Theodore Boone - The Accomplice

by Grisham, John

  Of Mr. Mount’s sixteen boys in homeroom, seven were Scouts who had gone camping. As soon as the bell rang Monday morning and he took roll—all sixteen were present—he asked Woody to stand before the class and describe the weekend. Being thirteen years old, most of the boys preferred not to speak before a group, though Theo loved to do so. To overcome this shyness, Mr. Mount often selected one at random and asked him to walk to the front of the room and talk. He expected them to have good posture, speak slowly, and be as confident as possible. A few were naturals but most struggled for five long minutes.

  Woody began by telling a funny story about a prank they played on the youngest Scout. He got a few laughs, seemed to warm up, and as he was describing the Midnight Hike there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Gladwell interrupted things as she walked in. She nodded at Mr. Mount, then at Woody, and asked them to step into the hall.

  Mr. Bob Hawley from Action Bail Bonds was waiting. He introduced himself to Mr. Mount and asked Woody, “Did you leave town last weekend?”

  Woody glanced nervously at Mrs. Gladwell and said, “Yes, sir. I went camping with the Scouts to Lake Marlo.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Mr. Hawley growled. “You’re not supposed to leave Stratten County, son. You violated the terms of your bail bond.” He whipped out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed Woody’s arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  Mr. Mount took a step forward and said, “You can’t do that!”

  “Sure I can, do it all the time when the criminals skip bail.”

  “Don’t call him a criminal!” Mrs. Gladwell said.

  Woody jerked his arm away, but Hawley managed to grab the other arm tightly and slap the cuffs on his right wrist. “Let him go!” Mr. Mount said.

  The door was partially open and Theo and the others heard every word.

  Hawley was a tough guy who knew his business. “You got no choice, kid, and don’t start trouble.” He poked Mr. Mount in the chest and said, “And if you get in the way I have the authority to arrest you as well. Now back off.”

  He grabbed Woody’s left wrist and cuffed it. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Woody asked loudly.

  “To jail, son. That’s where we take all the bail jumpers.”

  “He didn’t jump bail,” Mr. Mount said, though he wasn’t sure.

  “Knock it off,” Hawley said angrily and seemed ready to throw a punch. Mrs. Gladwell backed away, speechless. Hawley grabbed Woody by the elbow and marched him down the hall. Fortunately, it was empty. The students were still in homeroom and waiting for the bell for first period.

  The remaining fifteen boys raced to the windows and watched in disbelief as Woody was led out of the building. Another tough-looking guy was waiting beside a car and opened a rear door. Hawley shoved Woody into the back seat.

  Mr. Mount looked dazed when he reentered the classroom. The boys scrambled back to their seats. For a moment, nothing was said. The unbelievable moment spoke for itself. Finally Mr. Mount said, “Theo, did you know Woody was not supposed to leave the county?”

  “Of course not. It never crossed my mind, or his, or anyone else’s for that matter. I can’t believe this.”

  “I can’t either.”

  “How can they do that?” Aaron asked. “That guy’s not a cop is he?”

  “No, he’s not,” Mr. Mount said, rubbing his jaw. “But a bail bondsman does have the authority to arrest his own client if the terms of the bond are violated.”

  Mrs. Gladwell stepped through the door and said, “Mr. Mount, would you and Theo come to my office?”

  As if on cue, the bell for first period rang and the boys slowly picked up their backpacks. Theo and Mr. Mount followed Mrs. Gladwell to her office where she closed the door. She stood beside her desk and looked at them. None of the three knew what to say.

  After a pause she said, “Okay, what do we do now? I assume that guy has the right to go virtually anywhere to grab one of his clients, but it does seem as though a school should be off-limits.”

  “It’s not,” Mr. Mount said. “The law gives bail bondsmen a lot of power. But the whole idea of Woody jumping bail is just plain stupid. So he left town. He wasn’t trying to run away or skip out. He left, he came back, he showed up here today for school just like he was supposed to. That guy probably hopes the judge will set a new bail so he can write another bond, make another buck off Woody.”

  “Woody doesn’t have another buck,” Theo said. “We had to beg and borrow the first time. He’ll be stuck in jail forever.”

