by Joel Skelton
I’d give anything to spend today with Ian.
Harper was surprised at how relaxed he felt. The writing was on the wall. Jasper Flynn was sure to be awarded one of the harshest sentences possible despite his pleas for leniency. All anyone could do at this point was let the process run its course. And that’s what made it so hard to leave this morning. Whether he was at the sentencing or not, the outcome would be the same.
“What do you do on days like this?” Harper sipped his piping hot coffee cautiously.
“Further into the season, I can use rain days to catch up on invoicing, ordering, maybe some sketching and planning. But business isn’t there yet for me to have anything to catch up on. I think I’ll go over to my apartment and pick up a few more things. Then I’ll stop by Andy’s and see if I can help him out. If you get a chance, give me a call and let me know how things are going.” Ian walked over and wrapped his arms around Harper. “I wish you didn’t have to go in this morning. I can think of more than one thing I could do to you on a day like today.”
“You stop!” Harper begged, accepting a smooch on the lips. “I’m already dreading the rest of the day. Oh man, I lost track of the time. I have to run. I’ll call you, I promise.”
Harper spent much of the day reviewing a new pro bono case involving a woman who had voluntarily surrendered her three children because she was unable to control her methamphetamine addiction. Now that she was clean, she was having second thoughts and had hired an attorney to help get them back. The guardian ad litem, a county employee who monitored the situation, advised the mother was still a risk. Harper had been asked to defend the county’s opinion. An hour before he was scheduled to leave for the courthouse, he reviewed his sentencing notes and, for the first time all day, felt the familiar pangs of nervousness. Minutes before they were to leave, his assistant, Brent, showed up at his office door.
“Hey, Harper. Ready to head out?”
“I can’t find my phone. Have you seen my phone?” Frustrated for being such a scatterbrain, Harper searched his desk and bookshelves.
Brent joined the search, finding the phone buried underneath a pile of case notes.
“Sorry, I thought I looked there.” He tucked it in his coat pocket.
“Do you want me to call Mrs. Flynn?” Brent had a history of winning over difficult clients and most likely viewed Phyllis Flynn as a prime test of his considerable people skills.
“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’ll call her when we get in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was a no-show. She doesn’t care about Jasper and probably has a nail appointment she can’t miss.”
“Duncan and Arthur are already on their way over.” Brent glanced down at his notes.
“Great! You ready for this?” He stepped out of the office.
“I know it’s not going to be under the best circumstances, but I’m looking forward to being in court with you.” Brent trailed Harper out the door.
He knew Brent was excited. Harper was glad he’d thought to include him. On the way to the car, he called Ian.
“Burke Landscaping.”
“Ian.” He’d fallen in love with Ian’s voice too. Love… it’s everything they said it would be and more!
“Oh hey, Harper.”
“I’m off to the sentencing. If you have access to a television, there might be some local coverage after four. I’ll try not to be in tears.” He opened the car door and hopped in.
“I’m at Jungle Gems helping Andy out. I’ll run into his office and check it out. I love you. See you at the house later.”
“I love you too. Bye!” Glancing over at Brent, he figured now was as good a time as any for an Ian update.
“I have a new man in my life, as you might have already guessed from the favor you did for me the other day. His name is Ian Burke, and he’s a landscaper. I thought you should know, as you’ll probably at some point be talking to him.” He looked over to Brent for a reaction.
“I’m happy to hear that. Have you guys been seeing each other long?” Brent adjusted his seat belt.
“No.” He chuckled. “But it feels like we have. I mean that in a good way.”
“Sure. I understand. I’d love to meet him.”
It might have been because he was looking for it that he detected a slight hint of jealousy in his assistant’s response. Harper suspected a crush had developed. Little signs here and there were hard to ignore. Although Brent was a fair catch, Harper wasn’t inclined to dip his pen in the firm’s ink.
