The Sacrifice

by Robert Whitlow

  “Yes.”

  “They used to say each twirl equaled five years in the penitentiary.”

  Mr. Humphrey looked over at the bookcase beside his desk. “Are you up to date on criminal procedure, including the discovery rules?”

  “I’m getting there, but the practical aspects of the case have me worried. I don’t want to overlook something basic because of my inexperience.”

  “Hmm.” The older lawyer reached for the daily calendar he kept in a leather binder on his desk and turned the page to the following day. “I was planning on taking a day off tomorrow to go fishing on Lake Norman, but the fish never bite when I play hooky from work. If you want, I’ll help you out. You’ve carried my briefcase during a few trials. Now, it’s time for me to carry yours. Copy the file, and I’ll review it before court in the morning.”

  Scott walked upstairs to his office. Leland Humphrey was a wise mentor. He’d let Scott enter dangerous and unknown territory, then reached out and offered a helping hand. At 11 A.M. Scott’s stomach growled. He’d skipped breakfast in order to get to the office earlier. His stomach rumbled again, and his phone buzzed.

  “Kay Wilson on line six.”

  Scott picked up the receiver. “How are you?”

  “Okay. I’m calling between classes. Do you have any time to get together and talk before we meet with the team tonight?”

  Scott looked at his calendar. “I’m busy all afternoon.”

  “Me, too, but on Thursdays I can take a full hour for lunch because it includes my planning period. If you come by the school at noon, we can eat in the faculty dining room.”

  Scott swallowed. Another meal at the school. “Could we go off campus?”

  “I don’t have time for that. I’m sorry, if you can’t—”

  “No,” Scott said. “I can make it. Do you want me to come to your trailer?”

  “No, I’ll meet you at the office. You’ll need to sign in when you get here.”

  Thursday’s menu featured tacos with applesauce and carrot cake. Scott hadn’t eaten applesauce in years. He considered it an appropriate food only for those too young to have teeth or too old to keep them.

  “They normally give two tacos,” Kay said as they stood in line, “but I can ask them to give you an extra one.”

  “No, I’m not too hungry today. But an extra scoop of applesauce sounds nice.”

  Kay didn’t catch the irony in Scott’s voice and spoke to the kitchen worker behind the counter. “Please give him extra applesauce.”

  Scott followed Kay to the same dining room where he’d eaten with Dr. Lassiter. The applesauce was runny. It had spilled over the divider in his plate and come to rest against the shell of one of his tacos. If he didn’t eat the taco soon, it would start to get soggy and fall apart.

  They ate at a table for two. Several teachers glanced up when he entered the room.

  Scott leaned forward and whispered, “Where’s Mrs. Willston?”

  Kay smiled. “She doesn’t come in here very often. I think she brings fruit from home and eats it in her classroom.”

  “This applesauce would be perfect for her.”

  “There’s Mr. Fletchall.” Kay motioned toward a short, heavyset man with only a few strands of hair clinging to the sides of his head. “Were you in his trigonometry class?”

  Scott turned his head slightly to get a better look. “For one semester. What happened to his hair?”

  “It’s been subtracted. Do you want to go over and say something to him?”

  “He wouldn’t recognize me with my eyes open. I slept through most of his classes.”

  Scott rescued his taco from the onslaught of the runaway applesauce and took a bite. It wasn’t too bad.

  “I’ve talked with the students who came to the meeting,” Kay began. “All but two said they were coming back.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s your plan for tonight?” she asked.

  Scott didn’t have one. He’d been too busy at the office to think about the meeting but quickly improvised: “Do you think the students have read the facts of the case and looked over the witnesses’ statements?”

  “Yes. I’ve heard them discussing it among themselves.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to them for a few minutes and then assign them different roles. Everyone will be a witness, and I’ll do the questioning. I should be able to tell who would be good in a role by their responses to my questioning.”

  “Would it help if I told you some of my thoughts about the kids before you hold tryouts?”

  “Sure.”

  “Of course, you remember Dustin.” Kay opened a folder and started with additional information about the football player. She continued summarizing what she knew about the strengths and weaknesses of each student. While she talked, Scott finished his tacos and chased down as much of his applesauce as he could capture with his spoon. He couldn’t put faces with all the names.

  “Is Yvette Fisher the one with dark hair and big, innocent eyes?” he asked.

  “No, that’s probably Janie Collins. She’s a country girl who needs a double dose of confidence. She is one of my best students but doesn’t realize how bright she is. Next is Alisha Mason.”

  “Yes,” Scott nodded. “The tall, black girl.”

  “That’s right. Her mother is assistant principal of the middle school. Alisha turned me down when I first talked with her, but I guess she’s changed her mind. She always has a lead role in school plays and would be great in an important witness role. She and Janie are good friends, so it would be good for them to work together.” Checking her list, Kay said, “One more student. Franklin Jesup.”

  “That’s one I remember. He must be a speed-reader. He had questions about the materials by the end of the first meeting.”