  “What should we do?” she asked.

  Mr. Mount said, “Well, the first thing is to notify his lawyer, Mr. Wall. They’ll take Woody before the judge real soon, I suppose, and his lawyer needs to be there.”

  “We should be there, too,” Theo said, always eager to go to court and avoid class.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll call his mother. Mr. Mount, you call his lawyer.”

  Theo suddenly had an idea. He said, “And I’ll call Major Ludwig, our scoutmaster. He and Woody talked about his case during the campout, and the Major has volunteered to act as his Youth Court counselor. He knows the judge pretty well.”

  “Great idea,” she said. “Let’s get busy.”

  Woody was placed in the same cell he and Tony had once shared with their old pal Jock, and the memories were cold and harsh. He was in a state of disbelief and mumbled to himself as he stretched out on the bottom bunk and tried to make sense of it all. Alone again, he turned to face the wall and fought back tears. For a solid week, he had not only gone to school every day but had done so with all homework completed. He had stayed after school for tutoring. The thought of a beer had never crossed his mind. He had gone camping with his Scout troop. What else could he have done to behave himself? Yet here he was again, in a dingy jail cell all alone.

  An hour later, a jailer walked to his cell and informed him that he would be taken before the judge for a one p.m. hearing. He thanked the man, though he had no idea what was about to happen. He managed to convince himself that his mother and Tony and Theo were doing everything possible to get him out again. He was worried sick, though. If the judge imposed bail again, there was no way they could raise any more money. He would probably get stuck in jail for months.

  Lunch was a turkey sandwich and a dill pickle, and he ate every bit because he was starving. The same deputy unlocked his cell, handcuffed him, and led him to the front, past the desk, and to a waiting patrol car. A few minutes later, he entered the basement of the courthouse and rode up the service elevator.

  Judge Pendergrast was on the bench when Woody was brought in. In the front row were his mother, Theo, and Mr. Mount. His lawyer, Rodney Wall, was waiting by the bench with Bob Hawley, a man he now despised.

  For Theo, it was the first time he’d seen the judge since he cross-examined him in Animal Court. He, Theo, assumed there were no hard feelings. He thought he’d done a good job on cross. He thought the judge had handled himself well as a witness. His Honor was certainly a veteran of courtroom warfare and knew that each lawyer had a job to do. When he assumed the bench he had nodded to Theo but didn’t smile. Theo did note that he looked more rested lately. There had been no reports of Rufus rampaging through the neighborhood, no complaints to Animal Control. Theo had bumped into Roger at school and everything was fine with their rabbit.

  A fair outcome for all. Who could complain? Theo decided not to worry about any grudge that the judge might carry.

  His Honor was reading some paperwork, and when he finished he said, “I’ve looked over the bond written by Action. Did you, Mr. Lambert, leave the county over the weekend?”

  Woody stiffened his back, glared at the judge, and said, “Yes, sir. I went camping at Lake Marlo with my Scout troop.”

  “And were you aware that you are forbidden from leaving Stratten County?”

  “No, sir. I did not know that.”

  “Mr. Wall, did you warn your client about leaving the county?”r />
  “No, sir. I assumed he and his mother knew that he was expected to stay home.”

  “Well, it looks as though you assumed too much.” Judge Pendergrast seemed irritated at the situation.

  The door opened and Major Ludwig walked in. He leaned against the rear wall and nodded at the judge, who noticed him but continued. “Well, I have no choice but to revoke your bond and discuss setting bail.”

  The Major stepped forward and said, “Your Honor, may it please the court, I have something to say.”

  “Go ahead, Major Ludwig.”

  “Woody is one of my Scouts and I’m volunteering as his Youth Court counselor. I take full responsibility for the camping trip and for his leaving the county. It never crossed my mind that he was violating the terms of his bail. It’s my fault, Judge, and I can promise you that he will be right here any time you want.”

