The Activist tb-4

by John Grisham

  Mrs. Boone said, “You’ve heard the witnesses, Dr. Kohl. What caused the injuries? Repeated blows from a stick of wood, or the rubber tires of a bicycle?”

  “I object,” Ms. Caffrey said.

  “Overruled. Please answer, Dr. Kohl.”

  Dr. Kohl smiled, took a deep breath, and said, “It’s absurd to claim the dog’s injuries were the result of being run over by a bicycle. He was injured by several hard blows from a blunt instrument.”

  Judge Yeck looked at Ms. Caffrey, but she had nothing else. “Thank you, Dr. Kohl. Please step down. Anything else from the lawyers? Any more witnesses?” Judge Yeck looked at his watch and continued, “We’ve been here almost two hours. Anybody got anything else they want to say before I make my ruling?”

  No one volunteered. On the Boone side, there was the general feeling that enough had been said, and across the aisle there was nothing but fear.

  Judge Yeck looked at the court reporter and said, “On the record, please. I am presented with two very different versions of what happened. The three boys tell one story, the three crew members tell another. The truth is usually somewhere in the middle, but not in this case. I believe the boys, and I believe the crew members—Mr. Samson, Mr. Keeth, and Mr. Green—created a story designed to keep them out of trouble.” He glared at the men, and continued: “I think you decided you could walk into this little courtroom, into Animal Court, and simply tell your lies and all would be well. You’re grown men; therefore, the court would certainly believe you before it would believe a bunch of kids. That is unfortunate. Lying is lying, regardless of who does it, and when you lie under oath in a court of law you undermine our judicial system. You, Mr. Samson, I find guilty of cruelty to animals, a Class Three offense because it involves the intentional infliction of injury. For that, I sentence you to six months in jail.”

  Samson yelled, “Six months! Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Would you like more?”

  “You’re crazy!” Samson yelled again, and seemed ready to attack the bench. Two deputies stood quickly and lurked nearby. Behind Samson, his wife began sobbing. “I got a wife and kids!” he yelled.

  “Quiet, Mr. Samson,” Judge Yeck demanded. “I’m not finished. I also find you guilty of perjury, and sentence you to sixty days in jail, in addition to the six months.”

  “This ain’t Animal Court, this is kangaroo court,” Samson hissed.

  “Get him outta here,” Judge Yeck said to the deputies, who grabbed Samson, slapped on handcuffs, and half dragged him away. When the door slammed, Judge Yeck glared at Willis Keeth and Lester Green, both of whom were wide-eyed and pale. He took a deep breath—they weren’t breathing—and said, “As for Mr. Gordon, you were wise enough to clam up and not testify, so you’ll not be going to jail tonight. Mr. Keeth and Mr. Green will not be so lucky. I find you guilty of perjury and sentence you to sixty days in jail.”

  “We’ll appeal,” Ms. Caffrey said.

  “You have that right, but as of now they’re headed to jail. Take them away.”

  The deputies hurried around Keeth and Green. When the handcuffs were in place, they led them away.

  As they walked past, Judge was on all fours, growling as loudly as possible.

  Chapter 18

  As was now the custom, Judge slept on the end of Theo’s bed, as opposed to sleeping under it. As Judge tossed and turned through the night, he sometimes whimpered when his wounds ached. Theo could usually talk him back to sleep. Judge was mending rapidly and enjoying the attention. Theo was not sleeping too well but didn’t care. He would never again fuss at his dog over anything.

  On the Thursday morning after Animal Court, Theo carried Judge downstairs and released him into the backyard. Mrs. Boone was sitting at the kitchen table in her night robe, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. “Front page,” she said, and handed Theo the Strattenburg Gazette.

  At the bottom of the front page, a bold headline read, SURVEY CREW THROWN IN JAIL. And in the center of the article was a photo of Theo holding Judge as they left court. In the excitement of the moment, Theo had been vaguely aware of a reporter and a photographer.

  “Wow,” he said as he admired the photo. The caption under it read, THEODORE BOONE, WITH DOG, JUDGE, SAYS HE PLANS TO FIGHT THE BYPASS AND ALL THE THUGS WHO WORK FOR IT.

