by John Grisham
Ike wanted to know how they filmed it, and Theo told the story in great detail. He took credit for the smoke bomb idea, and he gave credit to Hardie for the yellow surgical masks. Ike loved the idea of including Judge, but made the observation that the dog looked fairly miserable with a mask.
They laughed for almost half an hour before Theo had to go. Neither thought of mentioning the secret information Theo had found in Joe Ford’s file. Theo certainly had not forgotten it; he just didn’t know what to do with it.
* * *
After the lunch break on Tuesday, Mrs. Gladwell, the principal, sent word to Theo that he was needed in the office. When Theo arrived, he saw Norris Flay of the Gazette waiting with his usual smirking smile. Flay had the habit of always looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair a mess. He seldom shaved. Theo had seen homeless people downtown put together better than Flay.
“He says he wants to talk to you, Theo,” Mrs. Gladwell said. They were standing in her office.
“We know each other,” Theo said, eyeing Flay suspiciously.
“I’m working on a story about the video, Theo,” Flay said. “It’s a nice story, and I’d like to talk to you and your friends, the kids who made the video. It’s kinda gone viral, don’t you think? Ten thousand hits in the first thirty-six hours.”
“It’s doing okay,” Theo said.
“It has created quite a buzz and that makes it news. That’s why I’m here.”
Norris Flay was everywhere, always sniffing around for some dirt, and occasionally for a good story. “What do you think, Mrs. Gladwell?” Theo asked.
“If I were you, Theo, I’d check with my parents.”
“Good idea.”
Theo stepped outside and called his mother. Mrs. Boone felt strongly that Theo had already received more than his share of attention in this matter. But, on the other hand, a rowdy fight led by a bunch of schoolchildren might turn the tide against the bypass. She cautioned Theo to watch his words, specifically not to use such favorites as “thugs” and “crooks.” She also advised him to avoid answering any questions about the smoke bombs.
After school, Theo, Hardie, Woody, Chase, and April met with Norris Flay in an empty classroom, with Mr. Mount in attendance and listening to every word. Flay was obviously amused by the video—he even claimed to be opposed to the bypass—and asked easy questions. He admired their filmmaking talents, but was equally impressed by their knowledge of the issues. They had done their homework and knew more about the proposed bypass than some of the politicians he had interviewed. Hardie was very effective describing the total destruction of his family’s farm and his grandparents’ way of life. Theo knew more about eminent domain than some of the lawyers Flay had talked to. As always, Flay had his camera and took a few group shots. He couldn’t predict when the story might run but felt like it would be soon.
* * *
At 6:30 the following morning, Theo awoke to his alarm and immediately went online to check the Strattenburg Gazette. He was stunned. The bold front-page headline announced: VIRAL VIDEO SHAKES UP BYPASS FIGHT. Under it were two photos. The first was a color shot from the video with the gang of activists posing at the Jackson Elementary School sign, all faces adorned with yellow masks. Under it was a photo taken by Norris Flay the previous afternoon. Their names were listed beside the bottom photo.
With a knot in his stomach, Theo quickly read the story, praying he had not been misquoted and said something that might get him sued in court. He had not. Flay did a nice job of describing the video, now with over 15,000 hits, and even included the link. He wrote that the video was causing a lot of trouble for the county commissioners, all five of whom were being flooded with angry phone calls, angrier e-mails, and even irate citizens who were showing up at the county offices and demanding face time. Flay had also visited Jackson Elementary and interviewed a few parents. One mother of four claimed to have seventeen registered voters in her extended family and not a single one would ever again vote for any commissioner who voted to approve the bypass. Another mother vowed to remove her two children from the school and pay private tuition. An angry father said he was organizing other families and raising money to hire lawyers to fight the bypass. A kindergarten teacher, name withheld by request, was quoted saying, “I’m shocked at the lack of concern for the safety of our children.”