He punched in Phyllis’s number. To his relief, the phone went right into voice mail. Either she was on another call or she had it turned off. “Phyllis, this is Harper Callahan. If I’m going to be of any service to you, I need you to return my calls. I’m on my way over to Jasper’s sentencing. I’ll look for you when I get there. I’ll keep my line clear if you need to get in touch with me.”
At the top of the courthouse steps, he was surprised to see so much press already gathered. With Brent right on his heels, he ignored their questions and charged past onto the elevator leading up to Judge Morrison’s courtroom, 2C, where the trial had taken place. Inside the double door, he was relieved the judge had maintained his stance, limiting the number of media permitted inside. A quick glance around the room confirmed Phyllis, at least for now, was a no-show. He looked at his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or a text before silencing it. He and Brent took their seats next to Arthur and Duncan, leaving an open chair in the middle for their client.
“Any word from Phyllis? I left a voice mail, but she hasn’t returned my call,” Harper looked to the partners for a response.
“Nothing on this end.” Duncan glanced over at Arthur, who shook his head.
Jasper Flynn, dressed in a charcoal suit and a black tie, was led into the courtroom. Brent stood and escorted him over to his chair.
“Even though the decision is made,” Duncan whispered in Jasper’s ear, “do your best to show your human side. Just make sure not to overreact. Show some confidence, and above all, be respectful.”
“Relax as best you can,” Harper said, squeezing Jasper’s arm. “Today’s sentencing is not much more than a formality—”
“The appeal is almost ready to be filed, and you may see this judge again,” Duncan interrupted.
Ah Dunc, God forbid our client come away from this massacre without knowing how courageously you fought for his freedom.
Jasper nodded with unmistakable fear in his eyes.
In a matter of minutes, the courtroom was packed from floor to ceiling with the people Jasper had screwed. The court reporter sat down in his “cubby” to the left of the judge’s throne while the administrative clerk sat behind her big computer screen to the right. Harper gave her and the court reporter a business card to ensure they had the proper spelling of his name. He enjoyed interacting with the court staff. He’d take every opportunity he could get to convince them he was really a good guy despite his role in Jasper’s defense.
Back in his seat, he watched the judicial law clerk quietly slip into a chair on the sidelines. The admin clerk picked up the phone to let the judge know the room was ready. The bailiff stood and, in his best monotone voice, demanded, “All rise.”
Harper felt at peace while people around him announced who they were for the court reporter so it went on the record.
Nothing I say today is going to change your mind, is it, Judge?
He knew regardless of how well he pleaded for leniency, the decision had already been made. Based on the judge’s reactions and comments during the trial, he held out little hope their client would be given a break.
The judge asked the prosecution for their final thoughts, and the courtroom fell silent.
As expected, Naomi Hendricks, the dowdy and incredibly plain lead prosecutor, whined about her disgust for Jasper and the financial plague he’d inflicted on the good folks who just happened to be voting members of the constituency that elected her boss.
This is a big flash in a very small career, Naomi. Enjoy!
He was brought back to the moment when the prosecution, in the hopes of squashing any notion the judge may have had for not imposing the maximum sentence, produced for the court a handful of Jasper’s victims.
“You robbed us of our retirement,” a man said, trembling with emotion. “Instead of spending our final years enjoying….”
Harper was forced to stare down at the table while the man speaking struggled to gain control.
“… the wife and I are working full time. We have nothing left.”
Spectators in the courtroom reacted noisily as the man walked back to his seat. The next victim was called up, and Harper winced when he saw her rise and walk to the podium using a walker. Oh God, this is going to be a bad one.
“Twenty-five years ago—” The woman stopped and pulled a hankie out from the sleeve of her lavender sweater. “I’m sorry. Twenty-five years ago my husband invested with Jasper Flynn, only months before—” She stopped to blow her nose. “Months before he passed away from lung cancer. When he died, Flynn…”
Like the previous victim, this woman was debilitated by emotion and anger. Oh please make this end.
