“We have a few questions,” the Defense Attorney said.
“Ms. Delgado? Are you up to a few questions or should we take a break?” the Judge asked.
“I can do it,” Sissy said.
The Defense Attorney stood from the table. He walked toward Sissy and stopped.
“Do you know of your own knowledge that my client was connected to your shooting?” the Defense Attorney said.
“That’s just dumb,” Sissy said. “He’s the only one who would benefit from my brother Charlie not testifying.”
The Defense Attorney glanced at the jury. He nodded as if he’d heard them say something to him.
“You’re just being dramatic when you say you’ll not dance again,” the Defense Attorney said. “Aren’t you?”
Sissy looked like she’d been slapped. Tears returned to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a sob. She closed her mouth and looked down.
“Ms. Delgado?” the Defense Attorney asked.
When Sissy kept looking down, Samantha jumped to her feet.
“Your honor,” Samantha Hargreaves said. She gestured to Sissy. “The Defense Attorney is asking. . .”
“I just don’t know what to say.” Sissy looked up at Samantha. “You’re a person who helps liars and rapists get out of being punished. This guy thought it was okay to kill me so he didn’t have to take responsibility for his own actions. How could you possibly understand what’s in front of me? I have a year to get dancing again or lose my apprenticeship. If I lose my apprenticeship, I will lose my chance at dancing, probably anywhere. That’s how ballet works. Am I going to give it my all? Sure. Am I going to work my ass off? Sure. But how could you possibly understand that? You make money off of scumbags.”
Sissy turned to the Judge.
“I think I need to go home now,” Sissy said.
“Motion to strike,” the Defense Attorney said.
“Jury, you will disregard Ms. Delgado’s last statement,” the Judge said. “Do you release this witness?”
“Yes, your honor,” the Defense Attorney nodded.
“We’re going to take a break,” the Judge said. “In this time, I want you each to think about what the hell we’re doing here.”
As the jury filed out of court, Samantha helped Sissy down from the witness box. Aden arrived just as Sissy was stepping down. With Samantha on one side and Aden on the other, Sissy made her way out of court.
“How did I do?” Sissy asked.
“I thought you were brilliant,” Samantha said. “I particularly liked your last statement.”
“But it won’t matter,” Sissy said. “The Judge told the jury to disregard it.”
“They still heard it,” Samantha said. “You should have seen their faces. They looked at the Defense Attorney like he was scum.”
“He is scum,” Sissy said.
“You’ve got that right,” Samantha said.
At the door of the courtroom, Samantha let go of Sissy.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Samantha said.
“What’s happening tonight?” Sissy asked.
“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” Samantha asked.
Sissy shook her head. Samantha looked at Aden.
“The Denver Ballet is running through their production,” Aden said. “They’ve invited us to come to watch.”
“How fun!” Sissy said. She visibly brightened.
“So go home and rest,” Samantha said.
Sissy gave Samantha a sincere nod. With Aden’s help, they made it to the car.
“Meds?” Aden asked.
“Please,” Sissy said.
Aden gave her a pain med, her antibiotic, and a bottle of water.
“Are you up for seeing people, or should we go home?” Aden asked.
“Home, definitely home,” Sissy said.
“As you wish,” Aden said.
Sissy held on until they reached the Castle.
“Can I just. . .?” Sissy asked.
She gestured to the couch in the main Castle living room.
“Of course,” Aden said.
He whistled for Buster, who came trotting down the stairs. Buster jumped up on the couch, and Sissy lay next to him. She was asleep in a moment.
“How did she do?” Delphie asked.
“She’s amazing,” Aden said. “Truly amazing.”
~~~~~~~~
Wednesday afternoon — 12:25 p.m.
Sandy was sitting in the den area of Seth’s house, reading a magazine. Sitting on the couch next to her, Charlie was practicing his French with Anjelika. He stopped talking when Sandy’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?” Sandy asked.
“Hi. It’s Samantha.”
