Fort Collins

by Christian, Claudia Hall

The Judge nodded.

  “Why didn’t you call them beforehand?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “My brother asked me the same thing when he found out I was there,” Frankie said. He shrugged. “It sounds stupid but I didn’t think about calling the cops beforehand. I usually tried to make sure this kid — I mean, now I know he’s Charlie. I tried to make sure he knew where we were going to be.”

  “Why?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “Because he helped the. . . um. . . victims,” Frankie said.

  “So you took these video recordings,” the Deputy District Attorney said. “What happened next?”

  “I would compress them and give them to the Boss,” Frankie said. “I don’t know what happened to them after that.”

  “Did the defendant ever pay you for the recordings?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “No,” Frankie said.

  “Did the defendant ever give you things?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “Things?” Frankie asked.

  “Computers, games, drugs. . .”

  “No,” Frankie said. “He only gave me shit. All the time. And, me? I was either trying to kill myself, in school, or getting crap from the Boss. I would cry for days after it happened. I tried to stop, you know, videotaping that. . . stuff, but the Boss was clear. The only way out was death. I tried to kill myself, but I was too much of a failure to even be able to kill myself right.”

  Frankie shrugged. The courtroom went silent.

  “How did you get out of it?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “They tried to beat up Wanda,” Frankie said. “She called me and. . . I hadn’t talked to her. . . I mean the last time I’d talked to her, she was Wade! Then she screamed my name and. . . I went to help. Of course. Her dad showed up and took care of the guys trying to hurt Wanda. Then we followed them and got into the big rumble later.”

  “Thank you, Frankie,” the Deputy District Attorney said. She looked at the Judge. “No further questions at this time. We reserve the right to recall the witness.”

  The Judge banged the gavel. Frankie braced himself for the defense. Without being asked, the lead Defense Attorney hopped to his feet.

  “Just to be clear,” the lead Defense Attorney said. “You got a deal from the DA. Would you care to share what they gave you?”

  “You mean sentence?” Frankie asked.

  “Yes,” the lead Defense Attorney said.

  “I spent some time in Juvie, and now I’m at Denver Children’s Home,” Frankie said. “I get evaluated every month. If I’m not participating, I go back to Juvie. Depending on how I am when I get done, then I either go to Juvie or I get out. If I screw up, anything in the next five years, I go to prison. Period.”

  “So you got some therapy,” the lead Defense Attorney said with a sneer. “After what you’ve done? That’s pretty easy.”

  “If you think it’s easy, you haven’t been there,” Frankie said. “And anyway, it wasn’t the DA. It was Doc Bumpy helped me. He had records about everything that happened and all my suicides and even the stuff with my step-dad.”

  “Why are you testifying then?” the lead Defense Attorney asked.

  “It’s the least I can do,” Frankie said. “That guy’s a monster, a true monster. Not just for what he does to girls and guys — victims — but what he does to get the guys to do all this violence.”

  The lead Defense Attorney opened his mouth to say something, but Frankie interrupted.

  “I’ve been to every family to apologize and ask if there’s something I can do,” Frankie said. “Wanda’s dad takes me and stays with me. They all say they feel better when I leave.”

  “But you ruined your brother’s career,” the lead Defense Attorney said.

  “Is there a point here?” the Judge asked.

  “Your honor,” the lead Defense Attorney said. “Some large portion of this crime revolves around the videotapes and income made from these tapes. This young man set up these violent situations so that he could take videos. He states that he gave the videos to my client, but the truth is that he sold the videos for profit.”

  Frankie was so floored that his mouth fell open.

  “He is the only person who stood to profit from these acts,” the lead Defense Attorney said. “You are looking at the ringleader, the only person who stood to profit from these horrific crimes.”

  Frankie shook his head.

  “Where’s the money?” Frankie asked.

  “How should we know?” the lead Defense Attorney asked in a mock bewildered tone.

  “Objection,” the District Attorney said. “The defense is making wild innuendo. Are we making up stories here or interviewing a witness?”