  “Frank probably has one of the highest IQs in the school. His father is a business executive, and they live in a big house on the golf course. Frank is a little moody, but he’s probably bored and unchallenged. I’m hoping he will respond to you since you’re a lawyer.”

  Without a weather report, a gathering storm isn’t seen until dark clouds billow on the horizon. The plans of darkness for Catawba High School were not yet visible, and no one was available to forecast the future. The clear lines of demarcation that characterize spiritual conflict in the heavens are often blurred and fuzzy by the time they reach the earth. No one knew about the darkness beyond the horizon. No one knew how soon or how quickly it would grow and take shape. No one knew that random relationships held the potential for extraordinary significance. No one knew that choices made in the present would have exponential importance in the future.

  9

  They have no lawyers among them.

  SIR THOMAS MORE, “OF LAW AND MAGISTRATES”

  The second meeting of the Catawba Mock Trial Team began that evening at 7 P.M. Janie Collins, Dustin Rawlings, and Alisha Mason were present. The first time Kay passed around an attendance sheet, Frank Jesup wasn’t in the room, but two minutes later his tires squealed outside as he parked beside the modular unit.

  Scott pointed to a slender, brown-haired girl with high eyebrows who was sitting very straight and attentive in her chair. “Your name, please?”

  “Yvette Fisher.”

  “Please stand up.”

  Yvette slid out of her seat.

  “Have you read the materials?” Scott asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Including the witness statements?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. You are no longer Yvette. You are now Betty Moonbeam.”

  Yvette looked puzzled. “The passenger in the car? I thought it was Barry Moonbeam?”

  “The rules of the competition do not dictate the gender of the witnesses. We may use Barry; we may use Betty.”

  Yvette stood up a little straighter and said, “Okay, I’m Betty Moonbeam.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Frank Jesup said as he slid into his seat.

  “No comment
s,” Scott said. “You’ll regret it when it’s your turn.” He turned back to Yvette.

  “Betty, you are now under oath. Did you go to an end-of-the-year cookout and picnic at Sarah Rich’s house?”

  “Uh, yes. I was there.”

  “How did you get to the party?”

  “I think I went with Ralph Risky.”

  “How do you know Ralph?”

  “We go to school together.” Yvette hesitated. “But I’m not sure how we know one another.”

  “Make something up,” Scott said.

  Yvette thought for a moment. “Okay. He plays football, and I’m on the flag corps that performs at halftime.”

  “Good,” Scott said. “You added facts about the witnesses not on your sheet. That’s fine if it doesn’t affect the important points of the problem. The judges like creative witnesses so long as they don’t cross the line into creating facts that affect the legal issues in the case.”

  “Are you dating Ralph?” Scott asked.

  “No, we’re just friends. I needed a ride to the party because my parents took away my driving privileges.”

  Scott acted surprised. “Why did they do that?”

  “I’ve had a few wrecks recently.”

  “How many is a few?”

  Yvette looked around as if embarrassed and answered in a quiet voice, “Five.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “Five—since January,” she said a little louder. A few students laughed.

  “Were they all your fault?”

  Yvette nodded. “Yes,” then she added quickly, “but no one was hurt, and I promised my dad that I would be careful. I cried and begged, but he told me I couldn’t drive again until I went to the Fender Bender Driving School and passed their safe driver test.”

  “Have you taken the course?”

  “I was supposed to start during summer vacation, but I was in no shape to drive after the night of the party. I think I was still in the hos- pital.” Yvette stopped. “Can I look at my sheet? I can’t remember that part.”

  “I’ll give you a break while I talk to Ralph for a minute.”

  Scott scanned the room. Most of the boys slid a little lower in their seats. Scott decided it was time to give Frank the spotlight he seemed to crave. “Frank Jesup, you’re Ralph. Please stand up. I remind you that you are under oath.”

  Frank slid out of his chair and stood. “Which do you want? The truth, the whole truth, or nothing but the truth?”

  “All of the above, within the guidelines of the problem.”

  Frank continued. “Why are the names in the case so corny? Betty Moonbeam, Sarah Rich, Ralph Risky?”

  “It’s often that way,” Scott replied. “Even in law-school competitions the professors who write the case histories do the same thing.”

  “I don’t want to look like an idiot spouting these names.”

  Scott resisted an urge to tell Frank to sit down until he could cooperate.

  “Don’t worry, Ralph. You’ll get used to it. Now, tell me, how did you and Betty decide to go to the party together?”

  Frank stroked his chin. “I’d been wanting to spend some time with her. A lot of time if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you phone her and invite her to ride with you?”

  “No, she called me. Not that I was too surprised. She told me about the problems with her father and the car, but I think it was all an excuse to spend some time alone with me.”

  “Over my dead body,” Yvette said.

  “No comments,” Scott said. “I told Frank to be quiet while you were on the witness stand.”

  Frank cut his eyes toward Yvette and said, “You should have seen the dress she was wearing. When she sat down in my car—”

  “Don’t go there,” Kay interrupted.

