by John Grisham
Back at the high school, the contents of Jessie’s locker were stacked neatly on the floor of the hallway. Detective Hamilton, wearing surgical gloves, gently removed the last items—two Linx 0-4 Tablets. “Gee, I wonder where these came from,” he said with a smile. “Jonah said we would probably find them here. Let me guess, Jessie, you have no idea how these shiny new things made their way into your locker, right?”
Jessie said nothing.
They stepped into an empty classroom and Mr. Trussel closed the door. “Sit there,” Hamilton barked at Jessie as he pointed to a desk. Jessie did as he was told. There was no fight left in him.
“What I want at this point,” Hamilton said as he hovered over Jessie, as if he might begin slapping him at any second, “is the rest of the stolen goods. Where are they?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jessie said feebly. His hands were clenched together on the desk and he stared at them.
Hamilton reached into a pocket and pulled out some papers. “You’re a real smart kid, aren’t you, Jessie? So tell me, what is a search warrant?”
Jessie shook his head.
“You don’t know? Maybe you’re not that bright after all.”
Jessie shook his head.
“A search warrant allows the police to go into your house and search every room, every drawer, cabinet, closet, box, bag, every pile of junk in the attic, and every piece of old furniture in the garage. It allows us to turn your house upside down looking for the rest of the stuff you and your little brother stole from Big Mac’s.” Hamilton dropped his search warrant on the desk and it landed on Jessie’s arms. He made no effort to read it.
“Is your mother at home, Jessie?” Hamilton asked.
“She’s asleep. She works the night shift at the hospital.”
“Well, let’s go wake her up.”
Chapter 24
Linda Finn was sound asleep in her bedroom on the ground floor of her home at about 5:00 p.m. Monday afternoon when the doorbell rang and jarred her awake. She never got enough sleep. She worked from 8:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m., four days a week and occasionally on weekends for extra money. Such a weird schedule disrupted normal sleep patterns and kept her tired. And often, when she should have been sleeping, she was wide awake worrying about her bruising divorce, her worthless husband and his hardnosed lawyer, and her two boys and the bad direction in which they seemed to be headed. Linda had plenty to worry about.
The doorbell would not stop ringing, so she pulled on an old bathrobe and walked to the front door in her bare feet. She opened the door. Staring at her was Detective Vorman, with Jonah, and behind them were two police officers in full uniform. Beyond them, at the curb, were two police cars, with lights and all the usual decorative painting and decals. There was an unmarked car in the driveway. She put her hand over her mouth and almost fainted.
Then she managed to open the storm door and said, “What is it?!”
Vorman flashed his badge and said, “Detective Scott Vorman, Strattenburg Police. May I come in?”
“What is it, Jonah?” she asked, horrified.
Jonah looked at his shoes.
“We need to talk,” Vorman said, opening the storm door wider. She backed away, clutching her bathrobe to make sure she was decent. Vorman followed Jonah inside and closed the door behind them. In the driveway, Detective Hamilton sat in his car with Jessie in the passenger’s seat. “Are we going in?” Jessie asked.
“Maybe,” Hamilton replied. The two uniformed officers loitered in the front yard, smoking cigarettes. Across the street, a few neighbors were on their porches, watching with curiosity.
Inside, Vorman found a seat in an old chair with holes in the fabric. Linda and Jonah sat on a sofa with battered cushions. “I’ll get to the point, Mrs. Finn. A computer store on Main Street was broken into last Tuesday night. The thieves took some laptops, cell phones, and tablets. About twenty thousand dollars worth of stuff. Our prime suspects are Jonah and Jessie.”
She jerked around and glared at Jonah, who was still fascinated by his shoes.