  “Did you really say that?” his mother asked.

  “I guess I did.”

  “Seems a bit strong, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” Theo read the article. There were quotes from both parents, Mora Caffrey, Judge Yeck, and Larry Samson. All in all, it was an accurate account of what happened. The defendants disagreed with the verdicts and planned to appeal. Ms. Caffrey promised to have her clients out of jail by noon Thursday. Mr. Silas Quinn said he had filed a civil lawsuit against the four men and their company, and so on. Nothing new, really, except a rather nice photo of Theo and Judge on the front page. Theo liked it.

  “You shouldn’t have called them thugs,” Mrs. Boone said.

  “Why not? They’re thugs, right? They trespassed and they beat my dog with a stick. They’re not exactly nice guys.”

  “You gotta be careful around reporters, Theo. They’re always ready to pounce on the wrong word. Especially Norris Flay.”

  “Who’s Norris Flay?”

  “The guy you spoke to. The guy who wrote the article. He’s been around a long time and knows how to spin a story. If there’s a hot issue in town, Norris Flay will be there.”

  “Isn’t that his job?”

  “Yes, it certainly is. But he doesn’t always get things right.”

  Theo opened the back door and retrieved his dog. Judge was ready for breakfast. Theo fixed two bowls of cereal and placed one on the floor next to his chair.

  Mrs. Boone sipped her coffee and said, “Your father is not too happy about this. He doesn’t want you involved in the bypass fight.”

  “Didn’t know I was involved.”

  “It appears you are now. You’re on the front page vowing to fight the bypass.”

  “Why does Dad care?”

  “It’s a nasty political fight and no place for a kid.”

  “Mom, are you telling me to butt out?”

  “What are your plans, Theo?”

  “I have no plans.” Theo took a bite of Cheerios and crunched as loudly as possible. “Do you know a man by the name of Joe Ford?” he asked as he swallowed.

  “Yes, Mr. Ford has been a client of our firm for many years. Your father has done a lot of legal work for him. Why do you ask?”

  “There is a rumor that he has a secret deal to purchase two hundred acres at the spot where the bypass will intersect with Sweeney Road. So if the bypass gets approved and built, Mr. Ford, who I think is also known by his nickname of Fast Ford, will be in a good position to develop the land and make a fortune.”

  Mrs. Boone was frowning and nodding, not sure how to respond.

  Theo pressed on, “And there is another rumor, though I think it’s more of a fact than a rumor, that Mr. Ford was a big contributor to the governor’s last campaign. So it looks to me like Mr. Ford gives money to the governor, and the governor pushes the bypass so Mr. Ford can make even more money and then give some more back to the governor. Does this make sense, Mom?”

  “This would not surprise me.”

  “If it’s true, it sounds pretty sleazy, right Mom?”

  “It’s not illegal,” she said, rather lamely, in Theo’s opinion.

  “But can’t you agree that it sounds sleazy?”

  “Sort of, yes.”

  “Then why are we mixed up in it?”

  “We?”

  “Yes. Why does our law firm represent sleazy clients?”

  “Our law firm? Didn’t realize you were now a partner.”

  “It’s got my name on it,” Theo said, then flashed his mother a metallic smile.

  “Theo, we’ve had this discussion. Everyone has the right to a lawyer, and we, as lawyers, cannot always pick and choos
e our clients. Often our clients are wrong or they have done bad things, and that’s why they need us. A lawyer is not supposed to judge his or her client. We are supposed to help them.”

  “I’m not going to represent crooks,” Theo said, then took another spoonful.

  Her eyebrows pinched almost together and she said sternly, “Do not refer to Mr. Ford as a crook.”

  “I didn’t call him a crook,” Theo said, chomping. “I just said that when I’m a lawyer I’m not going to have crooks as clients.”

  Mrs. Boone took a deep breath and decided to let the conversation die. Theo was tired of it too. He and Judge finished eating in silence.

