I turned to look at the woman I had been falling for, and she shook her head, “No, he hasn't, I keep telling him to.”
The lawyer looked momentarily taken back that an officer would be advising a suspect to get a lawyer and shut up. Then he slowly looked at us, and I could see understanding cross his features as he said, “Well I'm Mr...”
He looked back at me, and I supplied, “Stone.”
He continued, “I'm Mr. Stone's council and would like access to my client immediately.”
She nodded. “As soon as he is done processing I'll take you back.” Then she turned hurt eyes to me. “Maddie?”
I shook my head. “Don't, just don't.”
She exhaled loudly and then left the room.
Mr. Johansson looked at me for a moment then sat back down. “Right then, until they come for us, let me get the story from you first shall we?” He pulled out a laptop and started asking questions while he recorded our conversation on his cell.
I had flashbacks from a year ago and wondered if this is what my life was destined to be until my brother took his head out of his ass and got his act together.
Chapter 12 – Arraignment
The next morning I woke up and stretched. I didn't feel like getting up, I had so much to do to get ready for Johnny's arraignment in criminal court today. I'd miss out on a day of sales, and that was going to hurt our finances.
Our?
They had him on tape causing the disturbance while the other man robbed... well, robbed me. Mr. Johansson says he is looking at ten years in prison. Prison, not jail. This was going to ruin Johnny's life forever. I was most likely going to be on my own the next decade unless he took the plea deal the prosecutors were offering. To give up the actual thief, he is working with and plead guilty to two misdemeanors. Then he'd walk away with minimal jail time and three years probation.
The lawyer recommended he take the deal, and I pleaded for him to, hell even O'Brien pleaded with him, but my bullheaded brother kept saying, “I ain't no snitch. I'll do my time, but I'm not giving him up.”
He kept telling me, “I didn't know he'd targeted you Mads. I'm so sorry.”
He, him, him, he... hell if he would just slip up once and say the guy's name, I'd turn him in myself if it would help John. He's too stupid to have any self-preservation.
Then my blood ran cold as I realized just who it had to be. It all fit. Mark's uncle, Bradley, had hired Johnny at the scrapyard, and he had gotten into a fight with him the day after I was robbed according to that asshat Mark. These robberies happened during the day while he was supposed to be working the scrapyard. If he was at the Market instead, then...
I growled out, “Fuck!” We'd never be free of the poisonous influences that were Mark and Jim.
I got my cell as I threw some clothes on. I dressed in my best outfit, I didn't need to look disheveled at the hearing and give them more ammunition if they gave me a chance to speak with him. Maybe they didn't have enough to bring it to trial. I sighed knowing that wasn't the case. And his past record was going to do all the talking.
I stared at the phone. Debating on who to call. I should call the cop, but... I couldn't. I pushed thoughts of her out of my head and dialed Mr. Johansson. He answered, “Miss Stone? What can I do for you? I've sent a car.”
I waved my hand in the air dismissing that, not as he could see, then blurted, “Bradley McGill. It had to be him. He owns the scrapyard Johnny was supposedly working at while he was at the Market...” I trailed off. Then started again before he could respond. “The man is connected to the same bad influences that got Johnny on the wrong side of the law in Portland. And the day after I was robbed, he got into a fight with Bradley and broke his nose.”
He stopped me from saying more. “The police are already looking at the man, but he is being very careful right now. What with your brother's arrest. It took only a moment for the police to wonder why Johnathan still had a job at the scrapyard if he kept taking off in the middle of the day to help in the robberies.”
I exhaled in relief, maybe... He cut off my hope by saying, “They don't have enough to bring him in, and not close to enough for a warrant. If your brother doesn't speak up, he'll lose his chance at a reduced sentence. If the police can make a case against McGill on their own, then Johnny will have no chance at a deal at all.”
My heart sank.
He added, “I have to be plain with you Miss Stone. As much as it pains me to say, there isn't much we can do for your brother. They have him pretty much dead to rights. About all I can do as his council is mitigate the damage as much as I can and get him the most favorable sentence. Maybe get him out in two years on good behavior and five to eight years of probation.”
I just stared at the wall, knowing he was right and I really did appreciate what he and Nala were doing for us. He was orders of magnitude better at his job than the public defender assigned to Johnny last time. And if he didn't see a good outcome...
I nodded to myself and said in a meek voice, “I understand.”
He tried to sound more upbeat. “The best thing you can do for him now is to convince him to testify against McGill. Prison isn't like jail and from what I can tell, Johnathan is a good kid, just misguided. There isn't any coming back the same person if prison is involved.”
I nodded into the air again, and he said, “The car should be there soon. Let's get through this hearing and get bail set, then we can discuss strategy?”
I said, “Ok... and thank you, Mr. Johansson. Really. Thank you for the help.”
He said, “My pleasure. And it's really Miss Dupree you need to thank. She doesn't take many under her wing. You must have made an impression on her. See you soon.”
I nodded and said, “See you soon.” Then I hung up and stared at my cell. I did owe Nala. But how did one even contact Na Na Evermore to thank her?
