Frank made a fake bow and sat down.
Scott took out his copy of the sheet Kay had given him about the regional competition.
“The first team we’ll face is from one of the expensive private schools in Charlotte. Their advisor is a lawyer who works for a big firm in the Bank of America tower. He went to Duke Law School; I went to Wake Forest. We were on opposing teams in a mock trial competition my third year in law school. It was the southeast regionals, and the winning team would advance to the national finals in Washington, D.C.”
“Who won?” Yvette asked.
“Duke. But it was a controversial decision. Two of the three judges were Duke graduates and the other went to Chapel Hill. Our team had beaten UNC the previous round and that didn’t make their alumni happy.”
“Who cares about that stuff?” Frank asked.
Scott ignored Frank’s question. “I want us to do well because it’s the right thing to do, but I couldn’t help thinking about the past when I saw the other lawyer’s name. I’d like to beat them.”
“We’ll do it, coach!” Dustin called out. “Bring ’em on!”
Scott smiled. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Frank continued the evening in rare form, while Scott seethed about the student’s opening salvo of the evening.
“Wouldn’t it be better to object to the testimony by Billy Bob on the grounds that it calls for a conclusion not supported by sufficient opportunity to observe what happened?” Frank asked. “It says in the rule book that all opinion testimony must be based on facts in evidence.”
“No,” Scott replied. “As a lay witness, Billy Bob is not offering an expert opinion about the cause of the wreck. He’s just telling what he saw.”
“But it would have been impossible for him to see the vehicles before the collision. The facts state that he was getting a pack of chewing tobacco from the glove compartment.”
“That goes to the weight of the evidence, not its admissibility. You should certainly cross-examine Billy Bob about his ability or inability to observe what happened. The judge or jury decides what to believe.”
“Are you going to let a jury decide whether Lester Garrison should go to the chain gang?” Frank asked, then quickly added before Scott could respond, “I know, I know. Attorney-client privilege. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut. Like a real lawyer.”
Frank’s attitude was affecting the other students, and there was tension in the circle of would-be attorneys. Janie didn’t say anything. Yvette wasn’t as reticent.
“Why don’t you stuff it, Frank?” she said at one point after Frank had monopolized the discussion and cut her off. “This is a mock trial team, not the Frank Jesup show.”
“That’s a well-phrased objection,” he responded. “Why don’t you try it out in the competition? ‘Stuff it, your honor.’”
Scott didn’t interrupt. The kids needed to vent.
“She’s right, Frank,” Dustin said. “You don’t have a clue about teamwork. You may end up being one of the best lawyers in the competition, but if our team doesn’t flow together, the judges will notice it and deduct points.”
“This isn’t a football game,” Frank retorted.
“But we still need to look out for each other,” Janie added. “You’ve helped me a lot, and we’re not your enemies. You’re coming across so angry that it’s going to hurt our chances.”
Frank glared around the circle. Scott watched him. The young man was seemingly immune from peer influence, but Janie’s comment had an effect.
Frank chose to disengage. “Whatever. We’re wasting time.”
They continued the session, but the situation wasn’t resolved. Frank refused to contribute, and Scott decided it was Frank’s way of trying to silently manipulate the other students into admitting they were wrong. It didn’t work. When they realized Frank had checked out of the meeting, the remaining three members began working together. Frank became invisible.
When it was time to end the meeting, Scott turned to Frank and asked, “Could you stay for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you.”
Frank shook his head. “No, I don’t have time for a lecture.”
Scott didn’t give up. “Not a lecture, a talk.”
“It’s not necessary.”
The young man turned toward the door. On his way out of the room he stopped for a second to say something to Janie, then left the room alone.
Kay came over to Scott and asked, “How did it go?”
“Let’s talk after the students leave.”
Janie left with Alisha. When the last student filed out, Scott sat down in front of Kay’s desk.
“Frank was dominating the meeting by arguing with me and cutting off the others when they tried to say something. I asked him to stay for a few minutes so we could talk. He refused and walked out of the room. His attitude stinks.”
“I heard one of his other teachers give it a name the other day in the faculty lounge. She called it the ‘Frank Factor.’ He causes a different kind of disruption. Usually, the behavior problems in class come from students who don’t know what’s going on academically and cut up to pass the time. Frank already knows everything, so he harasses the teacher to entertain himself. You’re a new challenge because as a lawyer you’re smarter than the rest of us.”
“Right,” Scott said wryly. “Whatever his motivation, he’s challenged the wrong person. I’m thinking about kicking him off the team. The kids made a good point. He’s not a team player.”
Surprised, Kay said, “That’s pretty drastic. I’m not sure he’s done anything to justify it. What would I tell Dr. Lassiter if Frank’s father complains?”
“Tell him to call me. I’ll give them an earful.”
Kay shook her head. “What he said about Lester’s case was wrong, but that’s not enough to remove him from the program. This is a public school, and we can’t pick and choose our students.”