“…he placed his arm around me and promised me everything was safe with him. And it wasn’t. It’s all gone! I hope you never see the light of day,” the woman shouted over to Flynn before a deputy helped her back to her seat.
“Mr. Callahan, is there anything you’d like to say on behalf of your client?” the judge asked, raising an eyebrow as if to say “proceed at your own risk.”
Harper sucked in a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and stood. Taking a minute to collect his thoughts after the drama he had just witnessed, he began, “Your honor, Jasper Flynn comes before you today understanding the crimes he was convicted of committing require punishment. Mr. Flynn’s intentions have always been to help his clients, his friends, financially prosper.”
He was forced to pause while the courtroom exploded with a wave of angry response. The judge, after a few moments, silenced the boos and hisses with his gavel.
“Mr. Flynn did not act out of malice,” he continued when he thought it safe. “His actions were those of a desperate man in fear of failing those closest to him. We respectfully request your honor to keep Mr. Flynn’s intentions in mind when imposing sentence.”
He gulped as he paused to weather an even stronger tone of dissatisfaction that swept over the courtroom, a reaction to his portrayal of Jasper as anything other than a monster. He made eye contact with Jasper’s detractors before turning to face his client directly. He wanted to remind the judge of the human side of this man, not the convict.
“This is a husband,” Harper forged on, undeterred by the mood of the spectators, “a father, a loyal friend who acted with the best interests of his loved ones in mind. The economy was crashing, and Jasper panicked—not for himself but for his clients, his friends.”
He stared down at his notes. At least for his part, he was making some ground. The reaction to his last few statements was mere grumblings. He paused for a few more beats to emphasize his point. “It’s likely difficult for those who lost money to remember Jasper is more than just a financial advisor whose choices cost them dearly. I ask those people to consider how far they would go to protect their loved ones from the catastrophes relating to the financial meltdown the rest of the country battled.”
He squeezed Jasper’s arm in a sign of solidarity before sitting back down.
“Nicely done,” Duncan whispered.
I don’t know what more I could have said. We’re definitely not the home team. Taking a deep breath, he waited for the finale to begin.
“Mr. Flynn, will you please rise,” the judge commanded when the courtroom had calmed.
Harper, along with the entire defense team, rose alongside Jasper, acting as literal and figurative supports for their client.
“Is there anything you’d like to say before I sentence you?” The judge sat with his arms folded in front of him.
Jasper cleared his throat and addressed the court. “I understand the anger in this room. I truly hope someday these fine people will know why I did what I did.”
His opening statement triggered a flood of rage. Again, the judge was forced to use his gavel to silence the many who cried out in anger.
“Nothing I can say will change anything,” he continued, his voice burdened with emotion. “I know the people in this courtroom won’t believe it when I tell them how deeply sorry I am this has—”
“Why should they believe you?” the judge snapped back. “All you’ve done to them is lie and spend their money.”
The judge’s terse response caught Harper by surprise. It appeared to shake Jasper to his core, but somehow he found the courage to continue.
“I just wanted to apologize, your honor.”
“Why?” Judge Morrison shot back, this time with even more conviction.
Jasper began to weave back and forth. Harper closed the gap between them in the event he started to go down.
“Why should anyone believe anything you have to say? You cheated people out of millions and you spent their money, and I think you’ve taken up enough of our time today.”
Harper stared forward in astonishment as Judge Morrison swiftly sentenced Jasper to twenty-five years for his crimes. The judge went on to encourage the victims to consider seeking remuneration via civil action.
Bye-bye, Jasper!
Out of the corner of his eye, Harper saw his client crumble.
“I’m sorry.” He took hold of Jasper’s arm and held him up until the court officers could take over. Flynn was devastated. His worst fears had been realized.
This is your fault, Phyllis. Your greed drove your husband off the deep end. And the worst thing, you can’t even find it in your heart to be here for him. You’re the lowest of low.