Vorman went on: “We’ve searched their lockers and backpacks, and so far we’ve recovered five of the tablets and one cell phone. We suspect the rest of the stuff might be hidden somewhere in this house, so we have a search warrant, signed by a judge, that allows us to look everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” Linda gasped, immediately thinking of the stacks of unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink, the piles of dirty laundry in the basement, the unmade beds, the undusted furniture and shelves, the filthy bathrooms, the litter in the hallway, the half-empty glasses and cups in the den, and all of this was only the downstairs. The upstairs, where the boys lived and she was afraid to go, looked worse than a landfill.
“That’s right,” Vorman said as he pulled out the search warrant and handed it to her. She just gawked at it and shook her head.
“Every room, every closet, every drawer,” Vorman said, cranking up the pressure. Vorman knew no woman would want the police or anyone else poking through their house.
“Is this true, Jonah?” she asked, her eyes suddenly wet. Jonah refused to speak.
“Yes, it’s true,” Vorman said. “Jessie has pretty much confessed to everything, but he will not tell us where the rest of the stolen goods are. So, we have no choice but to take the house apart and see if the stuff is here.”
“Is it here, Jonah?” she demanded. He glanced at her, another guilty look.
“At this point, it’s important to cooperate,” Vorman said helpfully. “The judge will take it into consideration.”
“If it’s here, tell them,” she said angrily to Jonah. “There’s no sense in making the police dig through our home.”
After a long pause, Vorman said, “Look, I don’t have all afternoon and all night. I’m going to call for some extra men and we’ll start by digging through the boys’ bedrooms.”
“Tell me, Jonah!” Mrs. Finn growled.
Jonah crossed his arms, bit his bottom lip, and finally said, “In the crawl space above the garage.”
Sitting in the unmarked car, Jessie watched with horror as the policemen walked out of the garage with armloads of laptops, tablets, and cell phones. “Well, well, I guess they found everything,” Hamilton said. “Stay here.” He got out of the car to go have a look. Jessie wiped a tear off his cheek.
Linda Finn quickly got dressed and followed the police downtown. Jessie was riding in the car in front of her. Jonah was with Detective Vorman in another car. She cried all the way, asking herself—How could this happen? What had she done wrong as a mother? What would they do with her boys? How would this affect her divorce and her battle to win custody of Jonah and Jessie? Would custody be an issue if they were sent away? A hundred questions raced through her mind as the little caravan moved through the streets of Strattenburg.
At the police station, they gathered in a small room in the basement, and for the first time since that morning Jonah and Jessie were face-to-face. Jessie looked as though he wanted to punch his little brother. Jonah was thinking what a rat his big brother was. But they could say nothing.
Detective Hamilton took charge by saying, “This crime has been solved and you boys are in some serious trouble, no sense in beating around the bush. You’re not going home tonight, and you may not be home for quite a while.”
Linda started crying again. After a few sobs, she managed to ask, “Where are you taking them?
“There’s a juvenile detention center down the street. They will appear in Youth Court the day after tomorrow and the judge will decide what to do with them at that point. A formal hearing will be held in about a month. Any questions?”
A thousand questions, but none spoken.
Detective Hamilton said, “I’m going to ask Detective Vorman to explain your Miranda Rights. Listen carefully.”
Vorman slid across two sheets of paper, one for each boy. “These are the same. Number one: You have the right to remain silent. Number two: Anything
you say in this meeting may be used against you in court. Number three: You have the right to an attorney, and if you can’t afford one, the court will provide you with one.”
“Just like on television,” Jessie said, the wise guy.
“You got it,” Vorman said. “Any questions? Okay, sign those forms at the bottom. Mrs. Finn, as their mother, you sign just under their names.”
The Finns reluctantly signed their names. Vorman collected the sheets of paper. Hamilton looked at Jonah and Jessie, and said, “I’ve been through this a thousand times, and I can promise you that the most important thing you can do right now to help yourselves is to cooperate. You’re guilty. We know you’re guilty. We can prove you’re guilty. So none of this pointing fingers at everybody else. The judge, the same guy who decides if you’re gonna be sent away to juvenile detention, and for how long, will ask me in court if you boys cooperated. If I say yes, he likes that. If I say no, then he frowns and doesn’t like that. Understand?”
