by W. S. Fuller
“Did you know about this?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Jeffrey, you knew about this. They found this stuff in twenty different stores. Mercury affects kid’s kidneys, IQ’s and reactions. When did you know about it?”
“Look, it’s still legal in exterior paint so that tells you something about the danger right there. Somehow the old interior stuff got into the pipeline and into the stores before we realized it. The content is low. It’s not that much of a danger.”
“That’s crap, and you know it. It’s probably more dangerous than we’ve been told. Thousands of kids will end up licking the walls and eating the chips...and painters will pour the leftovers into the dirt and it will get into the ground water and kids eat dirt you know. If you knew they were selling paint with mercury in it, why didn’t you go and tell somebody?”
“We didn’t realize it until it was already out and being used. We knew what the press would do and thought some people might panic if we recalled it; and, like I said, the content is real low. I didn’t make the decision and I really don’t think it would have been in my best interest to go to Frank with my Ralph Nader impression. The press is making a much bigger deal out of it than it really is.”
“Jesus, Jeffrey. Not in your best interest?” You know you’re endangering people and breaking the law and all you’re concerned about is what Frank will think. I’m sure you can find a job with a company that’s a little more concerned about children’s health. You’re the comptroller, how much would you have lost if you had recalled it? That’s it, isn’t it, or maybe the money and the bad P.R.”
“That’s enough, please. I think you’re out of line with this.”
“You guys just don’t learn, do you? It hasn’t been but a couple of months since you tried to build a new plant on protected wetlands...Christ.”
“Jennifer, you know the government reclassified that land as available for restricted development.”
“Sure, Jeffrey, but the conservatives have decided that everything that’s not under five feet of water at low tide is arid and more deserving of K-MARTs and condos than the thousands of species that use it for breeding grounds and a habitat.”
Jennifer got up and stormed upstairs to the bathroom to put her makeup on and finish getting ready. She stared in the mirror. All right, calm down. This isn’t the way to start this day. I’ve got to be poised and articulate and sound very sincere. Breathe deep...relax.
Jennifer walked up the steps to the courthouse at 8:30, thirty minutes before Horace’s attorney, Larry Davis, told her to be there. After finding the designated courtroom, she leaned her back against the wall and watched, as the hall gradually came to life. Some waited as she did, others scurried about and appeared to be moving with a definite purpose, still others stood and talked amicably, even jovially, with animated greetings and gestures. It seemed a number of these people knew each other, and the business at hand wasn’t unduly concerning them. No one looked as uptight as she felt.
Horace’s mother arrived at 8:50. “Hello, Mrs. Wilson.” Jennifer smiled warmly and extended her hand.
“Hello, Mrs. Baker. I’m real nervous Mrs. Baker, and I talked to Horace last night and he said he hadn’t slept hardly at all the last few nights. He’s real nervous too.”
“I know he is, but we’ve got to believe everything’s going to work out and he’s going to beat this thing.” Jennifer looked straight into the woman’s eyes. “I really believe it’s going to be all right, Mrs. Wilson, I really do.”
Jan walked up and greeted them both.
“Well, I’m going to go on in and get a seat,” Mrs. Wilson said, “I don’t go to church regular, you know, but I’ve been prayin a lot these last few days. It’ll just kill him, and me too, if he has to stay in jail much longer.” She turned and walked through the heavy, ornate, wooden door.
“God,” Jan said, “This might be a bitch. I’m not so sure I’m emotionally equipped for this sort of thing.”
“Yeah, me either,” Jennifer answered.
“Have you seen his attorney?” Jan asked.
“No, I did finally call him last night but he didn’t say anything he hadn’t said before. He told me he’d meet us here a little before nine.”
“How about Horace?” Jan said in a quiet voice.
“No, they wouldn’t let me talk to him. Rules and regulations, you know. The day his whole life is going to turn on, he’s scared to death, and he can’t even have a phone call.”