“What’s the word?” Sandy asked. “Should I bring Charlie or not?”
“The Defense is asking if they can make a deal,” Samantha said.
“Sissy must have been really good,” Sandy said.
“Sissy was fantastic,” Samantha said. “She’s set the tone for the entire trial.”
“What do we need to do?” Sandy asked.
“We need to get the victims together to see if they will accept a deal,” Samantha said.
“We spent all Sunday doing that bullshit,” Sandy said.
“I know,” Samantha said. “They claim to be serious this time.”
“You tell them that I’ll get everyone together when and if they have a deal,” Sandy said.
Samantha didn’t say anything.
“Can you make that happen?” Sandy asked.
Samantha chuckled.
“Why is that funny?” Sandy asked.
“Because I can most certainly make that happen,” Samantha said.
“Thanks,” Sandy said.
“As always, Sandy, I’m amazed with you,” Samantha said.
“Well, let’s just see if they’re not just torturing us some more,” Sandy said.
“I’ll call when I know something,” Samantha said.
“Thanks,” Sandy said and hung up the phone.
“What’s the word?” Charlie said.
“The word is ‘bullshit,’” Sandy said.
“La connerie,” Anjelika said.
“La connerie?” Charlie asked. “What does that mean?”
“‘Bullshit,’” Anjelika said.
Sandy laughed. Charlie smiled.
“Make a sentence,” Anjelika said.
“C’est la connerie,” Charlie said.
“Ce sont des conneries,” Anjelika said.
Charlie repeated the sentence, and Sandy looked back at her magazine. They settled into wait.
~~~~~~~~
Wednesday afternoon — 1:20 p.m.
“Anyone home?”
They heard Samantha’s voice from the front door.
“In here,” Sandy called from the den area of Seth’s house.
“Sorry,” Samantha said. “I rang, but no one came. I knew you were here, so I just let myself in.”
“The bell’s broken,” Sandy said.
“And the foxy workman didn’t fix it?” Samantha asked.
“The foxy workman has been taking care of Sir Charles here,” Dale said as he walked into the room with a bowl of hot buttered popcorn. “Plus, Seth doesn’t want it fixed. He’d rather people didn’t come here. How did you get in?”
“Maresol gave me a key when Charlie first got here from the hospital,” Samantha said.
“We were just about to watch a movie,” Sandy said.
“Sorry, we need to get to court,” Samantha said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Why?” Charlie asked. “I thought they were getting a plea bargain.”
“The District Attorney turned down their offer,” Samantha said. “He feels confident that we’ll win.”
“Oh,” Charlie said.
“Is that okay, Charlie?” Samantha asked. “If it’s not, I’ll call him and tell him we want this to be done with.”
“Oh, no,”
Charlie said. “I’m just nervous, you know?”
“You can do this, Charlie,” Anjelika said.
He glanced at her and nodded to her smile.
“Well, help me up,” Charlie said.
Dale got Charlie to his feet. He gave Charlie his crutches. They all took a bathroom break before heading to court. Charlie was likely to testify for a couple of days.
“You okay, Charlie?” Sandy asked.
“I’m ready,” Charlie said.
He gave Sandy a broken-toothed grin, and they set off toward the car.
Chapter Three Hundred and Seventy-three
Taking it seriously
Wednesday afternoon — 2:10 p.m.
“State your name,” the District Attorney said.
“Charles Delgado,” Charlie said.
He raised his hand in a kind of wave. He was wearing an expensive suit that Maresol had bought for him. His hair was long but styled. Even with his still broken teeth and healing bones, he was model handsome. Dale had helped Charlie up to the stand this afternoon.
When the Denver Police learned that Sissy and Charlie were testifying, they decided to make their presence known. They cleared the court of everyone except those involved in the trial and Dale. Two friends of Charlie’s father, Mitch, were guarding the door.
“Charlie,” he said before the District Attorney could ask a question. “I’m Mitch’s son — Charlie.”
