oh, God,” Gardner said under his breath. He suddenly saw the whole tragic story. The secret exchange that ultimately led to murder.

  “So the poor man gave the rich man his own son. To raise and keep and pass on the fortune and the name. And the rich man gave the poor man three million dollars cash…”

  “Which he never spent,” Gardner whispered sadly.

  �
�And no one knew about the switch,” Brownie continued. “They faked the death of the poor man’s child, and falsified the records of the rich man’s. And no one ever knew…”

  Gardner looked at Jennifer. She had tears in her eyes. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “But as the years went on, fate struck again. The poor man’s wife couldn’t have any more children. The first was all she was ever going to conceive. And as far as the world knew, that child was dead. But the poor man grieved, in his own way. And he was rewarded. His own son, with the rich man’s name, was enrolled in a boarding school nearby. Purposely, so the poor man could see him, but only from a distance…”

  “The football games,” Gardner whispered as Jennifer squeezed his fingers.

  “So the poor man watched his own son play ball, and grow up, and become a fine person. And in his honor, the poor man gave money to the school. Every year, in August. A hundred thousand dollars. A secret donation. But the son never knew his real father. And the poor man never told…”

  Gardner looked at Granville. The boy’s eyes were wide.

  “But then, the poor man got old, and he continued to grieve for his child. And, once again, fate stepped in. A grandson came to the school. A young man who looked a lot like his father. But the resemblance was only skin deep…”

  IV Starke began to stand up, but Gardner motioned the sheriff to hold him down. He fell back without a struggle.

  “The boy had a history of nasty behavior. He was a bully and he liked to hurt people, but because of his money and his power, the family was able to cover it up. But the poor old man didn’t know anything about that side of his grandson’s personality, and that’s when he made his fatal mistake. He contacted the boy. Violated the pact that had been made so many years before. In his grief and his pain, the poor man let it slip. Told the grandson who he was—”

  “Bullshit!” IV Starke yelled from the back of the room.

  “Quiet!” Judge Hanks ordered. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll have you gagged!”

  “But the boy wasn’t impressed,” Brownie continued. “In fact, he was devastated. In his twisted mind, this couldn’t be. He was from a line of bluebloods, not shopkeepers. He tried to disprove it. There had to be a mistake…”