Behind the Robe

by Barbara Sattler

  Lourdes wonders if the purpose of the long dress isn’t for court, but instead to hide bruises.

  “Where did you fall?”

  “Um, . . . yesterday I tripped.”

  “Crystal, I don’t believe you. I think someone hurt you. You’re not going to get into any trouble. Just tell us the truth.”

  “I told you the truth. I fell.”

  “Crystal, it’s not okay for anyone to hurt you. I’m going to adjourn court and delay your sentencing. Talk to Ms. Holman. We’ll put this on the calendar for 12:45 p.m. today. It’s the only time I have unless you resolve it earlier.” She nods at Crystal’s lawyer, “Call my chambers if you want an earlier time. Anyone have other business before I adjourn?”

  “Can I be excused from the hearing?” asks Louis Finley, the County Attorney. “I’ve made my recommendation and I have interviews in a murder case.”

  “That’s fine. If nothing else, Court will be adjourned.”

  Lourdes walks slowly into chambers. In her heart, she knows Crystal has been beaten by her boyfriend. She hopes her lawyer can get her to ‘fess up.

  “Becca, you did an excellent job on that Rule 32. The bad news is, I’ll be giving you more.”

  “Thanks, Judge. That poor girl.”

  “I know. I hope she confides in someone.”

  Lourdes goes into her office and begins perusing this afternoon’s drug court calendar. Mary buzzes, “Ms. Holman, PD’s office, Line 2.”

  “Hi, Carmen.”

  “Hi, Judge. You’re not going to believe this. We walked over to my office. Crystal cried all the way. I asked if she wanted a drink, she said yes. When I got back she was gone. I hurried outside, but didn’t see her. I think you’re right. She kept holding her stomach and moaning.”

  “I’ll set an Order to Show Cause hearing for 10:00 a.m. the following Monday. If she doesn’t show, I’ll have to issue a warrant. I hope she contacts you. Thanks.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit. Mary, Becca, come in here.”

  Both hurry in. Lourdes rarely cusses.

  “Crystal took off. Mary, prepare a minute entry setting an OSC for 10:00 a.m. next Monday. Becca, call Mr. Ronstadt and let him know what happened.”

  “Judge, excuse me, what’s an OSC?” asks Becca.

  “It’s an Order to Show Cause why the defendant shouldn’t, in this case, be held in custody for missing sentencing. Sometimes the order relates to not paying fees. It’s another way to get someone in court.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Crystal’s lawyer said she was holding her stomach. I wonder if she could be pregnant and that’s why her boyfriend beat her up?” Lourdes speaks, but is asking herself.

  The phone buzzes. Mary picks up.

  “Judge, I think your father-in-law’s on the phone. He’s very angry. Line 1.”

  Lourdes grimaces. Her father-in-law has never called her at work. Even at home usually her mother-in-law calls. Both speak English, but are embarrassed about their accents. Can Carlos be hurt? She closes her door.

  “Hola Padres-en-ley. Esta bien Carlos?” Lourdes asks.

  He spews out a torrent of Spanish she can hardly follow. Carlos had told him about the abortion decision. “Calm down, por favor.” She tries to explain, but he won’t let her. Finally he hangs up.

  Lourdes puts her head on her desk. She doesn’t cry. She just sits feeling empty. She remembers as a teenager, maybe age fifteen, writing Carlos’s name over and over. Mrs. Carlos Velasquez. Ms. Lourdes Leon Velasquez. I love Carlos. Te quiero Carlos. Carlos and Lourdes, no Lourdes and Carlos. She felt so proud going out with him. He was handsome and put her on a pedestal. Made her feel special. She thought they’d be together forever.

  Lourdes had agreed to marry him when she was in high school and never seriously reconsidered that decision. She had been young. Friends had told her to wait. “You change a lot between high school and college graduation.”

  Her Tia Gloria told her no one should marry before age thirty. “Men aren’t mature until then. If ever. The qualities you value in school aren’t what matter when you start a career and a family.” Only her Tia would put the word ‘career’ before ‘family.’