Larry Davis, Horace’s court-appointed attorney, appeared in the hall and walked toward the two women. “Is Mrs. Wilson here yet?” His voice had urgency in it.
“Yes, she’s inside.” Jennifer replied.
“We need to get her and talk, I’ve got a deal, but I’ve got to get back with Judge Elder soon.”
“A deal?” Jennifer’s voice was loud and full of alarm. “What do you mean a deal? What kind of deal?”
“Listen to me Mrs. Baker, please.” Davis’s tone was calm, the words measured. “The judge has agreed to reduce the charge to manslaughter. He’ll be sentenced to ten years and he’ll be eligible for parole in three.”
“Goddamn it, you just plea bargained his life, didn’t you? And you didn’t even ask anybody about it? Not his mother, not me, did you even ask him?” Jennifer felt a red heat exploding within her, knew she was losing control.
“Of course I asked him. He has to plead guilty. I met with him this morning. He understands and agrees it’s his best chance, the safest way to go.”
“He agreed because you talked him into agreeing. Isn’t that right? He’s scared to death, you know that, and he’s intimidated with someone like you throwing legal jargon at him. Christ...I can’t believe this. He’s innocent, and that would have come out in that courtroom. He shot that boy in self defense and there’s no reason he should spend another night in jail. You’re ruining his life, don’t you know that? You know what will happen to him if he ends up in prison.”
“Mrs. Baker, please calm down. Please calm down and listen to me.” Again the attorney’s voice was calm, but this time it carried more force.
Jennifer looked at Jan and saw a confused, helpless expression on her face. Jan put her hand around Jennifer’s arm and looked at Davis. “Can we get out of this hall to talk?”
Davis led them around the corner and into an empty courtroom. He motioned them onto one of the back benches, then sat on the bench in front of theirs and turned back to face them.
By outward appearance Jennifer was calmer, but she still seethed. She stared at the attorney, waited for him to speak.
“You believe Horace is innocent and I do too, believe me,” Davis started, “but making the jury believe that is a completely different matter. He was on a street corner to sell crack. He was a member of a gang. He was armed. He’s admitted all that. He shot and killed somebody and the only eye witness says it wasn’t self defense. The jury doesn’t know what a great guy he is, and believe me the district attorney will do everything he can to keep them from finding out.”
“But the...”
“Please, Mrs. Baker, let me finish. There’s a lot of anti-drug sentiment in this town and, I’m sure you’ve noticed, some racism. People are frightened. Juries do funny things. Even when a case is airtight, they can surprise the hell out of you, and this case is far from airtight. All we’ve got is his testimony and the testimony of his teachers and mother that he couldn’t possibly have done it. And I’d be nervous about putting him on the stand. If he’s intimidated by me you can imagine what the cross examination could be like. He could really do himself in.”
“The boy who’s going to testify against him, you said he’s got a record a mile long?” Jennifer asked.
“True, but that will likely never come out in court. He’s under indictment too, for Andy’s death.”
“He’s getting a deal to testify, of course, to lie about what happened, isn’t he?” Jennifer asked.
“I’m not his attorney. I
don’t know.”
“Well, I damn well know.” Her voice rose again.
“Sentencing guidelines have been strengthened in the last few years for serious crimes like this, and judges don’t have the leeway to go light if there’s some doubt or it’s a first offense.” Davis looked over at Jan and then back at Jennifer. He paused. “If Horace is convicted, and I think there is a reasonable chance he would be, he could end up being sentenced to a minimum of twenty years, and have to serve ten or more. You’ve got to look at the odds. This is a good deal considering the circumstances.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were trying to make a deal? You’re deciding his future, his whole life, because that’s what it amounts to, and you didn’t even consult us.” Jennifer’s voice had risen in a steep crescendo, and she was screaming. “Goddamn it, this is unbelievable.”
