by John Grisham
“I don’t think so. As far as I know, they haven’t caught the right people.”
“Do they still suspect you, Theo?”
“As of last Friday, I was their main suspect.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
Theo thought about Ike’s advice, readjusted himself in the chair, cleared his throat, emitted an “Uh,” and gave the clear impression that what he was about to say was not easy. “Mrs. Gladwell, if you knew a student here, a seventh grader, had a cell phone on campus, what would you do?”
She leaned back in her chair and chewed the end of her pen. “Well, I would talk to his or her homeroom teacher, ask her to approach the student, and if he or she had a phone, then we would confiscate it. The normal punishment is a half-day suspension, in school. Why do you ask this, Theo?”
“Just curious.”
“No, you’re not just curious. You know a seventh grader who brings a cell phone to school, don’t you, Theo?”
“Maybe.”
She stared at him for a long time, then began to figure it out. “Could this cell phone be stolen?” she asked.
Theo nodded and said, “Could be. Not sure, but it could be.”
“I see. And could this stolen phone be linked to the break-in at Big Mac’s last week?”
Theo nodded slightly and said, “Could be. I don’t know for sure, and I’m not accusing anyone of the theft.”
“The break-in is one thing, Theo, and it’s really none of my business. The police are in charge of that. But the possession of a cell phone by a seventh grader is a violation of the rules here, on my turf. Let’s deal with that first.”
Theo stared at her but said nothing.
Another long pause. Mrs. Gladwell waited, and waited. She finally looked at her watch and said, “Okay, if you want me to help you, give me the name. If not, it’s Monday morning and I have a thousand things to do.”
“I feel like a snitch,” Theo said.
“First of all, Theo, he or she will never know you told me. Second, and much more important, you’re the prime suspect in a crime that someone else committed. If I were you, I would do everything I could to find the real criminal. Now give me the name or go to homeroom.”
Trying to appear reluctant, Theo said, “Jonah Finn.”
Ike had said he had no choice but to deliver the criminal.
The 8:50 bell rang for first period, and Mr. Krauthammer dismissed his seventh-grade homeroom. As the boys were filing out of the room, he took a few steps toward the desks, placed his hands on the shoulder of Jonah Finn, and said, “Could I see you a minute?”
When the room was empty, Mr. Krauthammer closed the door, and said, “Did I see you with a cell phone in the hall about ten minutes ago?” He, in fact, did not, but this was part of the strategy.
“No,” Jonah snapped. He took a step back and looked thoroughly guilty.
“What’s in your pockets?” Mr. Krauthammer asked, stepping toward him.
Jonah reluctantly removed a cell phone and handed it over. A half-day suspension would not bother him. He had seen worse. Mr. Krauthammer looked at the phone, an Excell 7 SmartPhone, and said, “Very nice. Come with me.”
After a brief meeting with Mrs. Gladwell, Jonah was taken to a small study room in the library where he would be confined for the next four hours, under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Dunleavy, the librarian. His books were placed on a study table as if he were expected to plow through some extra homework as part of his punishment. Instead, Jonah put his head on the table and promptly went to sleep.
Mrs. Gladwell called Detective Vorman and gave him the registration number of the cell phone.
At Strattenburg High School, second period ended at 10:30 and was followed by a twenty-minute break. Tony Lambert, Woody’s brother, tracked Jessie Finn from a distance and watched as he left the main building and walked into the large open courtyard where many of the students killed time on break and during lunch. Jessie sat by himself at a picnic table and was about to check his cell phone when Tony came out of nowhere.
“Hey, man, I hear you got some 0–4 Tablets for a good price,” Tony said, glancing around as if a drug deal was in process.
Jessie eyed him suspiciously and said, “Who are you?”
“Tony Lambert, tenth grade,” he replied, shoving a hand forward. Jessie shook it reluctantly and asked, “Oh yeah, where did you hear that?”