  She didn’t listen. She loved Carlos. He would always take care of her. What did her Tia know?

  It’s time to face facts. In the last few months, he’d hit her, stayed out all night, and told his family about her decision on the abortion case. That wasn’t all due to PTSD.

  What was that noise? “Come in, Becca.”

  “I brought you a sandwich. Staffing starts in fifteen.”

  THIRTY

  Drug Court staffing begins at noon in a small conference room that seems even smaller when Lourdes, the Drug Court coordinator, four probation officers, and two defense lawyers take their seats. An hour and a half to discuss sixty-plus men. To decide if they get praised or sanctioned. Men’s week takes longer. There are more men than women in Drug Court although she will find as time passes the numbers get closer.

  On the positive side, three men will be recommended for graduation. The first graduation Lourdes will preside over. She makes a note to arrange for a cake. Addicts are notorious for craving chocolate. Some counselors feel sweets aren’t a good idea. The clients overdo and can get hyper, but Lourdes is the ultimate decider. Cake. White with chocolate frosting. Her favorite. Might as well be since if there’s a cake she pays for it.

  On the negative side, many of the men aren’t doing well and the POs believe some won’t show. Drug Court can work with people who mess up, it’s expected, but not if they blow it off.

  Ron Reyes, a drug court PO, is quite concerned about Frank Viegas. Frank hasn’t dropped or gone to counseling since his last court date two weeks ago. Ron thinks Frank is Crystal’s boyfriend, that the two of them are somewhere using. He worries Frank has already hurt Crystal, and she will continue to be in danger as long as he’s high or, worse, if he needs a fix.

  Staffing finished in time for court. Lourdes’ brother had asked if he and Maricela could watch. Neither have ever been in a court. Staffing is confidential, but Drug Court is open to the public. Rarely does anyone show up unless a close family member is a Drug Court client.

  She’s glad Becca has brought her a bagel. Most Mondays she grabs an early lunch, but she has no time today. Morning court had lasted till 11:30 a.m. Crystal hadn’t shown up. Lourdes is feeling frazzled when she walks into Drug Court. Even so she senses an unusual tension. No one looks at her, whispered conversation. She can see her brother and Maricela in the back.

  “Court is in session, the Honorable Lourdes Velasquez presiding.” Becca says, so even those in the back can hear.

  Lourdes looks at the gallery. She estimates at least forty men are present. Some may come in later because of work schedules. Ages vary from eighteen to late fifties. Most are under thirty. Most clients are expected to show up for each court session. As they get clean, go to counseling and do whatever else the Court orders, they’re required to appear less often.

  Starting with those doing well, defendants are called up to the bench to speak with the judge. Their lawyer and PO are welcome to join them.

  “Francisco, Dennis and John, congratulations, you’re cleared to graduate.” Applause from the gallery. “The ceremony will be Friday the 29th at 3:00 p.m. We’ll see you then. Make sure you meet with your PO before you leave today.” More clapping. Some high fives. The three of them walk out, big smiles.

  It’s hard to graduate from Drug Court. Not just reading and passing tests. Not just being clean. You have to change your whole life. If you have friends they’re mostly dealers or other addicts. You have to stay away from them. If your significant other is using, you have to dump her. Some have been using drugs for thirty years, or more than half their life. They have no interests that don’t center on drug use. They have to find new ways to spend their time.<
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  Graduation is often the first time they have bought new clothes or gotten a haircut since high school. Most haven’t gotten acclamation since they took that first pill or put a needle in their arm. The lucky ones bring family. Many have no one. They burned all their bridges years ago.

  “Robert G., you’ve done well. All clean drops, perfect attendance at counseling. Keep up the good work. We’ll set your next court date a month away.”

  “Hector, come on up. You’ve earned your thirty day chip.” Hector saunters up slowly his pants loose and low. She hands him a chip. “Congratulations, see you in a month.” Hector walks back to his seat. Hector, with his gangster persona, has surprised everyone by starting out well.