  The Major moved and spoke like a seasoned lawyer, and it was obvious he had the judge’s respect. He continued.“There is absolutely nothing to be gained by setting bail again. It’s my understanding that the family sacrificed everything to get him out the first time. Release him to my supervision and there will be no more problems. I’ve discussed these charges with Woody, did so last weekend during the campout, and I firmly believe that he is innocent of any serious crime. He has promised me that he will tighten up his study habits, attend school every day, and stay away from the wrong crowd. I’m asking the court to trust me with this matter.”

  His words were solemn, and when he said “trust” everyone in the courtroom believed him.

  Judge Pendergrast scribbled some notes as he pondered the situation. He looked at Woody and said, “Okay, young man, I believe in second chances. I believe this was an honest oversight on your part. I want you and Major Ludwig to report to me at four o’clock every Monday afternoon and we’ll discuss your class attendance and your grades. In the meantime, your attorney will get to work on the charges filed against you. You are released on personal identification, no bail.”

  Woody looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  For the next two weeks, Woody managed to avoid another arrest. He didn’t miss a day of school, often arrived early and stayed late for extra study hall and tutoring. Tony, too, was back in school and putting more effort into his classwork.

  Jail was a place they preferred to avoid.

  Clifford Nance had the finest law office in Strattenburg. It occupied the top floors of an old building that was once the only bank in town, and from his large windows he looked down on the courthouse directly across the street. The Yancey River could be seen in the distance. Mr. Nance had bought the building years earlier and spent a lot of money renovating it. His firm had seven lawyers, it was the biggest in town. An elevator ran from the lobby straight to Mr. Nance’s suite.

  Rodney Wall had never been near the office, though, like most lawyers in town, he had heard descriptions of it. As a young, lowly paid assistant public defender, he dreamed of one day achieving the success of a big-time lawyer like Clifford Nance. He wanted a fancy office, big firm, fine home, foreign cars, the works. And he secretly dreamed of working for the Nance firm. His plan was to gut it out in the trenches of public defender warfare, gain some experience, perhaps start building a reputation, and then apply for an associate’s position with the firm. But then a lot of young lawyers in Strattenburg had the same dream.

  At the appointed hour, the hour suggested by Mr. Nance, Rodney rode the elevator to the top floor and was greeted by a pretty secretary who offered him coffee. Mr. Nance was on the phone and would be tied up for a moment. Rodney eased into a thick leather chair and admired the Persian rugs and modern art on the walls. He sipped his coffee and stared at his phone, as if he had matters that were far more important than the Lambert case. The secretary typed away. The phones rang occasionally. Finally, a large door opened and Mr. Nance himself stepped out. He waved Rodney into his massive office and pointed to a plush sofa. “Let’s sit over here,” he said, “and keep things casual.”

  “Sure,” Rodney said as he glanced around. Nance’s monument of a work desk was long and wide and appeared to be mahogany, though Rodney wasn’t sure. A few files were stacked neatly but for the most part the desk was bare, as if the great man lived an uncluttered life and was concentrating only on the case before him. A conference table with chairs occupied one corner. The walls were covered with paintings and portraits. Everything was neat and perfectly organized, which came as no surprise. Mr. Nance’s reputation was that of a trial lawyer who was always thoroughly prepared and organized.

  “Nice place you got here,” Rodney said as he sank into the sofa.

  “Oh, it’ll do,” Mr. Nance said. He wore a navy suit, crisp white shirt, perfectly knotted tie, expensive shoes, gold watch. Rodney thought to himself: He probably spends more on clothes in one year than I earn in salary.

  Mr. Nance said, “You know, Rodney, I started in the PD’s office thirty years ago. Back then we were in court every day, trying cases. The experience was incredible. How long you been there?”

  “A year.”

  “Monk’s a good man. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

  “So far so good.”

  Enough of the small talk. Mr. Nance cleared his throat as if it were time to move on. He was quite busy. “So, let’s talk about this case. The facts are straightforward. Three stupid kids riding around, drinking beer, nothing good was going to happen, right? But nobody got hurt. I mean, you know, it was only a water pistol, a toy. Garth, my client, still maintains that it belonged to the youngest boy—”

  “Woody. Woody Lambert. Age thirteen.”

  “Right. Woody and Tony, but I’m not sure that’s true.”