  “Do you have any evidence to back your claims, Counselor?” the Judge said.

  “His brother is a police detective,” the lead Defense Attorney said. “Any evidence was destroyed by his brother.”

  “Do you have evidence that backs up your assertion?” the Judge asked.

  “It’s not my place to do the Prosecution’s work for them,” the lead Defense Attorney said.

  The Judge looked at the lead Defense Attorney for a moment and banged his gavel.

  “Next witness,” the Judge said.

  Samantha Hargreaves jumped to her feet. She helped Frankie down from the witness stand. They followed Frankie’s mother, Wanda, and her father out of the courtroom. Frankie waited for the door to close before turning to Samantha.

  “What was that?” Frankie asked.

  “All he has to do is create a reasonable doubt that his client didn’t do what he’s charged with,” Samantha said. “Saying you did it can create doubt in the jury’s mind.”

  “Did it?” Frankie asked.

  Samantha shook her head. Imitating her movement, Frankie shook his head too.

  “If you’re all right, I should go back,” Samantha said.

  Frankie nodded. He watched two uniformed police officers walk toward the courtroom with his brother. Frankie’s older brother raised a hand in hello. Frankie ran to his brother, and the brothers hugged each other until the police officers dragged Frankie away.

  “Don’t talk about the trial,” Samantha said to Frankie and his brother.

  His brother nodded to Samantha.

  “We won’t,” Wanda said. She gave Frankie a confident smile, and he nodded. They watched Frankie’s brother head into the courtroom.

  “How ’bout brunch?” Erik, Wanda’s father, asked. “My treat.”

  Frankie nodded. He put his arm around Wanda, and they walked out of the courthouse. Standing in front of the courthouse, Frankie looked up at the deep blue sky. For better or worse, the thing he’d dreaded most was over. He smiled at his mother.

  “Can we get burgers?” Frankie asked with a smile.

  “Cheeseburgers,” Wanda said.

  “Oh, that sounds good,” Frankie’s mother said.

  “And fries,” Frankie said.

  “A man after my own heart,” Erik said. “Come on, I parked over here.”

  Frankie took Wanda’s hand and followed her father to lunch.

  Chapter Three Hundred and Eighty-five

  Enough is enough

  Monday mid-morning — 11:35 a.m.

  New York City, New York

  “Here we go,” Schmidty said.

  Sissy glanced at Schmidty before stepping through the door he was holding open. Schmidty was maybe ten or eleven years older — she wasn’t sure which — than she was. In those years, he’d made a happy life for himself. In this single glance, Sissy felt the distance between where she was now and what she wanted for her life.

  Right now, her life was a mess. All of her hopes and dreams had come crashing down onto the sidewalk in front of Bestat Behur’s apartment. Every dream had ended the moment the bullets had barreled through her rib cage. Sissy felt the yawning empty space where her certainty about the future had once lived. The space wasn’t filled with panic o
r despair or even worry. It was unnervingly empty, silent, and dark as if her plans for her life had simply evaporated without a trace.

  Sissy hadn’t counted on the bullets. She hadn’t counted on Ivan, either.

  And now, the ballet company wanted a chance to “speak to” Sissy.

  Stepping into the building was like stepping in to that empty space. She wondered where her foot — and her life — would land.

  “This way,” Schmidty said. “We’re meeting in the administration office.”

  “How do you know?” Sissy asked.

  “I was here this morning,” Schmidty said. He took her elbow and leaned near her ear, “You didn’t think that I would let Ivan come here by himself, did you?”

  Surprised, Sissy looked up at Schmidty. He gave her a confident wink. They went into the administration office. Schmidty announced that he had arrived with “Ms. Delgado,” and the woman behind the desk disappeared into the back.

  “Your party is waiting in here,” the receptionist said when she returned.