Not surprisingly, the only commissioner willing to talk was Mr. Mitchell Stak, who seemed as aggressive as ever. He claimed he had not seen the video but called it a “childish stunt” anyway. He welcomed the phone calls, e-mails, letters, and personal visits, saying, “This is what democracy is all about. I believe in the First Amendment, the right to free speech, and I urge all the people in my district to make themselves heard.” He went on to tout the great advantages of the bypass.
Theo mumbled to himself, “And not a single word about your son-in-law making some big bucks if it’s approved.”
There was a soft knock on the door, then it opened. Mrs. Boone eased in and said, “Well, good morning, Theo. Couldn’t wait to see the morning paper, huh?”
Theo smiled. Busted. “Morning, Mom.”
“I made some hot cocoa,” she said, holding two tall cups.
“Thanks, Mom.” She sat beside him on the bed, Judge just inches away and looking for his own hot cocoa, and said, “Nice article, huh?”
“Very nice,” Theo said. “I was nervous.”
“Good. It’s wise to always be nervous around reporters. But Norris Flay did a good job, I thought.”
“Has Dad read it?”
“Oh yes. We’ve been discussing it in the kitchen.”
“Is he upset?”
She patted his knee and said, “No, Theo. Your father and I are both proud. It’s just that, let’s say, we’re concerned that you’re in the middle of a fight that perhaps should not include kids.”
“Oh really, Mom? What about the kids who go to school and play soccer out there? The kids who’ll be forced to breathe the diesel fumes? What about the kids like Hardie, whose family will lose its property and other kids who’ll lose their homes?”
Mrs. Boone took a sip from her cup and smiled at Theo. He was right, and she knew it. Still, he didn’t understand how brutal the game of politics could be when the stakes were so high. “I didn’t stop by to argue, Theo. Let’s just say that your father and I are very protective.”
“I know that, believe me I do.”
There was a long pause as they stared at the floor. After he took a long sip, Theo said, “Mom, the public hearing is next Tuesday. I really want to be there. Is that gonna be okay with you and Dad?”
“Certainly, Theo. I’ll be there, too. I’m opposed to the bypass and I want the commissioners to know it.”
“Awesome, Mom. What about Dad?”
“He’ll probably skip it. He doesn’t like long meetings, you know?”
“Sure.”
She left, and Theo followed her downstairs with Judge. He went through his morning ritual quicker than ever—shower, teeth, braces, clothes, and breakfast.
He couldn’t wait to get to school.
Chapter 26
Late at night, with his bedroom door locked, Theo opened his laptop and began typing the letter. It was a letter he’d been thinking about for days, and though he seriously doubted he would ever mail it, he wanted to write it anyway.
Dear Mitchell Stak:
I have in my possession some papers that clearly show your son-in-law, Stu Malzone, owns 20 percent of a company called Parkin Land Trust. Joe Ford and two other men own the rest of the company. I also have a copy of a legal document called an option, which gives PLT the right to buy two hundred acres from Mr. Walt Beeson near Sweeney Road if the bypass is approved by the commissioners of Stratten County. Looking at these papers, it is very clear your son-in-law stands to make a lot of money from the bypa
ss. This is a gross conflict of interest on your part. I have no way of knowing what Joe Ford has promised you, if anything, but I’m sure the newspaper reporters will have a lot of fun digging through your trash. Here’s the deal: If you vote to approve the bypass next Tuesday night, then I will hand over these papers to Mr. Norris Flay with the Strattenburg Gazette. If you vote against the bypass, then the slimy deal between Joe Ford and your son-in-law will never be mentioned, at least not by me.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Voter
After a lot of research, Theo had learned that it was not against the law to send an anonymous letter. Anyone can use the US mail to send a letter or a package to anyone else without identifying themselves. And, as long as the anonymous letter is not threatening, then the person who sends it cannot be charged with a crime. Assuming, of course, that the person is ever discovered.
