by John Grisham
“What’s up?” Theo asked. He really wanted to inform Woody that this was a terrible time to ask for free legal advice. Theo had too much on his mind.
“You can keep this quiet, right?” Woody asked.
“Of course.” Great. Just what Theo needed. Another secret.
Hallie walked by, slowed for a second, flashed a comely smile at Theo, but realized he was busy. She disappeared.
“My brother got arrested last night, Theo,” Woody said, and his eyes were wet. “The police came to the house after midnight, took him away in handcuffs. It was terrible. He’s in jail.”
“What’s the charge?”
“Drugs. Possession of pot, maybe distribution.”
“There’s a big difference between possession and distribution.”
“Can you help us?”
“I doubt it. How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
Theo knew the brother by reputation, and it was not a good one. “First offense?” Theo asked, though he suspected the answer was no.
“He got busted for possession last year, his first. Slap on the wrist.”
“Your parents need to hire a lawyer, Woody. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing’s simple. My parents don’t have the money, and if they did they wouldn’t spend it on a lawyer. There’s a war in my house, Theo. Kids against parents, and nobody’s taking prisoners. My stepfather has been fighting with my brother over the drug thing, and he’s promised a thousand times he will not get involved when the cops bust him.”
The bell rang. The hall was empty.
Theo said, “Okay, catch me at recess. I don’t have much advice, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks, Theo.”
They hustled into Madame Monique’s class. Theo took his seat, opened his backpack, and realized he had not done his homework. At that moment, he really didn’t care. At that moment, he was thankful he lived in a quiet and cozy home with great parents who seldom raised their voices. Poor Woody.
Then, he thought about the gloves.
Chapter 15
Halfway through Geometry, with Miss Garman still dropping hints about a quiz, and with Theo staring at the wall and trying to stay awake, the intercom above the door squawked and startled the class.
“Miss Garman, is Theo Boone in class?” It was the shrieking voice of Miss Gloria, the school’s longtime secretary.
“He is,” Miss Garman responded.
“Please send him down. He needs to check out.”
Theo grabbed his things, stuffed them into his backpack, and as he was hustling toward the door Miss Garman said, “If we have a quiz, Theo, you can make it up on Monday.”
Well, thanks for nothing, Theo thought, but instead he said, “Can’t wait.”
“Have a nice weekend, Theo,” she said.
“You too.”
He was in the hall before he took a breath and wondered who was checking him out, and for what reason. Maybe his mother had grown concerned about his red eyes and tired face and she had decided to take him to the doctor. Probably not. She was not one to overreact, and as a general rule she did not call the doctor until Theo was half dead. Maybe his father was having second thoughts and had decided to allow Theo to watch the last day of the trial. Probably not. Woods Boone was, as always, in another world.
Maybe it was something far worse. Some way, somehow, somebody had snitched on him and the police were waiting with a search warrant to find the gloves. The secrets would come out and he, Theo Boone, would find himself in serious trouble.
He slowed his pace. Where the hallway turned, he peeked through a large window and caught a glimpse of the front of the school. No police cars. Nothing to indicate trouble. He kept walking, even slower.
Ike was waiting. He was chatting with Miss Gloria when Theo entered the front office.
“This man says he’s your uncle,” Miss Gloria said with a smile.
“I’m afraid so,” Theo said.
“And you have to go to a funeral over in Weeksburg?”
Ike was saying Come on, Come on with his eyes. Theo hesitated just for a second, then nodded and said, “I hate funerals.”
“And you won’t be coming back?” she said, reaching for a clipboard.
“No, the funeral is at one thirty,” Ike said. “It’ll kill the day.”
“Sign here,” she said.
Theo signed and they left the office. Ike’s car was a Triumph Spitfire, a two-seater, at least thirty years old and far less than perfectly maintained. Like everything else in Ike’s life, it was barely hanging together and lucky to be running.
They were a block from the school before Theo spoke. “A funeral, huh? I like it.”
“It worked.”
“And where are we going?”
“You’ve come to me for help. My advice is that we go to the offices of Boone and Boone, get your parents in a room, and tell them everything.”
Theo took a deep breath. He couldn’t argue. The issues involved were too complicated for him.
They surprised Elsa when they barged in the front door. She jumped to her feet and said, “Is something wrong?”
“Good morning, Elsa,” Ike said. “You look exotic as always.” She was wearing an orange sweater the color of a pumpkin with matching glasses and lipstick.
She ignored Ike, looked at Theo, and said, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the funeral,” Theo said, and began walking toward the library.
“Could you please round up Woods and Marcella?” Ike said. “We need to have a family meeting in the library.”
Normally Elsa would have balked at being told what to do, but she knew this was serious. Luckily, Mrs. Boone was in her office, alone, and Mr. Boone was upstairs shoving paper around his desk. They hurried into the library, one after the other, and as soon as Ike closed the door Mrs. Boone looked at Theo and said, “Are you okay?” Mr. Boone looked at Theo and said, “What’s going on here? Why aren’t you in school?”