  “It’s not,” Rodney said, exerting himself. “It’s not true at all. Neither Tony nor Woody had ever seen the pistol before.”

  “Well, that’s what they say, and they are brothers, aren’t they?”

  “They are, but they seem to be telling the truth.”

  “No doubt. Look, Rodney, if we fight among ourselves, we all get hurt. I have a plan to get this case dismissed before the grand jury hands down an indictment against my client. Your clients, of course, are not facing indictment because they are minors. I believe I can convince Jack Hogan to cut us a deal and avoid serious charges for these boys. Of course, I’m deeply concerned about my client, Garth, because he is eighteen years old and is being treated like an adult. He’s not a bad kid, I assure you of that. Maybe a little immature, but he can outgrow that if he gets the right help. His parents are worried about his drinking and drugs, and he has agreed to submit himself to a treatment facility. This will be very important to Jack Hogan and Judge Gantry. The Tuckers are good people. Garth still plans to go to college. Can you imagine how a felony conviction will haunt him forever? No college. No job. No future.”

  “How do you avoid a felony?” Rodney asked.

  “Start with the gun. I don’t need to remind you how much Judge Gantry hates guns and violence. If we allow Woody, the thirteen-year-old, to claim ownership, then the gun loses some of its damage in circuit court. Sure Garth used it for the robbery. Sure that was a really dumb thing to do. But I’ll argue that he was not only drinking but already drunk, and thus wasn’t sure what he was doing. Woody produced the gun. All three boys were in on the robbery, all three need to be punished. But it’s imperative that we avoid a felony, here, Rodney. Are you with me?”

  “I get that, but how do you convince Jack Hogan to reduce the armed robbery?”

  “By begging. I’ll make a strong case that Garth is a good kid who was drunk, and that he was also misguided into believing you can’t pull a real robbery with a water pistol, and that nobody got hurt, and that he’s real sorry for his mistake, and he’ll agree to a few days in jail, two years of probation, a big fine, full restitution to the store, and a hundred hours of volunteer service. Anything to avoid the felony.”

  “And what about my clients?” />
  “Come on, Rodney, they’re juveniles. Different laws down there in that court. Your boys will get off with a slap on the wrist, a little probation, but nothing serious. Plus they will not have a criminal record.”

  “But they’re innocent, Mr. Nance.”

  “Just call me Clifford. And they’re not completely innocent. They were riding around drinking beer and looking for trouble and they found it. As I understand things, the Lambert boys come from a rough home and they’re having trouble at school. This true?”

  “That’s fair to say.”

  “Okay, so we take all three boys and we spread around the blame a little. Woody says he owned the gun. He and his brother say they were in on the decision to snatch some beer. Everybody’s real sorry and all and they’ve learned a valuable lesson.”

  “I’m not sure Woody and Tony will admit to anything except the beer. They have been pretty vocal in that they knew nothing about the robbery.”

  “That’s where you come in, Rodney. That’s what defense lawyers are for. You’ve got to convince them that all three must stick together and stick to one story. Trust me on this. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years and I’m very good at what I do. I know the judges and the prosecutors and they know me.”

  “Indeed they do.”

  “There’s a way out of this for all three boys, Rodney. We just need to use a bit of creative storytelling, let each boy take a bite of the blame, and everybody gets out in one piece.”

  Rodney took a sip of coffee and a deep breath. Clifford Nance was very persuasive but Rodney really didn’t appreciate being pressured by another lawyer. Not like this.

  Rodney asked, “What makes you so sure you can convince Jack Hogan to reduce the armed robbery to a misdemeanor?”

  Clifford offered a smug smile as if he knew everything. “Jack and I go way back. We’ve squared off in the courtroom many times. Murder trials, drug trials, you name it. We have great respect for each other, respect that has been earned. This is not a serious case, Rodney. This is the story of three boys out joyriding and doing something stupid. Again, nobody got hurt. I know Jack and I know I can convince him to back off and do Garth a favor. The Tuckers are nice people, unlike most of the criminal defendants Jack prosecutes. We just need for you to convince your clients to go along with our plan.”