by John Grisham
whimpered when his wounds ached. Theo could usually talk him back to sleep. Judge was mending rapidly and enjoying the attention. Theo was not sleeping too well but didn’t care. He would never again fuss at his dog over anything.
On the Thursday morning after Animal Court, Theo carried Judge downstairs and released him into the backyard. Mrs. Boone was sitting at the kitchen table in her night robe, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. “Front page,” she said, and handed Theo the Strattenburg Gazette.
At the bottom of the front page, a bold headline read, SURVEY CREW THROWN IN JAIL. And in the center of the article was a photo of Theo holding Judge as they left court. In the excitement of the moment, Theo had been vaguely aware of a reporter and a photographer.
“Wow,” he said as he admired the photo. The caption under it read, THEODORE BOONE, WITH DOG, JUDGE, SAYS HE PLANS TO FIGHT THE BYPASS AND ALL THE THUGS WHO WORK FOR IT.
“Did you really say that?” his mother asked.
“I guess I did.”
“Seems a bit strong, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” Theo read the article. There were quotes from both parents, Mora Caffrey, Judge Yeck, and Larry Samson. All in all, it was an accurate account of what happened. The defendants disagreed with the verdicts and planned to appeal. Ms. Caffrey promised to have her clients out of jail by noon Thursday. Mr. Silas Quinn said he had filed a civil lawsuit against the four men and their company, and so on. Nothing new, really, except a rather nice photo of Theo and Judge on the front page. Theo liked it.
“You shouldn’t have called them thugs,” Mrs. Boone said.
“Why not? They’re thugs, right? They trespassed and they beat my dog with a stick. They’re not exactly nice guys.”
“You gotta be careful around reporters, Theo. They’re always ready to pounce on the wrong word. Especially Norris Flay.”
“Who’s Norris Flay?”
“The guy you spoke to. The guy who wrote the article. He’s been around a long time and knows how to spin a story. If there’s a hot issue in town, Norris Flay will be there.”
“Isn’t that his job?”
“Yes, it certainly is. But he doesn’t always get things right.”
Theo opened the back door and retrieved his dog. Judge was ready for breakfast. Theo fixed two bowls of cereal and placed one on the floor next to his chair.
Mrs. Boone sipped her coffee and said, “Your father is not too happy about this. He doesn’t want you involved in the bypass fight.”
“Didn’t know I was involved.”
“It appears you are now. You’re on the front page vowing to fight the bypass.”
“Why does Dad care?”
“It’s a nasty political fight and no place for a kid.”
“Mom, are you telling me to butt out?”
“What are your plans, Theo?”
“I have no plans.” Theo took a bite of Cheerios and crunched as loudly as possible. “Do you know a man by the name of Joe Ford?” he asked as he swallowed.
“Yes, Mr. Ford has been a client of our firm for many years. Your father has done a lot of legal work for him. Why do you ask?”
“There is a rumor that he has a secret deal to purchase two hundred acres at the spot where the bypass will intersect with Sweeney Road. So if the bypass gets approved and built, Mr. Ford, who I think is also known by his nickname of Fast Ford, will be in a good position to develop the land and make a fortune.”
Mrs. Boone was frowning and nodding, not sure how to respond.
Theo pressed on, “And there is another rumor, though I think it’s more of a fact than a rumor, that Mr. Ford was a big contributor to the governor’s last campaign. So it looks to me like Mr. Ford gives money to the governor, and the governor pushes the bypass so Mr. Ford can make even more money and then give some more back to the governor. Does this make sense, Mom?”
“This would not surprise me.”
“If it’s true, it sounds pretty sleazy, right Mom?”
“It’s not illegal,” she said, rather lamely, in Theo’s opinion.
“But can’t you agree that it sounds sleazy?”
“Sort of, yes.”
“Then why are we mixed up in it?”
“We?”
“Yes. Why does our law firm represent sleazy clients?”
“Our law firm? Didn’t realize you were now a partner.”
“It’s got my name on it,” Theo said, then flashed his mother a metallic smile.
“Theo, we’ve had this discussion. Everyone has the right to a lawyer, and we, as lawyers, cannot always pick and choose our clients. Often our clients are wrong or they have done bad things, and that’s why they need us. A lawyer is not supposed to judge his or her client. We are supposed to help them.”
“I’m not going to represent crooks,” Theo said, then took another spoonful.
Her eyebrows pinched almost together and she said sternly, “Do not refer to Mr. Ford as a crook.”
“I didn’t call him a crook,” Theo said, chomping. “I just said that when I’m a lawyer I’m not going to have crooks as clients.”
Mrs. Boone took a deep breath and decided to let the conversation die. Theo was tired of it too. He and Judge finished eating in silence.
