The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction

by Teresa Burrell

  Sabre reached her hand out. “Hi. I’m Sabre Brown. I’m Bailey’s attorney. Do you mind giving me a minute of your time?”

  “I’ve already told your investigator everything I know.”

  Sabre pointed to the chairs on the porch. “Can we sit for a minute? I really need your help to protect Bailey. I think she’s in a lot of trouble.”

  Shellie took a seat and Sabre followed her. “But I don’t know anything. I don’t know where she is,” Shellie continued to object.

  “I believe you don’t know where she is, but I also know you’ve been in contact with her. Have you spoken to her recently?”

  “No. The last couple of times I tried to call her I got a weird message. I think she’s out of minutes.”

  “You two have been friends for a really long time, haven’t you?”

  Shellie nodded her head. “We met in fifth grade. I had just moved to a new school. At recess some of the kids teased me about being fat. I just stood there crying and that made them tease me more. I do that. I cry a lot. Bailey came to my rescue. She took my hand and led me away and encouraged me to ignore them. She said they teased her, too, but she wasn’t as big as me.”

  “I’m so sorry. Kids can be so cruel.” Sabre touched her hand to comfort her. Shellie didn’t draw back. “And you and Bailey have been best friends ever since?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Even after she started seeing Apollo?”

  “Yes, but we didn’t see each other as much. She spent a lot of time with him.”

  “But you did know she was pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Shellie’s eyes opened wide, and fear and confusion covered her face. She didn’t respond, just nodded once affirmatively.

  Sabre picked up the hand she was holding with her right hand and clasped her left hand over it. She looked her straight in the eyes. “Shellie, what happened to Bailey’s baby?”

  Shellie just sat there shaking her head as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  35

  The Monroe school library was quiet as JP sat thumbing through old annuals looking for the quarterback with jersey number six. He started with the year 1976 since that’s when Rob and Ric graduated. The football photos took up seven pages. There were several shots of number six, but no name was attached. One page had individual photos of each varsity member wearing their jerseys and posing in football positions. Most of the players were bent over so the jersey numbers were not legible. Next to the photo was the player’s name and position. Two quarterbacks were listed, Thomas Anthony Martin and Craig G. McGill. JP studied the photos and looked back at the pictures that showed number six in action shots. It wasn’t enough to tell which one was the friend of the Cavitt brothers. JP turned to the senior photo page and looked for the quarterbacks. Both participated actively in sports, but Martin only played football the last two years, which left McGill as the more likely candidate.

  Starting at the beginning of the annual, JP searched for any reference to valedictorian, but none was listed. He approached the information desk and questioned a woman behind the desk about why valedictorians weren’t listed.

  “Because they aren’t determined yet when the annuals are released. The valedictorian and the salutatorian are chosen late in the school year, shortly before graduation.”

  “Of course. That makes sense.” JP smiled. “Is there any record kept of the valedictorians? Say, from the seventies?”

  “Everything used to be stored on microfiche and kept in bins. But I can see if it has been converted to the computer yet. Someone has been working on that for the past few years, but with budget cuts recently I think the process has slowed down if not stopped completely. But let me check.” The librarian started typing on her computer. She looked up. “This may take a minute. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Thanks. I’m looking particularly for the year 1976 and perhaps a couple of years before and after.” JP walked back to the table where he was previously sitting and thumbed through the senior photo pages. He didn’t find anyone named Billy or Barney. He couldn’t find anyone named Bernard, or anything similar for which Barney might be a nickname. He found one boy named William who could have been the Billy that the Bucher High teacher had referenced. There was no football affiliation next to his name where school activities were listed. The only thing stated there was his participation in Future Farmers of America for his four years at Monroe and his FFA presidency in his senior year. JP found the group photo of the FFA members as well as the photo of the club’s officers. They stood side-by-side with the class president in front. He couldn’t have been more than five-foot-five and not what JP would call thin. Mr. Williams had described him as tall and thin. This was definitely not the right Billy.

  JP turned back to the first page of the senior photos searching for any more names that started with the letter B.

  “Mr. Torn,” the librarian called him. He walked over to her desk. “I’m sorry, but I can’t find the valedictorians. Apparently they haven’t been inputted yet. You could try the microfiche but I’m afraid you couldn’t do that today because we’re closing in about fifteen minutes. But you’re certainly welcome to come back.”

  “Thank you.”

  JP returned to his desk and continued his search. He found five “Bobs” listed and one Robert, which seemed like an inordinate amount for such a small class. He looked for last names that might be twisted into Barney or Billy, again with little success. He continued his search through the class of 1975 and 1977 since he wasn’t certain when the boy actually graduated. It was a long laborious hunt and in the end JP didn’t feel like he had accomplished much. Before he left, JP copied all the photos of the entire 1976 graduating class, as well as anyone in the other classes that might come close to what he was looking for. Then he searched quickly through the annuals from the eighties looking for Scott Jamison. He struck out.