Scott leaned forward. “That’s true for a math class he has to take for graduation, but belonging to the mock trial team is a privilege, not a right.”
“But the response should be to help him. Have you considered trying to spend time with him after class? Not to chew him out but to say something positive.”
“No,” Scott admitted.
“But don’t try to help him out of guilt,” Kay added. “Do it because you want to. Like one of the good coaches who influenced you in school.”
“I had some decent coaches and some horrible coaches.”
Kay looked straight into Scott’s eyes. “You’re the only coach in Frank’s life. What kind of coach are you going to be?”
Scott tapped his fingers on the desk. Kay was right.
“Do you remember Coach Lockhart?” he asked. “He was the defensive coach for the football team my junior and senior years.”
“The bald man with the big nose?”
“Yeah. And forearms like Popeye. If a player didn’t demonstrate a commitment to his teammates, he ran wind sprints after practice until he understood the concept.”
Kay smiled. “Frank needs to run wind sprints.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
They walked outside together. It was a clear night, but the security light near the corner of the trailer kept the stars hidden. Scott took a deep breath.
“Great camping weather,” he said. “When you get away from streetlights, you can see hundreds of stars.”
“Don’t the trees block the view?”
“Not where I’m taking you,” he responded. “We’ll camp in a small open field by the stream. You can count stars until you’re drowsy, then go to sleep with the sound of water gurgling over rocks in your ears.”
“I haven’t accepted your invitation.”
“Is there anything else I can say to persuade you?”
Kay smiled. “No, but we have to go as friends.”
“I wouldn’t want to take an enemy into the woods. That would be dangerous.”
“And I’ll be safe with you
?”
Scott looked in her eyes. “Yes.”
The following morning, Scott was sitting at his desk thinking about how to reach out to Frank Jesup. Swiveling in his chair, he faced his computer and typed the password for the legal research database used by the firm. The query screen popped up, and he entered the key words he wanted to research. After forty-five minutes of browsing, he’d printed fifty pages of single-spaced information from four separate articles. He stacked the sheets neatly on his desk. They should be sufficient for at least one good workout. Coach Lockhart would be proud. He called and left a message on Kay’s voice mail at the school.
“I have an idea about Frank Jesup. Ask him to come thirty minutes early to the meeting tomorrow night.”
When Scott arrived, Frank was waiting. The student was coolly congenial. Kay made an excuse to leave the trailer.
“I located some articles from legal journals about serving as lead counsel in complex litigation,” Scott said. “When there is more than one lawyer in a case, it takes coordination to take advantage of the differences in skills and aptitudes of the people involved. Our case isn’t particularly complex, but I’d like you to look them over and give me your ideas about implementing some of the suggestions for the lawyers on the team.”
“Are they going to read the articles, too?” Frank asked.
“No,” Scott said simply.
He didn’t want to flatter Frank, just inform him.
“Write down your thoughts, so you and I can discuss it.”
Frank didn’t protest. “Okay.”
Scott had thought Frank would put up more of a fight. He was suddenly at a loss for words and looked questioningly at the young man. In the constant activity of the mock trial practices, Scott had never really thought of Frank except as an intelligent student with a sarcastic mouth. He now saw him as a seventeen-year-old boy whose parents were splitting up. For all Scott knew, Frank blamed himself for his family’s problems.
“How are you doing?” he asked more softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Uh, in school?”
“I make straight As.”
“That’s good. If you do well in college, you could go to law school.”
The patronizing look returned to Frank’s face. “Should that be my goal in life? To be a lawyer?”
Scott bristled. “I’m just letting you know you can be anything you want in life.”
“I doubt you’d understand what I think about life. I’ve taken the next step beyond Darwin. It’s not survival of the fittest, but choosing when and how you want to die. That’s the next step in human evolution.”
Frank was right. Scott didn’t understand. He voiced his immediate reaction.
“That’s morbid.”
“No, it’s mortal,” Frank replied. “If you’re honest about it, life is a game. My goal is to set my own rules and end it on terms of my own choosing.”
“The world out there will make that hard to do. Society sets the rules.”
Frank smiled, but it wasn’t a happy look.
“I accept the challenge, and we’ll see who wins.”
Scott stood up. “Why don’t you look over the articles until the others get here?”
“Okay.”
While Frank read, Scott walked outside to get a breath of fresh air. Someone with more skills than he needed to help Frank Jesup.
When the other students arrived, they did a simulated trial of the whole case. Scott hadn’t worked with the witnesses in several sessions, and he was pleased with their progress. There was a good smattering of humor, and it had the flavor of make-believe that the judges would enjoy without turning a mock trial into a mockery.
Scott looked at the clock on the back wall. The session had zipped by.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”
When the room was clear, Kay turned to Scott.
“How was your time with Frank?” she asked.