  “Walter, you’re clean, but missed counseling twice. Anything you want to tell me?”

  “My car broke down. I couldn’t get anyone to take me. I got no money to fix it.”

  “Do you live on the bus line?”

  “Yup.”

  “Your PO can give you a bus pass. You need to go to all your counseling sessions until your next court appearance. No excuses. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Willie, come on up.” Willie is tall, thin and walks towards her like a dog expecting a beating. “Willie your test is positive for opioids and heroin.”

  “That’s impossible, I’m clean.”

  “Why do you think your test results are positive?”

  “I don’t know. My girlfriend and I’ve been fighting. Maybe she put drugs in my food.”

  The men in the gallery begin to laugh. “Come on man, that’s ridiculous,” someone yells.

  Lourdes loves it when the defendants do her job.

  A few minutes pass. “I guess I took some stuff.” His head hanging.

  “Okay, Willie. Drop today and three times a week until your next court date. Don’t miss any counseling either. I need to see improvement or you can expect a more serious sanction.”

  “I’ll do better judge. I promise.”

  And so it goes. Reactions vary between contrite and angry. She’s about to call the next case when Becca signals, time for the afternoon break. “Court will be adjourned until 3:30.”

  Usually Lourdes goes back to her chambers, eats a candy bar while she checks messages, signs letters. Instead she takes off her robe and walks towards her brother.

  “Hey, Sis, that was amazing. Wow. You seem like a real judge. Like on TV.”

  “That’s a compliment for sure. What else did you think?”

  “I don’t know where to start. I didn’t expect only men.”

  “If we separate the sexes court goes much smoother. Men and women together spend half their time flirting. For women, it’s easier for them to talk if it’s just females.”

  “That one guy. I forget his name. His pants were hanging off him and he looked like a gang-banger,” Maricela says.

  “I think you mean Hector.”

  “Yeah, he got a 30 day chip. It was cool. He looked scary as he walked up, but when you gave him the chip he couldn’t help but get this big smile on his face. He was proud.”

  “Are the chips for being clean?” Steve asks.

  “Yeah, we have chips for 30, 60, 90 days, six months, and a year.”

  “Maricela and I have to leave at 4:00 p.m. Thanks for letting us come—Your Honor.” They all laugh.

  Lourdes realizes there isn’t time to go back to chambers. She puts her robe back on and is about to take the bench when the Drug Court coordinator walks over looking like he wishes he were anywhere else.

  “Judge, bad news. I just found out that Danny Jackson,” Lourdes has a blank look on her face, “you know the kid who was busted for heroin at Foothills High last year, really thin, blonde.”

  “Yeah, I know who you mean,” says Lourdes, a bad feeling coming over her.

  “He committed suicide yesterday. Hung himself.”

  Lourdes gasped. Oh, my God. Is this partially my fault? Should I have paid more attention to him? Realized something was the matter? “What do we do now? Should I say anything?”

  “I think so. You know how word spreads in here. Maybe some of them know. There’s been tension in the air.”

  “I felt it too,” says Lourdes. “I’m going to take five.” Lourdes hurries into her chambers, closes the door.

  Becca, the Drug Court coordinator, and a couple of POs follow Lourdes. Becca waits a minute and taps on her door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes, but no one else.”

  “I heard what happened, Judge, that’s horrible. He was so young.”

  “Nineteen, I think. Tell everyone to go back to the courtroom. I need a few minutes alone.” Becca walks out. Lourdes goes into her bathroom and washes her face. She feels sick.

  Danny was just a kid. I should’ve talked to him more, realized he was in trouble. I hardly remember him. Just one of the crowd. Maybe I’m not cut out for this job? Maybe his counselor or PO should have known something was amiss? His lawyer? Lourdes looks in the mirror. The buck stops here.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Lourdes doesn’t want to go home to an empty house. She doesn’t want to see friends. She wants Carlos. She wants him to comfort her. Maybe Rick’s right and she’s the one who’s hard to live with. Maybe she should try to change? She texts him. Dinner out?