“Word gets around. How much are you asking?”
“For what?”
“For an 0–4. I got fifty bucks.”
“Who told you I was selling something?”
“Come on, Jessie, word gets around. I really want that tablet.”
“I don’t have anything, man. I’ve already sold it.”
“Can you get another one?”
“Maybe, but the price has gone up. Seventy-five bucks.”
“I can get seventy-five. When can you get the tablet?”
“Here, tomorrow. Same time, same place.”
“You got it.”
They shook hands and Tony left. He walked inside the main building and sent a text to Woody. No deal, maybe tomorrow.
Theo’s Monday morning had been uneventful. During homeroom, Mr. Mount made a big deal out of welcoming him and Woody back to school, and there were some smart comments from his classmates. Most, though, seemed to be proud of their two buddies for not being afraid to take a stand. In first period Spanish, Madame Monique asked Theo how he was doing and seemed a little too concerned about him. He brushed it off and said everything was fine. In second period Geometry, Mrs. Garman acted as though nothing had happened, which suited Theo just fine. During the morning break, April informed Theo that Rodney had passed along the news that Jonah Finn had been in homeroom, but then disappeared. Rodney did not know where he was.
While Jonah was napping in the library study room, Detective Vorman arrived at the school and met with Mrs. Gladwell. The two of them casually walked to a row of seventh-grade lockers, not far from Theo’s, and she punched in the code for Jonah’s. Inside they found the usual assortment of textbooks, notebooks, supplies, and junk. Hidden in a three-ring binder were two brand-new Linx 0–4 Tablets. They took them back to her office where Detective Vorman, using rubber gloves, removed the back panels and wrote down the registration numbers. They then returned to Jonah’s locker and carefully replaced the tablets in the three-ring binder.
Detective Vorman thanked Mrs. Gladwell, left the school, and went to his desk at the police station where he checked the registration numbers against the list from Big Mac’s System. Not surprisingly, they matched. He reported his findings to Detective Hamilton, and they decided to get a search warrant for the Finn home. Vorman filled in the blanks of a standard affidavit, a sworn written statement, and set forth the details of what he had found. He also included a statement that the subject’s brother, Jessie Finn, had “allegedly” attempted to sell a Linx 0–4 Tablet to a classmate the previous week. Once the affidavit was completed and signed by Detective Vorman, he prepared a two-page search warrant in which he described the area he wished to search-the Finn home and its outbuildings. With his paperwork done, he walked four blocks down Main Street to the courthouse and left the affidavit and search warrant with the secretary for Judge Daniel Showalter, Youth Court, Division 1. The secretary informed him that the judge was in the middle of a hearing, and it might be two hours before he could review the affidavit and search warrant.
Detective Vorman walked back to his office, confident he had solved another crime, though a rather small one. He would have preferred to spend his time chasing drug dealers and serious criminals.
Chapter 23
At 3:15 Monday afternoon, Detective Vorman arrived at the school and went to Mrs. Gladwell’s office. He waited as she walked to a classroom on the second floor and pulled Jonah Finn out of last period study hall. Jonah, who had already endured a half-day suspension, mumbled, “What’s the matter now?” as he followed her from the room.
&nbs
p; “Just follow me,” she said, and the two walked without a word back to her office. They waited in the reception area by Miss Gloria’s desk as the last bell rang and the students rushed out of the building. During the chaos of dismissal, Jonah and Mrs. Gladwell stepped into her office and closed the door. Vorman stood, flashed a badge, and said, “Are you Jonah Finn?”
He replied, “Yes.” He looked at Mrs. Gladwell for help.
“Have a seat,” Vorman said. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Maybe.”
Jonah sat down and put his backpack in his lap. He was obviously frightened and not sure what to do or say.
Vorman sat on the edge of the desk and looked down at Jonah. It was not a fair fight. A tough cop in a dark suit and a frightful scowl glaring down at a scared, skinny kid with bangs in his eyes. Vorman knew exactly where the conversation was going; Jonah wasn’t so sure.