The Judge put his hand on the edge of his desk, and Charlie looked up.
“Let him ask you, Charlie,” the Judge said.
“Oh, sorry. You said that,” Charlie nodded. He leaned over. “I’m nervous.”
The Judge nodded, and Charlie sat back in his chair.
“Charlie, we notice that your legs are broken,” the District Attorney said. “Your right arm and left hand are still in casts.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “That and my teeth are all that’s left. My dad used to say that we Delgados heal fast. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s what he said.”
“Two broken legs, a broken hand, and a broken arm seem like a lot to me,” the District Attorney said.
“Oh, it was a lot worse,” Charlie said. “Like I said, I heal fast. Sissy, too.”
“How did this happen?” the District Attorney asked.
“Um, my dad got really sick after Vietnam. . .” Charlie started. “Uh, Agent Orange. . .”
“Your legs and arms,” the District Attorney said.
“Oh, sorry.” Charlie flashed a smile. “I haven’t really been out of the house for a while so all of this is. . .”
Charlie nodded.
“Take your time, Charlie,” the Judge said.
“I had to work late and. . . well, I didn’t have to work late,” Charlie said. “I was trying to help my co-worker clean up. We’d had this crazy night, and she was on clean up. I stayed to help.”
“Stayed where?” the Judge asked.
“At Sam’s No. 3, on Fifteenth,” Charlie said. “I used to work there as a busboy. I mean, I didn’t get fired or anything. I just. . . uh. . . They said I could come back if I’m better — when I get better, I mean. I don’t want to be negative and stuff.”
Charlie nodded.
“What happened?” the District Attorney asked.
“I was walking to the bus,” Charlie said. “I used to take the Colfax bus — you know, the 15 — because it runs all the time. I. . .”
Charlie glanced at the Judge and then back at the District Attorney, who nodded.
“Go ahead, Charlie,” the Judge said.
“Well, I don’t remember very good,” Charlie said. “I mean, well. I don’t remember very well. Because. . . I just don’t. I. . . um. . . remember walking up Fifteenth Street. Um. . .”
“What happened, Charlie?” the District Attorney asked.
“Oh, I got beaten up,” Charlie said. “Some guys with baseball bats and stuff jumped me. I thought they were going to kill me. They almost did.”
Charlie glanced at the Judge.
“I saw my dad,” Charlie said. “When I was in the hospital, you know.”
The District Attorney didn’t move, and the court was silent for a moment.
“They were trying to make sure I didn’t testify,” Charlie said. “They got the idea that I was lying about all the stuff I saw — with the rapes, I mean. They were told that I was lying to get their brothers in trouble because they were Black — I mean, African-American.”
Charlie nodded.
“Objection,” the Defense Attorney said. “Assumption.”
“How do you know what they thought, Charlie?” the Judge asked.
“Oh, they told me,” Charlie said with a nod. “Dr. Bumpy set up this thing called ‘Restorative Justice.’”
“Overruled,” the Judge said to the Defense Attorney.
“Can you explain that to the court, Charlie?” the District Attorney asked in an attempt to regain control.
“Oh, I don’t know a lot about it,” Charlie said.
“What did you do?” the District Attorney asked.
“Um, Dr. Bumpy. . .” Charlie started.
“Let the record show that Dr. Bumpy is Dr. Bumpy Wilson,” the District Attorney said.
“So noted,” the Judge said. “Go ahead, Charlie.”
“Dr. Bumpy set up a meeting for me and the guys who beat me up,” Charlie said. “It was pretty cool. We sat at a table and talked. They told me what they knew. I told them what I knew. My friend, Dale, and my Godfather, Seth O’Malley, were with me. Sandy came, too, but having a woman there made it different. So she left. Um, Sandy’s kind of my sister and my mother.”
Charlie looked at the jury and swallowed hard.
“We were there for like three days. But. . . Uh. It was nice, felt really good,” he added.
“And did you go to trial?” the District Attorney asked.