Scott shook his head. “He’s going to read the information I gave him, but our conversation didn’t go anywhere. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“I’m sure he’s upset about his parents breaking up.”
“I guess, but he also has a fixation about controlling his own death.”
“His death! Do you think he’s suicidal?”
Scott mentally replayed what he could remember of their conversation.
“Possibly. If he were my kid, I’d have him in counseling or on medication.”
Kay looked troubled. “It’s always hard to decide what to do when a student is depressed. You don’t want to be an alarmist, and you don’t want to miss a warning that might help avoid a more serious problem.”
“I don’t know about Frank,” Scott replied. “Would it do any good to contact one of his parents?”
“Only if they see a problem, too. If they don’t believe there is a problem, they resent the suggestion. A lot of parents know their child needs help, but it takes a confirmation from someone like a teacher to get the ball rolling.”
“I’d say Frank is already a loose cannon,” Scott said.
“I’ll think about it.”
They walked outside together. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Scott said, “Before you leave, I have something for you to read.”
“Do I need my red pen?” Kay asked.
“No.”
Scott returned from his vehicle with a sheet of paper.
“How does this sound? ‘I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.’”
“That’s taken.”
Scott handed her the paper. “Okay, then something more practical. It’s a list of stuff you might want to bring on the camping trip.”
She read it over and said, “It’s fine as far as it goes.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are other things I need to take.”
“Remember we’re carrying everything on our backs,” Scott warned. “It’s only one night, and we don’t want to take unnecessary stuff.”
“I know.” She patted his arm. “But you’re strong.”
36
When you come to a fork in the road, take it.
YOGI BERRA
Scott went downstairs to Mr. Humphrey’s office. “It’s Friday, and I haven’t heard from Lester or Harold Garrison,” he said. “What do you think I should do about cousin Kendall?”
Mr. Humphrey leaned back in his chair.
“Let’s talk about your options.”
Scott held up one finger. “I could do nothing and try the case on the theory that the wrong person is on trial.”
“Were you happy with that approach before you found out about Kendall?”
“Mostly. It fits with the testimony from the other witnesses and keeps Lester from committing perjury.” He held up a second finger. “Two, I can try to locate Kendall without the help of my client and find out what I can from him or about him. If he is willing to confess to the crime, Lester is off the hook.”
“How would you convince him to do that?”
Scott held up his fist. “Would this work?”
“Let’s eliminate coercion as a method of investigation.”
Scott continued, “I could uncover something about Kendall that would convince Lester to tell the truth about his cousin’s involvement. If this information is corroborated, it might even convince the D.A. to drop the case without going to trial.”
“Would you be happy with that result?”
Scott wanted to try the case, but he knew a voluntary dismissal was the best immediate solution for Lester.
“Yes. Lester goes free, and I can come back to the office to work on commercial leases for Mr. Jackson. Everybody is happy except Kendall and me.”
“Any other options?”
Scott thought a moment. “I contact Kendall. He calls the Garrisons. They get mad at me for violating their instructions to leave him out of the case.”
“Do you have to limit your investigation if that�
�s what your client wants?”
“Yes. My job is to zealously represent my client, but that can be modified if he doesn’t want the help. People on death row drop their appeals all the time.”
Mr. Humphrey raised his left eyebrow. “Have you considered any other reasons why the Garrisons do not want you to contact Kendall?”
Suddenly, it hit Scott. “They’re afraid of him.”
Mr. Humphrey nodded. “Harold is an overweight truckdriver, and Lester is a skinny teenager. All we know about Kendall is that he has dark hair. He could be a very dangerous individual.”
Scott nodded. “So, I stay with option one.”
Mr. Humphrey shook his head. “No, you try to find out everything you can about Kendall without revealing the reason for your interest. Then we’ll decide what to do next.”
Early Saturday morning, Scott laid two backpacks and small piles of other camping paraphernalia on the floor of the living room. A curious Nicky walked around sniffing everything. Scott’s hands had touched everything, but there were other scents of unknown origin that the little dog couldn’t identify—wild smells more earthy than the occasional whiff of rabbit or squirrel he’d get in the backyard. “We’re going camping,” Scott said. “With Kay. Do you remember her?” Nicky’s tail curled in a natural question mark as he wagged it.
“I’ll probably do some fishing, too.”
Scott went outside and returned in a few moments with a slender fiberglass rod. He set it down on the floor for Nicky’s inspection. The little dog started at the bottom and followed his nose up to the tip of the rod. The smells at the end of the stick were very strong. Nicky barked.
“That’s right. Trout. If I could train you to smell rainbow trout in the water and tell me where to fish, we’d become famous. Scott Ellis and his fish-finding dog, Nicky.”
It was a foggy morning. Scott loaded everything in the back of his SUV, then phoned Kay to make sure she was awake.
“For minutes and minutes,” she answered with a yawn.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, my steamer trunk is packed.”
“Okay, we’re leaving now.”
The Sacrifice Page 32