“Relax,” Ike said. “Let’s all have a seat and discuss matters.” They sat down, both parents eyeing Theo as if he’d committed a crime.
“Now,” Ike continued, “Let me go first, then I’ll shut up and Theo can talk. On Wednesday, just two days ago, Theo had a chat with one of his friends at school. This chat led to another chat, and in the course of these conversations Theo came across some information that could have a dramatic impact on the trial of Mr. Pete Duffy. In short, there’s a witness out there, a witness no one knows about. Not the police, not the prosecution, not the defense, no one, except for Theo and his friend. Theo did not know what to do, so he came to me. I’m not sure what to do either, so here we are.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mrs. Boone snapped.
“He’s telling you now,” Ike snapped back.
“I was scared,” Theo said. “Still am, and I promised this friend that I would tell no one.”
“What does this witness know?” asked Mr. Boone.
Theo looked at Ike and Ike looked at Theo. Go ahead, Ike said with his eyes. Theo cleared his throat and looked at his mother. “Well, this witness was in the woods near the Duffy home at the time of the murder. He saw Mr. Duffy pull up in a golf cart, take off his shoes, put a golf glove on his right hand, go inside the house, and come out a few minutes later. It was at the time of the murder. He put his shoes on, stuck the golf gloves in his bag, and sped away as if nothing happened.”
“How do you know it was at the time of the murder?” Mrs. Boone asked.
“The pathologist testified that she died around eleven forty-five. The witness was on his lunch break, and it started at eleven thirty.”
“And Mr. Duffy never saw this witness?” asked Mr. Boone.
“No.
The man was hiding in the woods eating his lunch. He works at the golf course.”
“Do you know his name?” Mrs. Boone asked.
“No, but I know who he is.”
“Have you talked to him?” asked Mr. Boone.
“Yes.”
“Where did you talk to him?” asked Mrs. Boone.
Theo felt like a trial witness suffering through a hot cross-examination. He hesitated, and Ike jumped back in. “He’d rather not divulge the names of the witness or the friend, and if you ask too many questions, then their identities might become obvious.”
“I promised,” Theo said, pleading. “In fact, I promised not to say a word to anyone. I don’t know what to do.”
“So he came to me first,” Ike said. “For advice. He didn’t want to trouble you, but now there’s more to the story. Right, Theo?”
Both parents glared at him. Theo squirmed in his chair. He tapped his fingers on the long oak table.
“Go ahead, Theo,” Ike said.
“Let’s have it,” Mr. Boone said.
Theo told them about the gloves.
“And you have them in your possession?” Mrs. Boone asked when he finished.
“Yes.”
“Where are they now?”
“Downstairs, hidden behind a box of old divorce files.”
“Downstairs, here? In our office?”
“Yes, Mom. Here. Below us.”
Mr. Boone whistled and said, “Oh boy.”
There was a long silence as the four Boones pondered the situation and tried to sort out which laws and which procedures might apply to this unusual set of facts. Though he’d said more than he planned to, Theo was relieved that his burden had now been shared. His parents would know what to do. Ike would offer some advice. Surely the three adults could figure this out.
“The paper said the trial might be over today,” Mrs. Boone said.
“I just left the courtroom,” Ike said. “Mr. Duffy is expected to testify this afternoon, and he’s the last witness. After closing arguments, the jury will get the case.”
“The gossip at the café this morning was that Judge Gantry will hold court tomorrow and wait for the jury,” Mr. Boone said.
“On Saturday?”
“That was the gossip.”
There was another long gap in the conversation. Mrs. Boone looked at her son and said, “Well, Theo, what do you suggest we do at this point?”
Theo was hoping the adults would know what to do. He squirmed a little, then said, “It seems to me that the best thing to do is to tell Judge Gantry the whole story.”
“I agree,” she said with a smile.
“Me too,” said Ike.
It was no surprise, at least to Theo, that his father did not agree. “But what if we tell Judge Gantry,” Mr. Boone said, “and he presses Theo for the name or identity of this witness? And Theo refuses to cough up the name? Then what? It could be that Judge Gantry holds him in contempt.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Theo blurted.
“It means trouble,” his father said.
“It means he could throw you in jail until you give him what he wants,” Ike said with a nasty grin, as if he thought this was humorous.
“I’d rather not go to jail,” Theo said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Woods,” Mrs. Boone said. “Henry Gantry would not hold Theo in contempt.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Woods fired back. “You have a crucial eyewitness whose testimony could potentially change the outcome of the trial, and you have one person who knows about this eyewitness. That person is Theo, and if he refuses to obey the judge, then the judge might get upset. I wouldn’t blame him.”
“I really don’t want to go to jail,” Theo said.
“You’re not going to jail,” Mrs. Boone said. “No judge in his right mind would lock up an innocent thirteen-year-old.”
Another long pause.
Finally, Mr. Boone said, “Theo, what would happen if the identity of this witness were somehow revealed?”
“He’s an illegal immigrant, Dad. He’s not supposed to be here, and he’s scared. If the police know his name and find him, then he’s in jail and it’s all my fault. If they don’t catch him, then he’ll disappear.”