  “Okay. I picked her up about eleven-thirty in the morning for the cookout at Sarah’s house.”

  “Had you had anything to drink before you got there?”

  “Moi?” Frank asked. “I don’t drink anything but bottled water and Cheerwine.”

  “Does Cheerwine contain any alcohol?”

  “You’re from North Carolina, aren’t you? Cheerwine is like a Cherry Coke. It’s bottled in Salisbury.”

  “I know that,” Scott answered. “I used to ride my bike to Barnett’s Grocery in the summer to buy a cold Cheerwine. But in a competition you might be in front of judges from someplace who’ve never heard of Cheerwine. The lawyer questioning the witness needs to make sure any uncertainties are cleared up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t have any alcohol in your system when you and Betty started for the party?”

  “Positive.”

  “Any drugs?”

  “Not even a Tylenol.”

  “How far is it from Betty’s house to Sarah’s place?”

  “About five miles. Sarah’s house overlooks a pond and the seventeenth green of the, uh”—Frank thought for a second—“the Maurice Mulligan Memorial Golf Course.”

  Scott smiled. “Now that’s corny.”

  “Yeah, can I change that?”

  “No. Let’s have a different Betty take up the story.” Scott spoke to the group. “We’re jumping around tonight so as many of you as possible can see what it’s like to be a witness. In a minute, I may ask one of you to be an attorney.” He pointed to Alisha Mason who stood up. “Alisha, right?”

  The tall, dark-skinned girl nodded.

  “Have you read the materials?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. You’re in the car with Ralph. Were you concerned about Ralph’s driving on the way to the party?”

  Alisha looked at Frank. “He drove too fast and had his music turned up loud. I think he was trying to show off, but he didn’t do anything crazy or wild.”

  “Were you worried about your safety?”

  “No. I was looking forward to the party.”

  “When did you arrive?”

  “It’s about ten minutes from my house to Sarah’s place so we got there about eleven forty-five.”

  “Had the party started?”

  “Not really. I wanted to be early so I could help Sarah with the last-minute preparations.”

  “What did you do?”

  Alisha counted on her fingers. “Cut up some fruit. Heated some nacho sauce in the microwave. Popped some popcorn. Put some drinks and ice on a table in the downstairs recreation room.”

  “What kind of drinks?”

  “Mostly Cheerwine.”

  Several students laughed.

  Scott smiled. “I haven’t had a Cheerwine in years. Was there a punch bowl at the party?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t help with that.”

  “Who fixed the punch?”

  “Some of the guys. I think Ralph helped.” Alisha paused. “I can’t remember the other character’s name. Bill or Bob?”

  “Billy Bob Beerbelly.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What kind of punch was it?”

  “Ginger ale, fruit juice, and scoops of rainbow sherbet floating in it.”

  “Nonalcoholic?”

  “I thought so. But now, I’m not sure.”

  “Let’s ask Joe about it.” Scott pointed to a tall, slender young man with a slightly pointed nose and light brown hair. “Your name, please.”

  “Kenny.” The student’s ears turned suddenly red, and Scott realized he’d found a shy student in the group.

  “Would you like to be Joe Joker for a few minutes?”

  “I guess so.” The lanky boy stood up. “But I’m not very good at telling jokes.”

  “Can you tell me about the punch served at the party?” Scott asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was there anything in it besides ginger ale, fruit juice, and rainbow sherbet?”

  “Yes, sir.” The ears turned red again.

  “What else?”

  “Uh, we spiked it with vodka.”

  “W
ho did it?”

  “Ralph and me.”

  “Who brought the vodka to the party?”

  “Ralph brought it. It was in the trunk of his car. I went with him to get it after he and Betty got there.”

  “Were you present when it was poured into the punch?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Scott again addressed the group as a whole. “What kind of question did I just ask?”

  Dustin Rawlings raised his hand. “The kind that’s supposed to make the witness look guilty.”

  “An incriminating question,” Scott replied. “Possibly. But I was thinking of something more basic.”

  “A leading question,” Frank said.

  “That’s right,” Scott said. “A question that contains the answer. The witness either says ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ If Joe Joker was one of my witnesses in the case, the lawyer on the other side will object if I ask too many leading questions. How could I change my question about Joe’s presence at the punch bowl so that it would no longer be a leading question?”

  Janie Collins, who had been sitting on the edge of her chair, raised her hand. “You could ask, ‘Who was at the punch bowl when the liquor was poured into it?’”

  “Exactly,” Scott said. “You only have five to seven minutes to question a witness in a mock trial competition and every question needs to bring out as much information as possible.”

  Scott motioned to Janie. “It’s Janie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Janie, you are now the lawyer questioning Joe Joker. Take over.”

  Janie’s face flushed slightly. “What am I supposed to ask?”

  “Are you familiar with the facts?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Try to get Joe to reveal important information based on the materials you’ve been given. You can use the sheet to help you remember.”

  Janie turned toward Kenny. “Who was at the punch bowl when the liquor was poured in?”

  “Ralph and me.”

  Janie paused. “What happened next?”