  Much to her surprise he texts right back. Great, where? And before she can reply: El Charro.

  They agree to meet at 6:30 p.m. Carlos can’t get off work before 6:00 p.m. Lourdes hurries home, showers. Puts on the blue and purple dress Carlos likes with the earrings he bought her. As she dresses she feels happier than in a long time. Maybe if I act like a wife, things will be better. Maybe we can work things out.

  Lourdes arrives a few minutes early. She makes sure they have a table in the back. Carlos arrives a few minutes later. He’s changed out of his uniform into a shirt she bought him and jeans.

  They order their usual favorites. Carlos orders a margarita, Lourdes declines. When the server leaves he turns to Lourdes, “This will be the only one.”

  Lourdes hopes that will be true, but says nothing. “What’d you think of Maricela?”

  “She’s cute. How’d your brother manage to snag her?” He pauses, looks shamefaced. “That’s horrible. I snagged you.” Lourdes doesn’t laugh. “I’m kidding. They seem like a good match. Your mom’s happy. Looks like both her kids will be married to Mexicans.”

  “She’s happy. She was already taking about . . . their wedding.”

  Carlos looks at her. “That’s not what you were going to say. She’s talking about being a grandma.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” Lourdes waits for him to talk about her getting pregnant, but to her surprise he doesn’t go there.

  “How was your day?” he asks instead?

  “Sad. One of the young men in Drug Court committed suicide.”

  “What happened?”

  “He started using heroin in high school. Was only in drug court a few months. A couple of clean drug tests, but he started using again. I wish I’d been more concerned about him. I wasn’t even sure who he was.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. People have to make their own choices.”

  “Suicide doesn’t just affect him. His family. The counselors who tried to help him must feel awful. The other people in Drug Court.”

  “More ice tea, water?” the server asks.

  “No, thanks.”

  “The Drug Court coordinator told me that if one person commits suicide, others often do.”

  “Same as in the service. We had training about suicide. They said once someone close to you dies by their own hand, you realize it’s a possibility for you. I’m not sure I get it.”

  “Me either. But I’ve heard that too.”

  “Did he shoot himself?”

 
“No, he hung himself.” She shudders.

  “If someone wants to die or hurt someone they find a way. That’s why gun control doesn’t matter.”

  Lourdes doesn’t agree, but the last thing she wants is to get into an argument with Carlos. He never got a gun safe. He never will. Maybe she should accept that. He’s careful with his gun.

  The waitress brings their order. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Lourdes waits for Carlos to order another margarita, but he doesn’t.

  “It’s a long time since we had a dinner like this,” says Carlos.

  “Yes, we ought to do it more often.”

  “How’s Molly and that guy doing?”

  “He’s a jerk. I hope it doesn’t last too long. Did I tell you she got a dog?”

  “ A lab?”

  “Yeah, named Toby. She’s adorable.”

  “Would you like to get a dog?”

  “Yes. We had them when I was growing up, but I’m not sure it’s fair to have one when no one’s home all day. It’d probably get lonesome.”

  The two of them continue to eat and talk. Lourdes feels the tension draining away. This is the Carlos I’ve known since forever. What’s been wrong with us?

  They finish eating. Carlos signals for the bill. “You might as well leave. I’ll pay and see you at home.”

  Lourdes drives home feeling hopeful.

  As she walks into the dark house she thinks how nice it’d be to have a dog to welcome you. Not a Lab, a smaller dog to sit on your lap, and that would be easy to take places. Maybe she should start researching different breeds? Or maybe just go to the Humane Society. She walks to the mailbox. Puts the mail on the kitchen table to look at later. She’s brushing her teeth when Carlos arrives. She hears him shuffling papers.

  “Lourdes, I think the decision on my appeal is here.”

  Lourdes’ anxiety skyrockets. She washes her face and walks into the living room. Carlos is sitting in a chair with a letter on his lap. Lourdes looks at the official Army letterhead and thinks Carlos is probably right. Both sit there and stare at the envelope.

  Lourdes is ready to tell Carlos to open it when the phone rings.