“No,” Charlie said. “We agreed to a sentence and then presented it to you. You agreed to what we decided if I agreed, which I already had.”
“And what was their sentence?” the District Attorney asked.
“The guys have to help me pay for the medical bills and something called ‘restitution.’ I don’t know what that is. They have to pay a bunch of fines and stuff. I don’t know how much. They also agreed to volunteer to help homeless kids and other disadvantaged boys. They have to do a whole bunch of hours, but they’ve already started. They’re not bad guys. They just got mad. And if they don’t beat anyone up for. . . I don’t remember how long. . .”
“Five years,” the District Attorney said.
“Then it all goes away,” Charlie said.
“And that’s okay for you?” the District Attorney asked.
“Sure,” Charlie said. “Jeez, I’ve made mistakes and done stupid stuff before. They were really revved up on the idea that I was going to hurt their little brothers. If someone was going to destroy Nash’s life, um, my step-brother, I don’t know what I’d do. Of course, if I’d died, I probably wouldn’t feel that way, you know.”
The District Attorney shot Charlie a grin.
“Do you have any idea who might have told these men that you were going after the boys because they were African-Americans?” the District Attorney asked.
“Sure,” Charlie pointed to the third attorney at the far end of the defense table. “That guy. David Wodes.”
The Defense Attorney was on his feet. Before he could say anything, the District Attorney asked a fast question.
“And you know this because. . .” the District Attorney asked.
“Oh, the guys who beat me up told me,” Charlie said. “It’s kind of a big deal. Something called the ‘Bar’ — but not like a drinking bar, you know, something else — is holding a trial, and there’s a criminal case against that guy. I have to testify in both of those.”
The court was silent for a moment.
“I was surprised when I saw him just sitting there,” Charlie said.
“We’d lik
e to submit into evidence the record of the Restorative Justice session between Charlie and his attackers,” the District Attorney said.
The Judge looked at the document before looking up.
“We need time to look through this document,” the Judge said. “I’m going to dismiss us for the day. Charlie, you know what you have to do, right?”
“I can’t talk to anyone,” Charlie said. “That’s okay because this is a big deal for all of my friends. We take it really serious — I mean, seriously.”
“Good,” the Judge said. “Court is adjourned. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning.”
~~~~~~~~
Wednesday night — 8:40 p.m.
“So how was it?” Sandy asked from behind Sissy’s wheelchair as they left the Ellie Caulkins Opera House.
They left the Opera House and started down the glass-covered open walkway toward 14th Street, where Jill was going to pick them up with her big SUV. Aden pushed Ivan’s wheelchair behind them. Sandy whizzed far enough ahead so that Sissy could speak without the men hearing.
“Did you see all of those girls?” Sissy said in a sad voice.
“I did,” Sandy said.
“His ex-girlfriends,” Sissy said.
“Glad they didn’t have knives,” Sandy said.
“Right,” Sissy said. “What did Janine say to you?”
“She said that it was hard to believe that Ivan wasn’t using the wheelchair as a joke,” Sandy said.
“Oh,” Sissy said. “Yeah, it is weird.”
“Does it bother you?” Sandy asked. “The girls.”
“Um. . .” Sissy said.
Sandy put her hand on Sissy’s shoulder for support.
“They are so beautiful,” Sissy said. “And. . . they can. . .”
“Dance,” Sandy said.
“Yeah,” Sissy said. “I felt. . .”
Sandy leaned over so she could see Sissy’s face. She kissed her sister’s cheek.
“You’ll be dancing soon enough,” Sandy said.
“It was so beautiful,” Sissy said. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful than ballet?”
Sandy grinned as Sissy sighed. Sandy waited for Sissy to say what she always said.
“Someday, I’m going to. . .” Sissy started.
She stopped talking. Sandy pushed Sissy to the side of the building. She went around to the front of the wheelchair. Sissy’s eyes were vague. When she saw Sandy, her eyebrows furrowed.
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