  On his way back to San Diego, JP plugged in his new hands-free device that he had finally succumbed to and called Sabre. He gave her a quick run down on the information he had gathered.

  “I tried tracking Maryanne Miconi but so far I’ve had no luck with that, either. I expect she’s married and has a different last name now, but I’ll check it out when I get home. At the same time I’ll try to find Thomas Anthony Martin and Craig G. McGill, the quarterbacks from Monroe High.”

  “Great.”

  “Any word on Cole?” JP asked, but he already knew the answer. If Sabre knew anything she would’ve blurted it out.

  “Actually, I’m headed over to the park right now to take another look around.”

  “Sabre, it’s getting dark. You can’t go to that park alone after dark.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a quick trip around.”

  JP raised his voice. “Sometimes you’re about as dumb as a soup sandwich.”

  Sabre tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. “Fine. I’ll just circle around. I won’t leave my car.”

  “Look, if you want to go when I get back to the city, I’ll be glad to go with you.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be home in my cozy condo way before you reach the city limits.”

  The sun had set and the sky had darkened by the time Sabre reached the park. She drove slowly alongside the sidewalk looking for Cole. She didn’t really expect to see him and she knew with every passing day the likelihood that he was still alive diminished. There had been no reports that he had returned to Hayden’s school, and Hayden claimed he had hadn’t seen or heard from him.

  The sidewalk was empty except for a lone woman in her sixties walking towards her. She wore a pink waitress uniform and tennis shoes and carried a purse in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Her steps were placed gingerly on the ground as if she had very sore feet. There were a few lights in the park but it was still difficult to see. She spotted three gentlemen at a distance inside the park near the gazebo, but there was no little boy. A large magnolia tree
stood about twenty feet in front of her to the right of the sidewalk with a shopping cart sticking out from behind. The woman in the waitress uniform was almost even with her car. Just then a man whooshed past her on a bicycle and snatched the woman’s purse from her hand, knocking her into Sabre’s car. The plastic bag flew up, splattering spaghetti in marinara sauce down the windshield. Sabre slammed on her brakes, and the woman fell to the ground. Just as the man on the bicycle reached the magnolia tree, the shopping cart flew forward. The bicyclist whipped to the right and smacked right into Mama T. She flew back with her legs in the air, and her head slammed against the tree. Before Sabre could get out of the car, the thief mounted his bicycle again and rode off into the dark.

  She jumped out of her car and ran around the front of it as the waitress tried to stand up. “Are you okay?”

  The woman straightened her skirt. “I’m fine, but he took my purse. It has all my tips.” She sounded desperate.

  Sabre reached out and placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Sabre dashed over to Mama T and the waitress followed her. Sabre checked Mama T’s pulse. She could feel a beat but she was completely knocked out. “Watch her,” Sabre said to the waitress, as she jumped up and scurried back to her car where she retrieved her cell phone and called 9-1-1. Then she went back to Mama T and the waitress. “You should call someone to come pick you up.”

  “I don’t have a phone.”

  Sabre handed her cell phone to her. The woman dialed someone and explained what happened, then handed the phone back to Sabre. “My son will be here in about thirty minutes. He’s coming from El Cajon.”

  “You should probably go into the hospital and be checked.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I’m really not hurt.”

  Sabre held Mama T’s hand and talked to her, hoping she could keep her from slipping away. It frustrated her that she didn’t really know what to do for her. She wished she was better trained for emergencies.

  Sabre checked her phone for the time, wondering when the ambulance and the police would arrive. Several people had walked over and asked what happened. Most of them just hung around, waiting like vultures over a dead carcass. Sabre wondered why people did that. Why were people drawn to accidents and bad events? One woman came up close and then backed away when she saw, or rather smelled, Mama T. She wrinkled her nose and then covered her mouth as if she were going to vomit.

  Sabre knew Mama T smelled bad. It wasn’t the first time she had a close encounter with her, but today she hadn’t noticed. She was too concerned about Mama T to worry about the stench.

  Finally, Sabre heard the sirens. A large, red fire truck pulled up in front of her car. Four firemen exited the truck and approached them. One of them introduced himself and started asking questions about the incident. Sabre stepped back and let them work. Before she finished explaining what happened, she heard the sirens and saw the lights flashing from the paramedics. They were followed by two police cars with more sirens and more flashing red lights. Two of the men pulled the stretcher out of the ambulance and rolled it over as close as they could to Mama T. Sabre couldn’t see what they were doing but she noticed someone had placed a cervical collar on her.

  A policeman approached Sabre and asked her to explain what happened. Another one was talking to the waitress. The scene suddenly seemed very surreal with the lights, the sirens, and all the men in uniform buzzing around. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and realized it hadn’t all really hit her until now. She had been operating on auto pilot. She took a deep breath and then answered the policeman’s questions to the best of her ability.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “I was driving slowly alongside the sidewalk and just as the waitress approached my car, the man on the bicycle came up from behind, grabbed her purse, and knocked her down. As he drove away, Mama T, that’s the homeless woman, pushed her cart out onto the sidewalk toward him. It looked like she was trying to stop him, but he swerved and hit her instead, slamming her to the ground. She hit her head against the tree as she went down.”