* * *
During homeroom, Mr. Mount pulled out the morning paper and passed it around. Theo was often amazed at how few of his classmates ever looked at a newspaper, and virtually none of the other fifteen boys had seen the story. A few had scanned it online. Judge’s beating and near-death experience had been a hot topic all week, and the class wanted the details from Animal Court. The front-page story and photo were inspected closely and discussed at length. Theo tried to downplay it all, but secretly thought it was way cool to be on the front page. Woody, seldom quiet, had his version of the trial, and, not surprisingly, it soon grew into something different from Theo’s.
Woody’s parents had filed assault charges against Gino Gordon, the only one of the four still not in jail, and Woody couldn’t wait until his day in court. Hardie’s parents had filed trespassing charges, both in criminal and civil courts, so the three boys were in for a full year of legal adventures. Theo thought this was wonderful, as did Mr. Mount, and the ten minutes in homeroom were again consumed with chatter about the case and its issues.
Hardie was in a different homeroom. He found Theo during the lunch break, and they had a grand time rehashing their great victory in Animal Court. The entire Quinn family was thrilled with the outcome and very proud of Theo for his role in it. They were also delighted that the kid on the front page with the bandaged dog had vowed to “. . . fight the bypass and the thugs who work for it.”
“Did you really say that, Theo?” Hardie asked. The truth was, Theo wasn’t sure what he’d said. As the crowd left the courtroom and spilled into the narrow hallway, there was a crush of people and a lot of talking. Theo was sort of choked up and excited; he was also stunned to see the three men hauled away in handcuffs; and he was holding Judge and just wanted to get away. He caught a glimpse of someone with a camera, and he remembered the reporter asking him some questions as he walked up the stairs.
But, it was also true that Theo really liked the quote, so he said, “Sure.”
“That’s awesome, Theo.”
Hardie wanted to stop by the law office after school and talk about the bypass, and Theo promised to be there, in his office, doing his homework.
* * *
That’s where he was at 4:00 p.m. when his father tapped on his door and said, “Follow me.” Theo knew from experience this was a bad sign. His father rarely made the trek back through the storage files and cluttered rooms to Theo’s office, and he never said simply, “Follow me.”
They walked to the large conference room, where his father closed all the doors, then pointed to a chair for Theo to sit in. He sat in one nearby, and by the time they were seated Theo knew bad news was on the way.
Mr. Boone began, “Last week, I believe you met
Mr. Joe Ford here in the office. He’s been a client of mine for many years. Unfortunately, that has now ended. I received a call from Mr. Ford this morning in which he informed me he was basically firing me as his lawyer. He doesn’t like the fact that my son is such a vocal opponent of the bypass. Mr. Ford is a long-time supporter of that project. Like a lot of people, he thinks it’s important for our community.”
Theo wasn’t sure how to react. He felt lousy because his father got fired. He felt relieved Mr. Ford was gone. He thought it was an overreaction by Mr. Ford. He wanted to ask his father why he represented shady guys like Fast Ford. He decided to play it safe and said, “Sorry, Dad.”
“Your mother tells me you think Mr. Ford is, shall we say, less than honest.”
Thanks Mom. We can’t even have a chat over breakfast without you blabbing it all to Dad. “I barely met him, Dad, so I don’t know him. Is he less than honest?”
Mr. Boone smiled and glanced away. Then he said, “I’ve never seen anything dishonest from Joe Ford. I will say that he knows how to play the system. He has a lot of money and powerful friends, and he’s accustomed to getting what he wants. He demands loyalty, and that’s why he’s looking for another lawyer right now.”
Theo blurted, “He sounds like a crook to me.”
“He’s not a crook, Theo, and you need to stop throwing around words like crooks and thugs, okay?”
His father was right about this, so Theo said, “Yes, sir.”
After a pause, his father asked, “Who told you about the two-hundred-acre purchase at Sweeney Road?”
Ike had told him, but Theo knew better than to admit this. He crossed his arms over his chest, clenched his teeth, and said, “I promised not to tell.” This always worked since both parents knew the importance of keeping secrets.
“You haven’t been snooping around this office, have you?”
Theo managed to act surprised at the very idea. “No sir. I don’t snoop around this office.” This was only partially true, and both he and his father knew it. To help clear things up a bit he said, “Someone told me.”
Mr. Boone shook his head as if he believed this when in fact he did not, and Theo knew it.
“What else did this someone tell you?” Mr. Boone asked.
Theo had nothing to gain by saying anything else. “That’s it. Nothing else.”