“I did mention it to you, the first time we met, but you made it clear you didn’t want to hear anymore. And I didn’t know until this morning that I could pull it off. I get twenty five new cases a week that I try to do the best I can with, Mrs. Baker.” Davis’s tone suddenly took on an edge of irritability. “And I think I’ve done a good job here. I don’t have the luxury of calling everyone associated with each of my defendants and giving them up-to-the-minute briefings.”
“Is the deal done, Mr. Davis?” Jennifer’s words came quickly.
“I need to talk to Mrs. Wilson and then get back with the judge.”
“I would like to talk to the judge. I want to talk to him before you talk to Mrs. Wilson.”
“That would be highly irregular, Mrs. Baker. He’s about to go into court and...”
“Look,” Jennifer said, interrupting him, “I’ve been as close to this as anybody. I’ve spent a lot of time with Horace. I’m a concerned citizen, Mr. Davis. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to need more of? I think you can arrange it if you try.” She brought the full force of her stare onto him, and hoped he realized what she wouldn’t accept.
Davis paused a moment before speaking, as if to take the full measure of her. “The two of you wait outside. I’ll see what I can do.”
Jan broke the silence when they were back in the hall. “Maybe he’s right.”
Jennifer stared at the floor. “Goddamn, Goddamn it.”
After only a few minutes Larry Davis came around the corner and motioned to them. They walked into the judge’s chambers and Jennifer felt her face flush as the judge peered at her over his reading glasses. She knew she was good looking and glad of it, but it infuriated her when the first thing a man does is look her up and down. The judge didn’t even try to hide it as most men so unsuccessfully do.
“Your honor, this is Jennifer Baker and Jan Bond. They’re Horace Wilson’s teachers,” Davis said, introducing them.
Jennifer walked forward to accept the hand of Judge Elder. Stay calm, keep cool, convince this son-of-a-bitch.
“Your Honor, Horace Wilson will be destroyed if he goes to prison. His cellmates are already telling him how often he’s going to be raped and forced to buy drugs. He’s a nice, shy kid who’s easily influenced and got mixed up with the wrong people, ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and then had to act in self-defense. He never intended to hurt anyone. He’s never been in trouble before. He’s got a mother and family who care deeply about him and other people like Jan and I who are willing to work with him and help him. He’s bright and can make something of himself if he’s just given a chance.”
Jennifer paused for a moment, trying to gage the judge’s reaction. His expression didn’t change...there were no clues.
She continued. “I used to teach in an inner-city school in Chicago. Eighty percent of the kids were from projects. I saw it all too often...once they spent enough time around the wrong people or in some kind of lockup, the chances of saving them dropped dramatically. If there’s anything you can do to help Horace...anything, your Honor...you’ll be saving any chance he has at a decent future.” Moisture formed in her eyes as she stopped speaking and stared at Judge Elder.
“You’re very eloquent, Mrs. Baker, and obviously sincere and dedicated to your pupils. I admire that. But you must understand that I have already done something for Horace Wilson. It’s not my job to decide his guilt. A jury does that. What I can do is reduce the charges in certain cases where I feel the circumstances warrant it and that is what I have done here. The only way he can avoid prison is to be found not guilty...and to be honest, his chances of that aren’t good. If he is found guilty, my hands will be more severely tied than they are now. Second degree murder carries a stiff sentence.”
“This system is breaking down all around us, Mrs. Baker. There are too many crimes committed, too many people waiting for trial, and too many that are convicted and must be put in overcrowded prisons. There are not enough attorneys like Mr. Davis who will do this work, and the time or money to explore every case the way they did on Perry Mason just isn’t there. The press howls about the fact that the courts are unfair to the poor, but no one is willing to pay to do anything about it. Horace Wilson is getting a fair shake under the circumstances and the system. Now I must go to court.”
Jennifer and Jan walked out of the courthouse into the glare of a bright November sun. They did not speak until Jan asked Jennifer if she was all right.