Was it against the law to threaten someone? Theo had struggled with this issue for hours. To commit a crime, a person making a threat must have the clear intention and the ability to carry it out. For example, if A threatens to kill B, but says so in a way that is harmless, then there is no criminal act. Likewise, if A threatens to kill B, and really means it, but is a quadriplegic stuck in a wheelchair, then he lacks the ability to carry out his threat. However, if A is dead serious and has the ability to make good on his threat, then the threat becomes a criminal act.
Such arguments were why Theo loved the law.
In the case of Mitchell Stak, though, Theo’s threat of public exposure could not be considered a criminal act even if he were serious and could follow through. Why? Because exposing corruption is far different from killing someone. Exposing corruption is not illegal; murder, of course, still is.
Theo read the letter again and it made him even more nervous. He felt like David staring up at Goliath. Mr. Stak was a powerful politician who’d served on the County Commission for fifteen years, since before Theo was born. Who did Theo think he was, trying to intimidate such a man?
On the other hand, Theo would not get caught, at least not in theory. If he in fact mailed the letter, he would do so in such a way that no one would ever know where it came from. That’s the purpose of anonymous mail, right? The sender gets to hide behind a wall of secrecy. He would use rubber gloves and not lick the stamp. Everything would be typed, nothing handwritten, and he would print the letter at school, where it couldn’t be traced. He would deposit it in a remote postal box, far from security cameras. He was certain he could pull this off.
Still, it did not feel right. It seemed kind of cowardly. There should be a better way to confront a crooked politician than by sneaking around firing off unsigned letters. But after three days of nonstop, hyperactive thinking and scheming, Theo had no other plan.
He turned off his computer, turned off the light, situated Judge at the foot of his bed, and tried to go to sleep. His eyes would not close.
The letter was a bluff and nothing more. It wasn’t a real threat because Theo could never reveal what he knew. He could never show Norris Flay or anyone else the papers now stuck away in a batch of retired files deep in the storage boxes at Boone & Boone. Theo knew the rules. Ike had made them even clearer. When it came to a client’s secrets, nothing left the law office.
So why not send the letter? What was the harm? It wasn’t a crime. The Joe Ford files would be protected. Mr. Stak would read the letter, know immediately that whoever wrote it knew the truth, and at that point he might be terrified of being exposed. The anonymous letter stood a good chance of bullying Mr. Stak into voting against the bypass.
Was this right or wrong? Theo flipped and flopped for an hour as Judge glared at him in the darkness. Then he thought of something else: Wouldn’t the letter reveal Joe Ford’s business to Mr. Stak? Yes, it certainly would. But then, Mr. Stak already knew about the shady land deal, right? So the letter wouldn’t reveal anything that Mr. Stak didn’t already know. Would this be a violation of a client’s secrets? “Maybe,” Theo said aloud. “And maybe not.”
The knot in his stomach was back, and he needed to use the bathroom. At midnight he was sitting in his bed, in the darkness, hunched over his laptop pecking away with some new ideas for the public hearing next Tuesday night. For the moment, the letter was forgotten.
* * *
He slept little, and at 6:30 got up and splashed water on his face. He turned on his laptop, and, as was his habit these days, went straight to YouTube. The bypass video had over 31,000 hits. Theo watched it again, a wide grin on his face. He then went to the Gazette and found another front-page story by Norris Flay. Evidently, Mr. Flay had ventured over to Jackson Elementary again and found a story about a teacher with a lot to say. Her name was Ms. Rooney, and she and her third-grade class had begun wearing yellow surgical masks as a sign of protest. This had quickly spread throughout the third grade, and the fourth, and there was a beautiful color photo of about fifty kids posing on the playground, all with the masks.
The yellow masks, a brilliant idea.