The detective began: “We’re investigating a burglary that happened last week at a computer store downtown, Big Mac’s Systems, and I just have a few routine questions. That’s all.”
Jonah took a deep breath, almost gasped, and dropped his head. He stared at the floor, his mouth open in shock. Vorman had never seen a guiltier face. “That cell phone you got busted with this morning, where did you get it?”
“Uh, I bought it.”
Vorman opened his notepad, licked his pen, and asked, “Okay, who’d you buy it from?”
“Uh, some guy named Randy.”
Vorman scribbled on his notepad and asked, “How much did you pay for it?”
“Uh, fifty dollars.”
“The phone was stolen from Big Mac’s. Did you know it was stolen when you bought it?”
“No, sir, I swear.”
“What’s Randy’s last name?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
“Do you know where he lives? Where I can find him and go talk to him?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, so this mysterious guy Randy just pops up and offers to sell you a brand-new SmartPhone for fifty bucks, one that’s valued at three hundred, and you don’t think it might be stolen?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s not too smart on your part, is it?”
“I guess not.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No, sir.”
“If you lie to me, Jonah, things will only get much worse.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I think you are.”
Jonah shook his head, his bangs flopping in his eyes.
Vorman had spent years questioning tough criminals, men who could tell great lies with sincere faces. This kid was nowhere close to being believable. “The thief, or thieves, who broke into Big Mac’s also took some tablets and laptops. Did Randy offer to sell you a brand-new tablet or laptop?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever seen a Linx 0–4 Tablet?”
Jonah shook his head, his eyes still watching the floor.
“You know the school has the right to inspect your backpack and your locker,” Vorman said, moving in for the kill. “Do you understand that?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Let’s take a look inside your backpack.”
“What are you looking for?” Jonah asked.
“More stolen goods.” Vorman reached for the backpack. Jonah clutched it for a second, then let go. Vorman placed it on Mrs. Gladwell’s desk and slowly unzipped it. He removed textbooks, notebooks, a video game magazine, and then a tablet. A Linx 0–4. He held it up, examined it, and said, “Jonah, you lied to me. Where did this come from?”
Jonah leaned forward and placed both elbows on both knees, his head hanging low.
Vorman pressed on: “Jonah where did you get this? Did your brother give it to you?”
No response.
“Okay, let’s go have a look inside your locker.”
At about the same time, a mile away at the high school, Detective Hamilton introduced himself to Jessie Finn. They were in the principal’s office, a few minutes after the final bell. Jessie’s backpack was on the desk, unopened.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Hamilton began with a friendly smile. The principal, Mr. Trussel, was sitting at his desk, watching.
“About what?” Jessie asked with a sneer. He had been through the Youth Court system once and didn’t like cops, or judges, or even lawyers for that matter.
“Do you have a brother named Jonah?”
“That’s an easy question.”
“Then answer it.”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. We have Jonah in custody right now, caught him with a stolen Excell 7 SmartPhone and three Linx 0-4s, one in his backpack, the other two still in boxes in his locker. Any idea where he got them?”
Jessie flinched, though he tried to seem unmoved. The color drained from his face and it was pale. He shook his head, no.
“Didn’t think so,” Hamilton said. “We checked the registration numbers and we know where they came from. Do you Jessie?”
“No.”
“Well, Jessie, at this moment your little brother is one scared boy. He’s talking, singing like a bird, and he says that breaking into Big Mac’s was all your idea, says he didn’t want to do it, but you pressured him because you needed some help in hauling away all of the laptops, cell phones, and tablets. What do you think about that, Jessie? He’s not a very tough kid, is he? I mean, he’s your brother and he began ratting on you before we could even put the handcuffs on him.”
“Handcuffs?” Jessie said with a dry, husky voice, his face confused and scared.