  Sissy looked at Schmidty. He kept her close to him as they followed the woman through what felt like a maze of hallways. Down the hallway, Sissy could see into a small room ahead of them. She saw the side of Otis’s face through the door. He was standing next to a small woman standing with her back to the door. The woman had her hair in a tight blond bun, wearing an expensive suit, and high heels. Facing the door, Seth saw Sissy first. Seth gave Sissy a big smile and touched the arm of blond-bun woman. Ivan sat nearest to the door with his head in his hands. A complete opposite of this morning, he looked exhausted and in pain.

  Ivan must have felt her nearby, because he looked down the hallway at her. His face shifted from ashen exhaustion to sheer joy. He hopped to his feet and seemed to immediately regret it. He folded for the briefest second before moving to her. They stood in front of each other for a moment before she put her arms out. He held her tight.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said in her ear.

  “To every life a little bullshit must fall,” Sissy said.

  Ivan laughed and pulled away. When he stepped back, Sissy saw that everyone was looking at her. Blond-bun had turned to look. In this light, she looked so much like Seth that Sissy wasn’t sure who this blond-bun could be. Then the woman smiled.

  “Sandy!” Sissy said.

  She skipped forward to hug her sister.

  “What are you doing here?” Sissy asked.

  “After you left, Delphie told me that I should come,” Sandy said. “I flew in with MJ, Honey, and Dale.”

  “But. . .” Sissy waved her hand in front of Sandy to indicate her expensive clothing.

  Sandy leaned forward.

  “Bestat,” Sandy said. “She left the outfit for me. Pretty amazing, huh?”

  “Grown up!” Sissy said with a smile and a nod.

  Sissy turned to greet Otis and his girlfriend, Mari. Seth gave her a hug.

  “Wow,” Sissy said. “You’re all here.”

  Ivan put his arm around Sissy’s waist. Everyone smiled at Sissy.

  “Why are you all here?” Sissy asked.

  Everyone opened their mouths to speak, but Otis beat them to the punch.

  “Is time to end this, once and for all,” Otis said with a nod.

  The other adults nodded.

  “You either stay here, or we take you back on the market,” Schmidty said.

  “What does that mean?” Sissy asked. Her eyes flitted from one face to the next before settling on Seth’s.

  “If this ballet company wishes to keep you, that’s great,” Seth said. “They just need to decide. Today. Because this has gone on too long.”

  “But what if they don’t?” Sissy asked.

  She turned to face Ivan. He gave her a soft smile and nodded to Schmidty.

  “Then we go to one of the seven ballet companies that have already contacted me,” Schmidty said. “Including Denver Ballet Company. Everyone has heard about the little ballerina who was shot by some very bad men. You are in demand.”

  “And Ivan?” Sissy asked.

  “Ivan is always in demand,” Schmidty said.

  “But no one wanted me before,” Sissy said.

  “Things change,” Seth said with a shrug.

  Sissy knew there was more to it than that, but she knew better than to press the topic in public. Her eyes flicked to Sandy, who nodded that she would tell Sissy everything later. Sissy smiled.

  “Ms. Delgado?” the woman from the front asked from the front of the room. “Would you follow me?”

  Sissy started out the door. Schmidty appeared at her side.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Schmidty,” the woman said. “We only wish to speak with Ms. Delgado.”

  “As Ms. Delgado’s representative, you cannot. . .” Schmidty started.

  “I’m afraid they only wish to speak with Ms. Delgado,” the woman said. “Of course, if Ms. Delgado’s parents were. . .”

  Sandy moved to Sissy’s side. Seth stepped behind her.

  “We are Sissy’s guardians,” Sandy said.

  Surprised, the woman looked from Sandy to Seth. Schmidty took a sheet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and gave it to the woman. She read the paper.

  “You’re Sandra Delgado?” the woman asked.

  “I am,” Sandy said with a smile.

  The woman paused for a moment before giving a tiny shrug. She spun in place and started down the hallway. Seth held onto Sissy’s shoulder for a moment.

  “No need to rush,” Seth said in a low tone.

  “But she’s. . .” Sissy whispered.

  “Don’t let them set the tone,” Schmidty said. He patted Seth on the back. “If you’re not out in an hour, I’ll come to get you.”