Below the photo there was another story about the bypass. The governor had passed through Strattenburg the day before to rally the troops and push for the project. He had spoken at a Business Forum luncheon and given his usual spiel about how much the area needed the bypass. There was a photo of him mugging for the camera with two of the county commissioners—Mitchell Stak and Lucas Grimes. He called both men “bold leaders” unafraid to make tough decisions.
Staring into the eyes of Mitchell Stak, Theo decided to mail his letter.
He waited until Friday afternoon. He had scoped out a mail drop-off box on a street corner near Gil’s Bike Shop, a place he knew well. It was a typical large, blue metal US Postal Service box with a heavy pull-down slot at the top. As far as Theo could tell, there were no nosy video cameras on any of the nearby buildings.
He had three letters, all identical. The letters themselves were on plain white sheets of copy paper like a million found in every law office. The language had changed little since the original draft. The envelopes were plain white, too, but the wording was different. The return address was from a person who did not exist, a Mr. Toby Clemons, 667 Gorewood Street, Strattenburg. There was no such name in the phone book and no such street in town. Theo decided to use a return address to make the mailing look more authentic. One envelope was addressed to Mr. Stak at his home; another to his hardware store; and the third to the Office of the County Commissioners.
The mail was picked up at 6:00 p.m. each afternoon. At 4:10 Friday, Theo approached the drop box with the three letters in his backpack. He was a nervous wreck. Though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, he felt as though he was in the middle of a serious criminal act. For almost a week, he had debated this back and forth, up and down, pros and cons, inside and out, and he had made his decision. What he was doing wasn’t wrong. Maybe it didn’t feel completely right, but it could not get him in trouble. And, most importantly, it might just kill the bypass, and save the Quinn family farm, and keep polluted air away from kids, and so on. Theo was convinced he was right.
Well, he’d been convinced at school, and at the office, and as he rode his bike over to the mailbox, but when he stopped and pulled the letters from his backpack, a voice told him not to do it. “Don’t mail the letters. It’s wrong and you know it. You’re using secret information that you have no right to use. If you were a real lawyer, as opposed to a kid lawyer, you would be violating rules of ethics and could get into serious trouble. Don’t do it, Theo.”
His heart was pounding and his feet were heavy, and Theo knew he should listen to his conscience. The fact that something is not clearly wrong doesn’t mean it’s right. Ike had once told him that in court great lawyers always trust their gut. Right now, Theo’s gut was turning flips.
He shoved the letters into his backpack and hurried away. After half a block, he felt much better. He was breathing, smiling, pedaling furiously, and his backpa
ck weighed far less with the letters still buried inside.
Chapter 27
The last time Theo had been so excited before an event had been the opening day of the Pete Duffy murder trial. Then, his friend Judge Gantry had given Mr. Mount’s class permission to sit in the balcony of his grand courtroom. The crowd had been standing room only—it was, after all, Strattenburg’s biggest murder trial in decades—and Theo and his classmates were lucky to be there.
This, though, was far different. The public hearing was to begin at 8:00 p.m., and two hours before then groups were gathering outside the County Office Building. Near the large front doors, a line was forming of those wanting the best seats. Dozens of protestors with signs walked back and forth on the sidewalk near the street; it seemed as if all were opposed to the bypass. Two television crews were setting up.
When Theo arrived on his bike at 6:30, he met Hardie, Woody, Chase, and April, and they got themselves organized. They found a spot near a monument close to the front of the building, and began handing out yellow surgical masks to anyone who would take one. Hardie’s father had bought a truckload and was there to help. In fact, the entire Quinn family showed up early.
There was a new wrinkle to their protests. April had the idea to include a yellow bandanna with the word TOXIC printed in bold black letters across the center. It was another brilliant move. She and her mother had found the material, and a screen printer donated their services. When properly attired, with yellow surgical mask and matching yellow TOXIC bandanna, each kid looked like a pint-sized terrorist. They soon attracted a crowd as every kid, and quite a few adults, pushed forward to get a free mask and bandanna. One of the TV crews took notice and began filming.