“Yep, and I’ve got a pair for you, too. Just hang on. Your little brother says that you two broke into the store through a back window last Tuesday night and took about a dozen cell phones, six fifteen-inch laptops, and ten Linx 0–4 Tablets. Says you guys were in the store less than five minutes because you had scoped out the place and knew where things were, plus you knew how to dodge the security cameras. Any of this ring a bell, Jessie?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do. Can I look inside your backpack?”
“Go right ahead,” Jessie said, and shoved it at him. Hamilton unzipped it and slowly removed books, notebooks, a water bottle, a couple of magazines, nothing that appeared to be stolen. Hamilton shrugged and stuffed all of it back into the backpack. “Let’s go take a look at your locker.”
“You can’t do that,” Jessie said.
“Oh really? Why not?”
“It’s a violation of my privacy.”
“Not so fast, Jessie,” Mr. Trussel said as he lifted a piece of paper. “This is a locker rental agreement you signed for the academic year. We don’t require our students to use a locker, but when they choose to do so, they must sign this agreement. This clearly states that you must submit to a search of your locker when asked to do so by the school or the police.”
“Let’s go,” said Detective Hamilton.
Back at the middle school, Detective Vorman and Mrs. Gladwell returned to her office, along with Jonah, who looked as though he was ready to cry. On her desk were the same two tablets she and Vorman had taken from Jonah’s locker earlier in the day.
Vorman said, “We have your brother in custody over at the high school, and he’s saying it was your idea to plant the three Linx Tablets in the locker of Theodore Boone. He’s saying you hacked into the school’s files, got the entry number, and placed the tablets there last Wednesday morning in an effort to frame Theo for the crime. True or false?”
“Jessie said that?”
“Oh yes, and plenty more. Right now he’s sitting in a small room at the high school, in handcuffs, telling the entire story. Pretty sad, if you ask me, to rat out your little brother like this, but that’s what happens when you do stupid things with an accomplice.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t car
e what you believe, son. You’re in more trouble than you can possibly imagine. You’re looking at breaking and entering, felony theft, stalking, conspiracy, vandalism. Your brother even says you slashed Theo’s bike tires and tossed the rock through his office window.”
“No! He did that!” Jonah blurted, then caught himself. He held his breath as he stared at the detective, who just smiled. In the heat of the battle, the kid had made a crucial admission. Vorman looked at Mrs. Gladwell. Both smiled. The mystery had been solved.
Back at the high school, the contents of Jessie’s locker were stacked neatly on the floor of the hallway. Detective Hamilton, wearing surgical gloves, gently removed the last items-two Linx 0–4 Tablets. “Gee, I wonder where these came from,” he said with a smile. “Jonah said we would probably find them here. Let me guess, Jessie, you have no idea how these shiny new things made their way into your locker, right?”
Jessie said nothing.
They stepped into an empty classroom and Mr. Trussel closed the door. “Sit there,” Hamilton barked at Jessie as he pointed to a desk. Jessie did as he was told. There was no fight left in him.
“What I want at this point,” Hamilton said as he hovered over Jessie, as if he might begin slapping him at any second, “is the rest of the stolen goods. Where are they?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jessie said feebly. His hands were clenched together on the desk and he stared at them.
Hamilton reached into a pocket and pulled out some papers. “You’re a real smart kid, aren’t you, Jessie? So tell me, what is a search warrant?”
Jessie shook his head.
“You don’t know? Maybe you’re not that bright after all.”
Jessie shook his head.
“A search warrant allows the police to go into your house and search every room, every drawer, cabinet, closet, box, bag, every pile of junk in the attic, and every piece of old furniture in the garage. It allows us to turn your house upside down looking for the rest of the stuff you and your little brother stole from Big Mac’s.” Hamilton dropped his search warrant on the desk and it landed on Jessie’s arms. He made no effort to read it.
“Is your mother at home, Jessie?” Hamilton asked.