His father’s concern only confirmed the truth about Joe Ford and his shady deal, but Theo decided to leave it alone. Fast Ford had said good-bye as a client, and Theo was secretly thrilled such a bad character was gone from Boone & Boone. And he suspected he wasn’t alone. Theo had a hunch his mother was on his side. She had no fondness for real estate developers in town who sought to chew up the land and build more shopping centers and condos. Things had been said before, around the office and around the house, sharp little one-liners and zingers that left no doubt Mrs. Boone did not care for some of Mr. Boone’s clients. Theo was not supposed to hear these things, but Theo missed little.
Theo said, “Look, Dad, I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for Judge to get hurt. I didn’t ask for the trial yesterday. I didn’t ask to get my photo on the front page. It all just sort of happened, and if Mr. Ford is angry, then I’m sorry. Frankly, I think he overreacted by firing our law firm.”
“Our law firm?”
“Got my name on it.”
Mr. Boone smiled and seemed to relax. Theo suspected he wasn’t really that upset at losing Joe Ford as a client. “Go finish your homework,” he said as he got to his feet.
“Sure, Dad.”
Chapter 19
Theo was hard at work memorizing Spanish verbs when someone knocked on his door. It was Hardie. He stepped inside, paused to rub Judge on the head and speak to him, then said, “Say, Theo, are you free for about thirty minutes?”
On a typical afternoon, after Theo checked in at the office, he was free to come and go, as long as his homework was finished. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Let’s hop on our bikes, take a ten-minute ride. I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Eight minutes later, they wheeled to a stop in front of an old, redbrick warehouse in the Delmont section of town, near Stratten College. Most of the warehouses appeared to be abandoned, but on the street front there were a few offices. Above one a sign read: STRATTEN ENVIRONMENTAL COUNCIL.
“In here,” Hardie said, and they walked through the front door. The SEC office was one long, wide room with high rafters, bare brick walls, and a concrete floor in serious need of sweeping. There were some desks and tables, lots of computers, aerial photos and maps tacked to the walls, and at least half a dozen dogs. Evidently, if you worked at SEC you could bring your dog to work. The place hummed with energy, and, for the most part, the crowd was young. Lots of beards and flannel shirts with faded jeans.
The Reverend Charles Quinn, Hardie’s father, was in the midst of a serious conversation when he looked over and saw Theo. Loudly, he said, “Theo Boone, the man!” Others heard this and before Theo knew what was happening he was led, or sort of shoved, to a large wall. Tacked to it was the photo in the morning paper, except it had been enlarged many times over. It was gigantic, larger than life-size, and Theo was stunned to see himself and his dog blown up to the point that they covered an entire wall. His partial statement, “. . . fight the bypass and all the thugs who work for it,” was highlighted in bold letters and stretched across the top of the photo. While Theo was gawking at the wall, the room became quiet and the crowd gathered around him.
Reverend Quinn said to the others, “I’d like to introduce to everyone Mr. Theodore Boone, the hero of the moment, the owner of the most famous dog in town, and a great friend of my son, Hardie.” Theo nodded awkwardly at the others. He would soon learn that only a handful of these people actually worked at the SEC. Most were volunteers, with the majority being students from Stratten College.
A man named Sebastian Ryan stepped forward and shook Theo’s hand. He said, “I’m the director of the SEC and we’re delighted to have you join us here.” Theo was not aware that he had joined anything. He was suddenly very uncomfortable being the center of attention in a place he’d never been before. He said something like, “Yeah, sure, nice to meet you.”
“How’s the dog?” someone asked from the crowd.
“Doing great,” Theo said.
“We’d like to meet him,” someone else said.
“He’s not traveling much these days,” Theo said, and several thought it was funny. Others began drifting away. “Let’s get back to work,” Sebastian said, and the crowd broke up. Theo and Hardie followed Sebastian to the rear of the long room, where he had an open office tucked into a small wing. His desk had once been a wooden door but was now mounted on two cable spool pedestals, and, in Theo’s opinion, was perhaps the coolest desk he’d ever seen. There were no chairs around it, and Theo had already noticed that everyone at SEC worked standing up. No sitting. He made a mental note to ask his mother about this. Probably some new fad.
Theo and Hardie stood and looked at the brick walls, all of which were covered with photos, diplomas, and maps. The first thing Theo saw was a diploma from the Stanford School of Law. Sebastian Ryan was young, perhaps not yet forty, and with his jeans, boots, and beard looked more like a hunting guide than an environmental lawyer.
He said, “I hear both of your parents are lawyers, Theo.”
Theo nodded.
“And I hear you’re a pretty good lawyer yourself.”
“Not yet,” Theo said.
“He knows a lot of law,” Hardie added.