“I want a lawyer,” Jessie said.
“We can sure get you one,” Hamilton shot back. “Scott, take him to jail.”
Vorman jumped to his feet, snapped a pair of handcuffs off his belt, grabbed Jessie by the neck, pulled him up, and cuffed his hands behind his back. He opened the door and was about to take him away when Linda slapped the table and said, “Wait a minute! I want the truth! I want you two boys to tell me the truth. Sit down, Jessie. Sit down right here and tell me what happened.”
Vorman released Jessie, who was stunned at the speed with which he got himself handcuffed. Carefully, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands still cuffed behind his back.
When everyone took a deep breath, Jonah said, “We did it because we needed the money.”
Chapter 25
Theo was in the middle of his homework when his father’s voice came across the office phone intercom. “Hey, Theo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could you please step into the conference room?”
“Sure.”
Both parents were there, and his mother had been crying. “What’s the matter?” Theo asked.
“We have some good news,” his father said.
“Then why is Mom crying?”
“I’m not crying, Theo,” she said. “Not now.”
His father said, “I just talked to Detective Vorman. They’ve arrested two boys, brothers, Jonah and Jessie Finn, for the break-in at Big Mac’s. The police found most of the stolen goods in the boys’ home.”
“Their mother is my client, Theo,” Mrs. Boone said sadly.
No kidding, Theo thought, but said nothing.
Mr. Boone continued, “The boys have confessed to everything, including their little campaign of terror against you. Seems they were carrying a pretty substantial grudge because of the divorce.”
“I’m so sorry, Theo,” Mrs. Boone said. “I should have realized this.”
Theo took a deep breath and smiled and thought about Ike. His crazy uncle had solved the mystery long before anyone else had a clue. “This is great,” Theo said. “The flat tires, the rock, the Internet stuff, everything?”
“Everything,” his father said. “The break came when someone at school reported that the younger boy, the seventh grader, had a cell phone in his pocket. As you know, that’s against the rules, and the cell phone turned out to be one that was stolen from the store. One thing led to another, more stolen goods were found in the boys’ lockers, and then the police got a search warrant.”
Theo felt as though someone was reading secrets he’d written about himself. He managed to smile and nod happily along, and he wasn’t really faking it. Theo was delighted this little nightmare was over. “What’s gonna happen to them?” he asked.
“That will be determined in Youth Court,” Mrs. Boone said. “The older one, Jessie, has a record and I suspect he’ll be sent away. Jonah will probably get probation.”
“What does this do to you and your client, their mother?” Theo asked.
“I can’t represent her, Theo. I’ll withdraw tomorrow as her lawyer. Her boys attacked you because of me, and I should have realized it. I’m so sorry.”
“Please, Mom, you had no idea.”
“It’s the right thing to do, Theo,” Mr. Boone added. “We may have to appear in Youth Court and talk about what these two guys did. Your mother cannot represent Mrs. Finn when we may have to testify against her sons. I know it’s sticky, but there’s no other choice.”
Theo shrugged, secretly delighted that all Finns would be gone from Boone & Boone.
Theo was thrilled. His parents were relieved. Even Judge looked happier.
“It’s Monday,” Theo said. “I’m going to run over and see Ike.”
Bob Dylan was playing softly on the stereo. Ike was smoking a pipe and a cloud of blue fog hung over the room. Theo had sent Ike a dozen text messages throughout the day to keep him posted. His last one read: Finns arrested. Full confessions. Whoopee.
“Congratulations, Ike,” Theo said as he dropped the fifty dollars on Ike’s insanely cluttered desk. “You did it.”
Ike grinned because it was not the right moment for modesty. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”
“Beautiful, Ike. Just beautiful.”
“What kind of mood is Marcella in?”
“Not too good. She’s blaming herself.”
“She should have realized, Theo. Marcella is too smart not to have suspected something from one of her cases.”
“Don’t blame her, Ike. She feels lousy enough.”