Once Jasper was out of the courtroom, Harper led the defense team over to shake hands with the prosecution and exchanged pleasantries like “you did what you could” and “nice work, counselors.”
That was a special kind of awful! Get me the hell out of here!
Picking up his briefcase, he left the courtroom and was immediately inundated with questions from the press. He did his best to hide his lack of empathy for his client while addressing the numerous inquiries about Jasper’s sentence. Brent kept him moving through the crowd. Duncan and Arthur were nowhere in sight.
Out on the steps of the courthouse, he ran into a virtual roadblock of reporters.
“How do you feel about the sentence?”
“Do you plan on appealing?”
“As you can imagine, I’m very disappointed in the outcome.” He thought carefully about his next choice of words. “Jasper is a victim of the economy, and I would have hoped….”
Distracted by a flurry of activity to his left, he scanned the crowd for its source. He first spotted Phyllis charging up the steps, shoving people out of her way, and then, to his horror, the gun pointed directly at him.
Putting his hand up as if it would somehow protect him, he hollered out, “No, Phyllis! No—”
Chapter 5
EMPTYING the mop bucket into the drain under the dishwasher, Alex returned it to the little room off the kitchen that housed a beat-up washer, dryer, and cleaning supplies. Until the weather turned warmer and stayed warm, the Lip Smacker, a café located just outside of Castle Danger on Highway 62, would open for breakfast and lunch only. The weekday hours available to work while he completed his senior year of high school were from two thirty to four each day. Audrey Pakenpooch, the owner, did whatever she could to work around his school schedule. When the season hit, he worked around her schedule. Audrey felt, and at times acted, like his mother. It was special to him that she had known his mom while she was still alive.
Before punching out, he hauled the garbage he’d bagged earlier and left lined up along the wall to the dumpster behind the diner. Business was slow
, making garbage detail a snap.
Outside, he noticed the warm afternoon air was starting to chill. Winter was reluctant to leave the North Shore. This year, winter had been stubborn as hell.
Grabbing his letter jacket from the tiny break room, he punched out, locked the back door, and climbed into Zits, his beat-up orange Jetta. Colin, his best friend, had christened the car Zits because of the little brown hail dents covering it. Old Zits was reliable, about the only good thing anyone could say about his ride.
Okay, Zits, what are we gonna do now?
The last thing he wanted to do was go home. Anything but that! At some point he knew he’d have to, but the longer he waited, the better the chances his dad would be passed out on the couch in front of the television. These last several weeks had been rough. Dad had been laid off from the taconite processing plant in Silver Bay, and when he wasn’t working, he was drinking. Alex had to be careful during these drinking binges or risk pissing Dad off. When Dad was pissed, his belt came off. Bastard! His old man seemed to resent him more and more as he got older.
Make it through graduation, and then… I’ll have options. Hey, I know what I can do. I’ll head over to Norbert’s.
He parked Zits in the busy parking lot of the convenience store and strolled in, waving at Norbert, who never ventured far from the cash register.
“Hey there, young fella,” Norbert greeted him with a wave back.
“Hi, Norbert. I’m going to check out your magazines.”
“Be my guest. I put out a few new ones yesterday. I’ll sell you the girlie one you’ve been hiding behind if you promise not to tell your dad.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
He was grateful Norbert had put the reading section in the back corner by the fishing lures. He could spend a good deal of time here unnoticed. Glancing up and down the rows of magazines and paperbacks, he quickly spotted what he had been looking for, and he was in luck—one of the new ones Norbert had mentioned happened to be his favorite: Men’s Physique.
He’d discovered it last year when he was desperate to add some much-needed fuel to his fantasy pool. Men’s Physique was filled to the brim with pictures of handsome guys in various stages of undress. One past issue featured a picture of a naked dude stepping into the shower. His muscled butt had captivated Alex for hours and hours. So much so that that page of the display magazine was showing wear.