“Yeah, I’m O.K. I’ll see you back at school.” Jennifer turned and walked across the street to the parking lot. She got in her car, closed the door, rested her head on the steering wheel, and sobbed.
Some of the humans care so deeply about other humans…others don’t appear to care at all…and so many of the less fortunate are so gravely harmed by the latter that they can’t be helped by the former . I, Luggalor.
2000
NORTHERN PACIFIC
Coming awake suddenly...gasping for air...Li lurched up in the berth and felt an explosion of pain as his head cracked into the pipe directly overhead. Probably the tenth time it had happened during the past two weeks. A slight sense of claustrophobia was partly to blame, but more so the insanely small berths and lack of head room. It seemed there was nothing around his head to breathe when he awakened in the stale cabin at night. He looked at the time - 4:15 a.m. There was another hour until his watch began and he knew he would not be able to fall back asleep. Deciding not to try, he kept his eyes open, listening to the deep throb and drone of the diesels, feeling their vibrations course through his body like a incessant, pulsating charge. The constant noise, vibrations, and smell of fuel were the worst part of the first three days, when he felt more miserable than he ever had at sea. The pitching and rolling he could handle...but down below, it was unbearable. He was adjusting, but he would always hate those engines. Li wondered what today would bring in the huge nets. They were nearing the zone south of the Aleutians where the squid would be...and dolphins, whales, salmon and birds.
Li recalled his first time on the ocean in a ship. It was many years ago, but only two days after he had escaped the slaughter at Tiananmen Square in his native China through Hong Kong. He sailed aboard a freighter to Tokyo, then on another to the U.S. Those vessels were plush compared to the old fishing vessel he was on now. Recalling those long days on the passages, he thought of the hours he spent meticulously planning his return to China and his strategy for continuing to work to change the system and the leadership. After reaching the U.S. and learning all that was going wrong in his homeland...he was devastated. Every bit of progress that had been made was evaporating. Many people, among them his friends and the country’s brightest young minds, were being imprisoned and executed. He realized how lucky he was to escape. His sister, who had been by his side at Tiananmen, had not been as lucky. She was separated from him in the chaos of that dreadful night...and, he heard, was in prison.
After months of depression he also realized it was futile to realistically expect any reversal of the crackdown and renewed political oppression in the foreseeable future. At least until the current leadership died off, or the
international community applied enormous pressure. And they wouldn’t. Even with the beacon of revolutions in Eastern Europe, the leadership had too firm a grip, too much power, and were too determined to stop at nothing to continue their system of privilege. Their greed and commitment to self preservation was too strong. Freedom would eventually come, he was sure of it, but he could envision nothing more that he could do at the time. It was so unreal to him. His country had made more positive strides than any other major socialist nation in the fifteen years leading up to the massacre. Measures utilizing principles of a market system and allowing ownership and profits for productivity had vastly improved the economy and promised much more progress in the years ahead. An incredibly successful, national family planning program had cut the population growth of the world’s most populous nation by one half, and while the number of newborns declined significantly, the infant mortality rate also fell due to improvements in education and medical care. China was poised to show the world that an enlightened hybrid of socialism and capitalism could work.
When the students started the demonstrations they were not advocating the overthrow of the socialist system, or even the present government. They were merely calling for less corruption and more progressive political measures to go along with the new economic freedom. They were not armed. The demonstrations and the occupation of the square had none of the violence that would normally be associated with a serious threat to a government as entrenched as the one in Beijing. But nonetheless, all the progress and promise and hopes were wiped out by as ruthless and bloody a crackdown as one could imagine under any provocation. A generation of the country’s best minds and talents were lost to flight, imprisonment, or death. And all because of the greed of a group of leaders and bureaucrats, who were consumed with fear at losing even a portion of their lavish privileges and license for corruption. It amazed Li that so many people, under so many communist regimes, and for so long, had lived with the hardships of these systems, brainwashed into thinking it was for their own good and the good of the nation.