“Okay, but if I thought about it, then she should have thought about it, too.”
“Agreed. Are we going to tell her about snooping through her files?”
Ike kicked back and put his feet onto his desk, knocking off a few files in the process. “You know, Theo, I’ve been thinking about that. Now is not the time to come clean.”
“So when?”
“Don’t know. Let some time pass. Everybody’s kinda edgy right now. Your parents have been worried sick. Let things cool down, and then we’ll discuss the matter, just the two of us.”
“I’d feel better if we told my parents everything.”
“Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. Look, Theo, honesty is a great virtue. You should always strive to be honest and trustworthy, and if your mother asked you tonight if you stole the password, gave it to me, and thus allowed me access to her divorce files, you would say Yes. That would be the honest thing to do. Right?”
“Right.”
“But she doesn’t know, and she may never know. Therefore, is it dishonest not to tell her?”
“It feels dishonest.”
“You’re thirteen years old. Have you told your mother every bad thing you’ve gotten away with in your life?”
“No.”
“Of course not. No one does, Theo. We all have our little secrets, and as long as they’re harmless, who really cares? With time, the secrets often go away and things don’t matter anymore.”
“What if someone checks the entry record to the firm’s InfoBrief and sees that it was accessed off-site?”
“Well, if you are confronted, then you tell the truth. And, I’ll step in, tell the truth, too, and take all the blame.”
“You can’t take all the blame, Ike, because I stole the password.”
“Under the circumstances, it was the right thing to do. I’ll have a little chat with your parents and explain that I insisted on looking at the files. We’ll fight and all that, but we’ve been fighting for a long time. Sometimes you gotta fight, Theo. Remember?”
“I guess, but I still don’t feel good about it.”
“Let’s do this, Theo. Let’s not mention this issue again for one full month. I’m writing this down. One month from today we’ll discuss it again.”
Theo thought about it for a moment, then reluctantly said, “Okay.” Theo knew, though, that it was not okay, and he knew it would bug him until he told his mother everything.
“Mom says you’re invited to dinner tonight at Robilio’s.”
“Tell her I said thanks.”
“I need to go. I don’t know what to say, Ike. You’re the greatest.”
“Not the greatest, Theo, but maybe in the top five.”
Theo bounded down the steps, hopped on his bike, and headed for the office. He pedaled furiously as he flew down the street. Everything seemed lighter—the air, the mood, the bike.
Theodore Boone, no longer the accused.
Chapter 1
Theodore Boone was an only child and for that reason usually had breakfast alone. His father, a busy lawyer, was in the habit of leaving early and meeting friends for coffee and gossip at the same downtown diner every morning at seven. Theo’s mother, herself a busy lawyer, had been trying to lose ten pounds for at least the past ten years, and because of this she’d convinced herself that breakfast should be nothing more than coffee with the newspaper. So he ate by himself at the kitchen table, cold cereal and orange juice, with an eye on the clock. The Boone home had clocks everywhere, clear evidence of organized people.
Actually, he wasn’t completely alone. Beside his chair, his dog ate, too. Judge was a thoroughly mixed mutt whose age and breeding would always be a mystery. Theo had rescued him from near death with a last-second appearance in Animal Court two years earlier, and Judge would always be grateful. He preferred Cheerios, same as Theo, and they ate together in silence every morning.
At 8:00 a.m., Theo rinsed their bowls in the sink, placed the milk and juice back in the fridge, walked to the den, and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Off to school,” he said.
“Do you have lunch money?” she asked, the same question five mornings a week.
“Always.”
“And your homework is complete?”
“It’s perfect, Mom.”
“And I’ll see you when?”
“I’ll stop by the office after school.” Theo stopped by the office every day after school, without fail, but Mrs. Boone always asked.
“Be careful,” she said. “And remember to smile.” The braces on his teeth had now been in place for over two years and Theo wanted desperately to get rid of them. In the meantime, though, his mother continually reminded him to smile and make the world a happier place.