I didn't want to be disrespectful and cover my head in court, so hats and scarves were out. I looked over the long row of wigs, most of which I traded artwork for, to a perruquier, or wigmaker, in Portland. I'd never be able to afford quality wigs like this otherwise. Just the one I got in the foster care system.
I pulled my hand back like it had touched a hot stove when I realized my hand was resting on the red wig that SHE liked. Why couldn't I get Danielle out of my mind? I moved on to the shoulder length brunette demi-bob. It was my favorite and looked the least threatening or provocative of the lot.
I sat down at my little makeup table, stared into the mirror, and went to work hiding the freak and bringing Madelyn to the surface. As I fastened my wig, I hesitated and forced away a smile over the fact that Danielle had seemed to like me with or without hair. My smile soured as I realized that I wish I liked myself with or without hair.
I threw a compact across the room as I made an exasperated sound, wishing I was anyone else in the world just then. My life was so fucked up.
I calmed down and finished getting ready, then stood when there was a knock at the door. Wondering if sending cars to pick people up was normal for rich people. I felt a little embarrassed. I could have just driven my truck.
I hesitated when I heard a familiar voice at the door, “Yo, lady, get yer butt out here. We got a hearing to go to.”
I had to grin as I opened the door to see Nala standing there in a posh business suit that looked sort of ridiculous on her with her mohawk trailing behind her. I noticed she had a long tail on the Mohawk, something I didn't notice before. She must have kept it tucked under her shirt the prior night. She had a big black bowtie on it, keeping it in a ponytail.
I shook my head at her as I grinned. She asked, “What? It's court, I gotta dress nice.”
I chuckled and asked, “What are you doing here Na Na?”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I'm Nala here. I just thought you could use a little support. Niles says Officer Hot Pants is already there. What's the deal with you two? She seems pretty hung up on you but you don't give her the time of day.”
Then her eyes widened, and she made an ick face and guessed, “Oh, yer straight? I didn't get that vibe before. Not that it's a bad thing, I have lots of straight friends.”
Ok, now that was funny, and I couldn't stop from laughing. How many times have I had people tell me when they found out I was lesbian, “There's nothing wrong with that, I have lots of gay friends.”
I think this was the reaction she was shooting for and I assured her, “No, I ride the rainbow. I'm just mad at her. She betrayed me. She's the one who arrested Johnny... right there as we sat at my table at dinner.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, thinking, and nudged her chin toward the door. “Come on, the car is waiting.” We went out, and I locked the door, and she asked as we went down the stairs. “So you're mad that she did it, someone, who knew your brother, instead of a complete stranger who might not have treated him well? That's kind of fucked up Madelyn.”
I hesitated on the last step. Is that really what I wanted? I was going to be mad at Johnny no matter what. Danielle could have easily have sent someone else to arrest him. Was it for me that she did it herself? She hadn't even cuffed him or try to force him. He knew he had fucked up and didn't try to run, he just went with her.
Then Nala finished her one-two sucker punch as she looped an arm in mine to pull me to the waiting Lincoln Town car. “Are you going to begrudge the woman for doing her job? You think you're conflicted, I imagine it was even worse for her.”
I glanced over to see Mr. L sitting on his porch again, he seemed to always be around, watching. I called out to him, “I may be a little short on next month's rent, but I’m good for it Mr. Laurey.”
He called over in a soft tone, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You're covered for a couple, and besides, I like you kid. You never gotta worry about tough times here.”
I smiled at him, wondering if this is what having a grandfather was like. He seemed more like family than my landlord.
I turned back as the driver opened the back door, and Nala slid in then bounced her way across the seat, giving me room. I placed one hand on the doorframe, remembering what the Punk Princess had said, and looked in at the smug wench. “Don't go making sense and using logic on me like that. It isn't fair.”
She snorted and chuckled in complete amusement. I rolled my eyes and slid in as the driver shut the door. Then I admitted in a whisper before he got in, “My heart hurts so bad. I feel betrayed, and I know it doesn't make sense.”
She reached over and laid a reassuring hand on my arm. “Then lay it on me, and let's see if we can't figure it out?” Then she nudged her eyes up with a smirk. “Love the new locks by the way.”
I chuckled and asked as I touched my hair, “What? This old thing?” She grinned at my snark. This woman was random, and I liked that. If I were somebody, I could see us being friends in another life.
She looked forward and started repeating, “Partition... partition...” As the driver got in and started the car. I saw the man smile in the rearview mirror as the privacy partition slowly rose while she quipped, “Good help is so hard to find these days.”
She winked at me and said, “Actually, James is a good guy, for a cut-rate driver.”
The man said just before the partition finished rising, “Name still isn't James ma'am.”
She hit a button on the door armrest, and the partition lowered slightly, and she said, “Shut up Pete.” Then she closed the partition on his chuckles. I found myself amused at their antics. He must be her regular driver. Again I wondered why rich people had drivers and didn't drive themselves.