  Seth nodded to Schmidty, and they went to follow the woman. By this time, she had stopped to wait for them a few feet ahead. They reached the room a few minutes later.

  “Here we go,” Sissy said under her breath.

  They entered the room.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Monday morning — 10:02 a.m.

  Denver, Colorado

  “My name?” Noelle blinked at the Deputy District Attorney. “Why, I’m Noelle Norsen. Most people call me, ‘Noelle.’ I go by my last name, ‘Norsen,’ for my art.”

  Noelle scowled at the Deputy District Attorney.

  “Didn’t that guy just say my name to call me up here?” Noelle asked.

  “It’s just procedure,” the Judge said, as he suppressed a grin.

  “Oh,” Noelle said. She gave a curt nod. “That’s who I am.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “You called my school and told me I had to be here?” Noelle asked. She gestured to her uniform. “This is my new school uniform. Today was my first day at the new school building. It’s not a new school or anything. And it’s not a new building. It’s a really, really old building that got fixed up, and now my school is there.”

  The Deputy District Attorney turned away from the jury to suppress a grin.

  “I don’t mean to be sassy,” Noelle said. “Am I being sassy?”

  “You’re fine,” the Judge said to Noelle before turning to the Deputy District Attorney. “Can we get on with this so that ‘Norsen’ here can get back to school?”

  “Yes, Judge,” the Deputy District Attorney said. “I wondered if you could tell us about what happened in the park the day you went to paint your boyfriend’s step-mother.”

  “Oh,” Noelle said.

  Her happy face dropped. She looked at the Deputy District Attorney before looking out into the audience to see her father, Aden, and Delphie.

  “I guess I have to,” Noelle said. She scowled and nodded to the Deputy District Attorney. “Go ahead. Ask your questions. I’ll behave.”

  “First, can you tell us about your painting?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “I paint things,” Noelle said. “I used to just draw stuff. I mean, my dad raise
d me and my brother. We spent a lot of time at daycare and stuff. I drew pictures there to pass the time. Turns out, I’m pretty good. Then, a couple years ago, we moved into the Castle, um, a big house, where Mike Roper lives. He’s a master painter, really amazing, and famous, too. Most people don’t know that he’s a famous artist, more famous even than his wife, Valerie Lipson. And she’s an actress! Anyway, he took me under his wing, and I’ve been learning about painting.”

  The Deputy District Attorney turned away.

  “Oh, and I went to an art school in New York for a month or so,” Noelle said. “Until someone tried to kill me and Sissy. Um. . . Sandy is my Mom — she’s not my birth mom, she’s my step-mom, but I call her ‘Mom’ because my mom is in prison. Anyway, Sissy is my Mom’s little sister. Her mom’s in prison, too. Sissy’s an amazing ballerina. She’s a couple years, well four years, older than me. We’re like sisters. She got shot. Twice. Boom. Boom. Right on the sidewalk!”

  Noelle nodded and licked her lips. Thinking Noelle was taking a break from talking, the Deputy District Attorney opened her mouth.

  “And died! Like dead. Right on the sidewalk in front of me,” Noelle said. “And she would have died if MJ hadn’t saved her. He does medicine in the military. And I would have died, too! Except MJ picked me up, and the bullets went into his clothes. He has bulletproof clothes. I didn’t even know they existed — bulletproof clothes, you know — until he used them to keep me from being shot and maybe dying on the sidewalk like Sissy did.”

  The Deputy District Attorney gave a quick shake of her head to clear her ears. She glanced at the Judge and he nodded for her to continue.

  “Why would someone try to kill you?” the Deputy District Attorney asked.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Noelle said. “That guy over there and the creepy jerk who financed the websites and stuff — they wanted to kill me so I couldn’t testify in this very trial! Like I am today! But. . .”

  Noelle looked at the defendant and smiled.

  “I guess that didn’t work out very well for you, did it?” Noelle asked as she smoothed out the pleats in her skirt.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Monday midday — 12:02 p.m.

  New York City, New York