Sebastian was nervous and intense and not much for small talk. “We are attacking this bypass on many fronts. Abuse of eminent domain, destruction of natural resources, noise, pollution, an idiotic traffic plan, and so on. I have a wild idea that I’d like to share with you guys.”
Theo and Hardie nodded because they really had no choice.
Sebastian walked to the wall on his left and pointed to a large map of the proposed bypass. He pointed closer and said, “This is Jackson Elementary School, prekindergarten through grade five. Four hundred students. Right now it sits off to itself, isolated from traffic and noise, just minding its own business, educating little kids while the birds chirp outside and the breeze blows the leaves here and there. However, economic development is on the way. The bypass rips through this parking lot here and comes to within a hundred yards of the school’s front door. So in two years there will be four lanes of heavy traffic, big trucks and buses blasting diesel fumes into the air while cars fly by doing eighty miles an hour. It’s a disaster, and the sad part is that no one has carefully studied the impact the bypass will have on the health of these kids. The governor doesn’t have a clue, nor do his people. The state highway department hasn’t studied it. We’re raising money right now to hire experts who can analyze it and make predictions, but money is tight.”
Theo doubted he and Hardie were expected to write big checks. He asked, “Where do we fit in?”
“Organize the kids. They’re too young for Facebook, but they have older brothers and sisters. Four hundred students equals about three hundred families—some have more than one at the school. Organize the kids, the parents, the teachers. I like the idea of kids—you two—getting other kids involved and angry. If the kids get mad, then the parents get mad, and, of course, the parents are the voters. It’s all coming down to politics. What do you think?”
Theo and Hardie were frowning at the map, not sure what to say.
Sebastian never waited long for an answer. “And it gets better,” he said, taking a step to the side and pointing at the county’s new soccer complex near Jackson Elementary. “Look at this, the SSC—Stratten Soccer Complex. Opened two years ago and the site of ten new fields, all with lights.”
“I play there,” Hardie said.
“Do you know how many kids play soccer in this area?”
“About a million,” Theo said.
“A lot. Now, the bypass shaves off only three of the fields here on the eastern side, and, of course, the promise is that these fields will simply be relocated over on the western side. Two problems with that. First, you can’t believe any of the promises being made. Second, the state does not yet own the property where it’s promising to put these three fields. But let’s say the state keeps its word and relocates the three fields. That means on any afternoon from March through October there will be several hundred kids, parents, coaches, and other spectators at the complex trying to enjoy the games with four lanes of traffic roaring by.”
“So we organize the soccer kids too,” Theo said.
“Exactly. Thousands of them. Get the soccer crowd upset, and our five county commissioners will run for cover.”
“It’s that easy?” Theo asked.
“No, it’s not. Keep in mind, Theo, that a lot of folks who live here are in favor of the bypass. They’re tired of the traffic on Battle Street and they think this is the solution. Any bypass is a good bypass. Heard that?”
“Yes. I read it in the newspaper.”
“It’s not uncommon.”
Sebastian stepped away from the map and rested his rear end on his desk. He said, “The idea here, guys, is for the kids in this community to get mad, involved, and vocal. On the one hand, you have the big guys—the politicians, the trucking companies, the contractors, the businessmen who write big checks to the politicians—and on the other hand you have a bunch of kids who are about to get run over. It could be a great story, and, frankly, we need all the help we can get. This is an uphill fight, and the big money is against us. The public hearing is next month, and we’re working around the clock.”
“When will the commissioners vote?” Hardie asked.
“At the public hearing. They’re not talking much, but it looks like two are in favor of the bypass, one is opposed, and the other two are undecided. But who knows what these guys will do. Frankly, right now, I’m not that optimistic.” His cell phone vibrated. He yanked it out of his pocket, looked at it, and decided not to answer. Then his desk phone began buzzing, and he ignored that too.
Theo loved this guy. He was a lawyer, a tough cool guy with an important job and a passion for saving the environment. He seemed fearless, ready for a good fight, ready to take on the big boys. Even his office was cool, so unlike the rather stuffy ones at Boone & Boone.
Sebastian said, “We need your help, guys. Whatta you say? You can make a real difference here if you jump in and start fighting. We’re on the same team.”
Hardie looked at Theo, who looked at Sebastian, who was nodding as if to say, “Are you guys tough enough?”
“I’m ready,” Hardie said.
“How about it, Theo?” Sebastian said. “They’ve already tried to kill your dog.”
Theo flashed back to the nightmare of Judge being pounded with a stick, and bleeding, and looking up at Theo with those painful, frightened eyes. Theo thought about his dog, and he thought about the Quinn family and their beloved farm, and the more he thought the more determined he became. He looked at Hardie,