Then I spilled the rest of what I hadn't told her the prior night. And how I thought I had been falling for Danielle. About why I felt so betrayed. Because I had basically kept Johnny in line down in Portland. He was like an overgrown little boy, and I felt like I was taking care of him instead of the other way around. Then his arrest and the consequences. How I had to get him out of Portland because he still hung out with the asshat boys even after jail. How I started a new life for us here in Seattle. And how all of that was thrown away when Danielle arrested him right there in front of me.
Now I'd have to do everything I could to help Johnny, and the next ten years were going to be hell. I didn't know if we could start over again after that.
I finished as we pulled up to the courthouse. When Pete opened the door, she looked up at him, “Give us a minute, James.” He looked at us then nodded, a serious look in his eye like he knew we were talking about something heavy. He closed the door and stood with his back to the door.
Nala turned to me and leaned her back against the door, and she rattled off, “We, us, Johnny. I don't ever hear any Madelyn in there. You don't see it, do you? The past year you've been living for your brother. Everything is centered around him and the bad choices HE made, not the choices you made. You are living for him. That's why you are mad at this Danielle chick. Because she arrested HIM, because of things HE did.”
I was silent, trying to understand what she was saying. Then she asked with pain in her voice like she was speaking from experience, “When do you get to live for you? When Does Madelyn get to be happy and live her own life?”
I opened my mouth, and she shook her head and added, “You aren't betraying your brother if you are happy when he is not. He made his choices. You love him because he is your brother, but that doesn't mean you have to live for him. You have your own life. Support him, but remember that he isn't everything, you have the RIGHT to be happy.”
I closed my eyes and shook, fighting off a sob.
Nala tapped the window, and Pete opened the door, and she slid out of the car and held her hand out to me. “Come on, we don't want to be late.”
I took a deep breath, nodded, gathering my courage around me and accepted her hand, and she helped me out. Was it really that simple?
I dwelled upon her words as we made our way into the courthouse as Pete pulled back into traffic. I hesitated at the doors. It was building just like this that my ordeal began after John's first hearing. It was right after that when the questioning, depositions, and humiliation on the stand began.
I took a deep breath and stepped in. Then I was treated to the humorous spectacle of watching Nala go through the metal detector after she took off her multitudes of jewelry and placed it all on the tray with her purse.
The machine beeped, and they had her go through again. Then they ran a wand over her, and I may have chuckled when it kept chirping whenever it went over her breasts or her... nether region. I had a guess as to why.
They had a female security worker pat her down. She gave the woman a seductive look as she said, “It's my piercings, I have a lot of metal hanging off of them, wanna see?” The other woman gave her a sour look which made the evil Nala laugh. Then the woman waved her through.
I glanced at the punk rocker with a smug look on my face and stepped through the metal detector without incident, giving her a “So there,” look. This caused her to grin like a loon. We retrieved our things at the end of the conveyor then stood there looking around.
I muttered to myself, “Courtroom, B201.”
She offered, “Second floor?”
My sarcasm got the best of me as I said before I could stop myself, “You think?”
She smiled and spun away from me and headed toward the stairs in the crowded lobby. It struck me as sort of sad that a courthouse would be so busy.
When we reached the second floor, it seemed just as busy, and we saw lots of people sitting on benches outside of doors. I shuddered. Again, I had sat on a bench just like that while I had waited for them to call me into the courtroom as a character witness. Before my public humiliation.
I recognized Mr. Johansson standing outside of one of the courtrooms. He perked up when he saw us coming. He said to us as we walked up, “I didn't think you were going to make it Miss Stone. They are about to convene. What are you doing here Miss Dupree?”
She deadpanned, “It's g
ood to see you too Niles. I'm here for moral support.”
He nodded in apology to her, then held the door open for us as we stepped in. The courtroom was almost full. I wondered how many arraignments were on the docket today. Most of the people would be friends or relatives of the people having hearings, but there would be some looky-loos and press mixed in, and maybe a law student or two.
He found us seats and assured me, “This is just the first step. There will be arguments for and against the indictment, then bail arguments and...”
I nodded, “I'm familiar.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment, gave us a smile of encouragement, and went to take a seat in the front row where all the attorneys waited for their client's turns.
The bailiff stepped into the room from one of the doors to the left of the stand, and said loudly, “Please rise. The King County District Judicial Circuit, Criminal Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Marianne Malinowski presiding.”
We all stood, and a middle-aged African American woman in a black robe, with silvering streaking her black hair which was tied up in a professional bun, stepped into the room. She adjusted her silver rimmed glasses as she looked around while she strode to the Judges Bench and placed some paperwork on it, held her robe and sat down. Then she said, “Please be seated. The court is now in session.” She tapped her gavel on the block, and we all sat.
She looked around again. “Good morning ladies, gentlemen, and any non-binary observers. We have a lot to get through here today, so please refrain from any outbursts or disruptions, my bailiff is itching to throw someone out on their ear.” Said bailiff grinned at the room, and people chuckled. I liked how inclusive the woman was, though I still felt uneasy being there.
The crowd murmured as she turned to acknowledge the court reporter, a gangly red-headed man who didn't look any older than me. He nodded to her, and she turned to the bailiff and said to him as she glanced down to a paper in her hand, “And what do we have first on the docket today bailiff?”
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