“Then don’t tell us who he is,” Mrs. Boone said.
“Thank you, Mom. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Got it. But now you know he’s an illegal immigrant and he works at the golf course. He wouldn’t be hard to find.”
“And how did you get to know this person?” Mr. Boone asked.
“He has a cousin at school, and this cousin came to me for help.”
“Like all the other kids at school,” Ike said.
“Not all, but most of them.”
Everyone took a deep breath, then Mr. Boone looked at Theo and smiled. “It’s the family from the shelter, isn’t it? Julio, your friend, the kid you tutor in math? And his mother, what’s her name?”
“Carola,” Theo’s mother answered.
“Carola, right. I’ve spoken to her several times. She has two smaller kids, and Julio. They’re from El Salvador. Julio’s cousin is the mysterious eyewitness. Right, Theo?”
Theo nodded. Yes, Dad, you figured it out. And in an odd way he was relieved. He didn’t actually betray a confidence, and someone had to know the truth.
Chapter 16
It occurred to Theo, as he walked behind his parents and Ike, that this was perhaps the first time he’d entered the courthouse with some reluctance. He was always excited to be there, to see the clerks and lawyers hustle about with their important matters, to take in the large, open marble foyer with an old chandelier hanging from above and massive portraits of dead judges on the walls. He’d always loved the courthouse, but such feelings of fondness were absent now. Theo was afraid of what was about to happen, though he had no idea what it might be.
They marched upstairs to the second floor, to the closed and guarded door of the main courtroom. A bailiff named Snodgrass informed them that the trial was in session and the door would not be opened until a recess. So they marched down the hall to the office of the Honorable Henry L. Gantry, where his secretary, Mrs. Irma Hardy, was typing away when they entered.
“Good morning, Irma,” Mrs. Boone said.
“Well, good morning, Marcella, and Woods, and, well, hello, Theo.” Mrs. Hardy was standing and removing her glasses and obviously uncertain as to why the entire Boone family had suddenly appeared at her desk. She looked suspiciously at Ike, as if their paths had crossed long ago under circumstances that had been less than ideal. Ike was wearing jeans, white sneakers, and a T-shirt, but thankfully, he’d put on an old brown blazer and it gave him some measure of credibility.
“Ike Boone,” he said, thrusting out a hand. “Brother of Woods, uncle of Theo. Used to be a lawyer around here.”
Mrs. Hardy managed a fake smile as if she remembered the name and shook his hand.
Mrs. Boone said, “Look, Irma, we have an urgent matter to discuss with Judge Gantry. I know he’s on the bench right now, the Duffy trial, and, well, that’s why we’re here. I’m afraid it’s crucial that we speak with him.”
Mr. Boone barged in, “What time will he break for lunch?”
“Usually around noon, same as always, but he’ll meet with all the lawyers during lunch,” Mrs. Hardy said, glancing at each of the four faces staring at her. “He’s extremely busy, you know.”
Theo looked at the large clock on the wall behind her. It was ten minutes after eleven.
“It’s imperative that we see the judge as soon as possible,” Mrs. Boone said, a bit too pushy in Theo’s opinion. But then, she was a divorce lawyer and she was not known
to be timid.
But this was Mrs. Hardy’s turf and she was not one to be pushed around. “Well, it might be helpful if you tell me what’s up,” she said.
“I’m afraid it’s confidential,” Mr. Boone said with a frown.
“We simply can’t do that, Irma, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Boone added.
There were some chairs across the room, under yet more portraits of dead judges. Mrs. Hardy waved at them and said, “You may wait here. I’ll inform the judge as soon as he breaks for lunch.”
“Thank you, Irma,” Mrs. Boone said.
“Thanks,” Mr. Boone said.
Everyone took a breath, and smiled, and the Boones retreated.
“Theo, why aren’t you in school?” Mrs. Hardy asked.
“It’s a very long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you one day.”
The four Boones sat down, and within fifteen seconds Ike was leaving, mumbling about going for a smoke. Mrs. Boone was on her cell phone, checking on some pressing matter with Elsa back at the office. Mr. Boone was poring over a document from a file he’d brought.
Theo remembered Woody and the arrest of his brother. He opened his backpack, removed his laptop, and began searching the Criminal Court dockets and arrest records. Such information was not available to the public online, but Theo, as always, used the Boone law firm’s access code to find whatever he needed.
Woody’s brother, Tony, was being held in the Strattenburg Juvenile Detention Center, the fancy name for the jail where they locked up those under the age of eighteen. Tony was charged with possession of marijuana with intent to sell, a crime that carried a maximum sentence of ten years in prison. Because he was seventeen, a minor, he could probably work a deal that would allow him to plead guilty and serve two years in another youth facility. Assuming, of course, he agreed to plead guilty. If he wanted to plead not guilty, then he would face a jury and run the risk of a much longer sentence. Juveniles charged with drug violations went to trial in less than 2 percent of the cases.
If the parents and stepparents refused to help, as Woody had said, then his brother would be assigned to a public defender. In Strattenburg, the public defenders were very good and handled similar drug cases every day.