  “You called the woman Mama T. Do you know her?”

  “I’ve encountered her before here in the park on several occasions. I’m a child advocate and I have an eight-year-old child who is missing from this area. I’ve spoken to Mama T a couple of times while looking for the child.”

  “Did you see what the man on the bicycle looked like?” the officer asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. I didn’t see his face. He wore a black sweatshirt with a hood and black sweatpants. The hood was pulled up over his head. I didn’t see him at all until he was by the side of my car and then I couldn’t see his head through my window. I could only see his upper body. The car and the waitress blocked the rest of my view. I saw what he was wearing after he passed the car, and I saw the purse tucked under his arm.”

  Sabre watched as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. She reached into her pants pocket and took out her business card and handed it to the officer. “My office number and my cell are on there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the hospital and check on Mama T. I’m sure she has no one else.”

  “Sure.”

  Sabre looked over at the waitress. She had started to cry as she gave her story to the police officer. “That woman’s son is on his way, but he may be a while. Will someone stay with her?” Sabre asked.

  “You go ahead. We’ll take care of her.”

  Sabre followed the ambulance to County Hospital. Her hands shook as she dialed JP.

  36

  “Hey, kid,” JP said as he placed his hand on Sabre’s shoulder.

  Sabre stood up and wrapped her arms around him. They stood there in an embrace until Sabre finally let go. “You didn’t have to come here,” she said.

  “Yes, I did.” He smiled down at her. “How’s Mama T?”

  “I don’t know much yet. The doctor should be out soon.” Sabre took a seat and JP sat next to her. “I don’t even know her name. I don’t know who to call. I feel so helpless.”

  “You’ve already been a big help to her. You called the ambulance. If you hadn’t been there she might still be lying in the park.”

  Sabre tipped her head to the side and gave him a half-smile. “So now you think it was a good idea that I was there? You told me not to go, remember?”

  “You shouldn’t have gone, but we’ll have that discussion later. I’ve known mules that were less stubborn than you. But you were there and you helped her.”

  “Did I tell you she tried to stop the thief with her shopping cart? Mama T is quite the caretaker. She shares her food. She runs down thieves who attack strangers. I don’t know why I’m so invested in this homeless person.”

  “Because you have a big heart, just like Mama T.”

  “I just wish I knew who she is. Why she’s living on the streets. Who to call for her. If she has family. There may be someone looking for her that doesn’t know she’s even alive.”

  “Maybe the hospital will find out who she is.”

  “They told me they’re sending a social worker in the morning, but I’m not sure what good that’ll do. She’s not coherent. So unless they run her prints … and that might not prove anything either.”

  A tall, grey-haired man entered the waiting room. “Is someone here for Jane Doe… er, Mama T?” he asked.

  Sabre and JP stood up. Sabre raised her hand. “I am,” she said.

  The doctor walked over to them and sat down across from them. He started to speak. “Do you know this woman’s name?”

  “I don’t really know her. I’ve spoken to her a few times in the park near where she lives. She … she lives under the bridge.” Sabre felt almost like she was defying a confidence but the doctor had so little information.

  “I figured she was homeless. But you call her Mama T. Why?”

  “That’s what they call her on the streets. She gathers food
for some of the others and it’s a play on Mother Teresa.” The doctor had a concerned but not surprised look on his face. It was a look that said there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “The blow to the head caused some problems. She has a minor linear skull fracture, which isn’t serious unless there’s an additional injury to the brain. She has an intraparenchymal hemorrhage, a contusion. It’s bleeding into the brain tissue. Like a bruise to the brain tissue, if you will.”

  “So what does that mean? What kind of treatment will she receive?”

  “It’s a minor bleed so it may not cause any further problems. The bleeding often stops without any treatment. For now, we just want to keep her here and watch to make sure it doesn’t cause any brain swelling, which is rare. If it were a larger bleed we’d be looking at surgery, but this is minor.”

  Sabre sighed. “That’s good then.”

  “That is good. But we also found a mass on her brain. We’re running more tests to determine what it is. We have no medical history and we can’t obtain any from the patient. Is there anything you can tell me about her behavior that you may have observed in your contact with her?”

  “She has a strange speech pattern. She often repeats a single word or phrase. She really doesn’t make sense most of the time. Yet, she seems to function like she knows what she’s doing.” Sabre shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Could the mass on her brain be causing that?”

  “Maybe. We need to run more tests.” The doctor forced a little smile. “She’s awake, by the way.”

  “May I see her?”

  “Sure, for a minute. It might be good for her to see a familiar face. We haven’t been as busy tonight as usual so we already have her in a room. Come with me.”

  JP stayed behind as Sabre followed the doctor to Mama T’s bed. She looked comfortable enough. Sabre wondered when the last time was that she had slept in a real bed. Her hands were strapped to the side of the bed, but they were clean and she was hooked up to an IV. The doctor stepped out.