  During homeroom, Mr. Mount pulled out the morning paper and passed it around. Theo was often amazed at how few of his classmates ever looked at a newspaper, and virtually none of the other fifteen boys had seen the story. A few had scanned it online. Judge’s beating and near-death experience had been a hot topic all week, and the class wanted the details from Animal Court. The front-page story and photo were inspected closely and discussed at length. Theo tried to downplay it all, but secretly thought it was way cool to be on the front page. Woody, seldom quiet, had his version of the trial, and, not surprisingly, it soon grew into something different from Theo’s.

  Woody’s parents had filed assault charges against Gino Gordon, the only one of the four still not in jail, and Woody couldn’t wait until his day in court. Hardie’s parents had filed trespassing charges, both in criminal and civil courts, so the three boys were in for a full year of legal adventures. Theo thought this was wonderful, as did Mr. Mount, and the ten minutes in homeroom were again consumed with chatter about the case and its issues.

  Hardie was in a different homeroom. He found Theo during the lunch break, and they had a grand time rehashing their great victory in Animal Court. The entire Quinn family was thrilled with the outcome and very proud of Theo for his role in it. They were also delighted that the kid on the front page with the bandaged dog had vowed to “. . . fight the bypass and the thugs who work for it.”

  “Did you really say that, Theo?” Hardie asked. The truth was, Theo wasn’t sure what he’d said. As the crowd left the courtroom and spilled into the narrow hallway, there was a crush of people and a lot of talking. Theo was sort of choked up and excited; he was also stunned to see the three men hauled away in handcuffs; and he was holding Judge and just wanted to get away. He caught a glimpse of someone with a camera, and he remembered the reporter asking him some questions as he walked up the stairs.

  But, it was also true that Theo really liked the quote, so he said, “Sure.”

  “That’s awesome, Theo.”

  Hardie wanted to stop by the law office after school and talk about the bypass, and Theo promised to be there, in his office, doing his homework.

  That’s where he was at 4:00 p.m. when his father tapped on his door and said, “Follow me.” Theo knew from experience this was a bad sign. His father rarely made the trek back through the storage files and cluttered rooms to Theo’s office, and he never said simply, “Follow me.”

  They walked to the large conference room, where his father closed all the doors, then pointed to a chair for Theo to sit in. He sat in one nearby, and by the time they were seated Theo knew bad news was on the way.

  Mr. Boone began, “Last week, I believe you met Mr. Joe Ford here in the office. He’s been a client of mine for many years. Unfortunately, that has now ended. I received a call from Mr. Ford this morning in which he informed me he was basically firing me as his lawyer. He doesn’t like the fact that my son is such a vocal opponent of the bypass. Mr. Ford is a long-time supporter of that project. Like a lot of people, he thinks it’s important for our community.”

  Theo wasn’t sure how to react. He felt lousy because his father got fired. He felt relieved Mr. Ford was gone. He thought it was an overreaction by Mr. Ford. He wanted to ask his father why he represented shady guys like Fast Ford. He decided to play it safe and said, “Sorry, Dad.”

  “Your mother tells me you think Mr. Ford is, shall we say, less than honest.”

  Thanks Mom. We can’t even have a chat over breakfast without you blabbing it all to Dad. “I barely met him, Dad, so I don’t know him. Is he less than honest?”

  Mr. Boone smiled and glanced away. Then he said, “I’ve never seen anything dishonest from Joe Ford. I will say that he knows how to play the system. He has a lot of money and powerful friends, and he’s accustomed to getting what he wants. He demands loyalty, and that’s why he’s looking for another lawyer right now.”

  Theo blurted, “He sounds like a crook to me.”

  “He’s not a crook, Theo, and you need to stop throwing around words like crooks and thugs, okay?”

  His father was right about this, so Theo said, “Yes, sir.”

  After a pause, his father asked, “Who told you about the two-hundred-acre purchase at Sweeney Road?”

  Ike had told him, but Theo knew better than to admit this. He crossed his arms over his chest, clenched his teeth, and said, “I promised not to tell.” This always worked since both parents knew the importance of keeping secrets.

  “You haven’t been snooping around this office, have you?”

  Theo managed to act surprised at the very idea. “No sir. I don’t snoop around this office.” This was only partially true, and both he and his father knew it. To help clear things up a bit he said, “Someone told me.”

  Mr. Boone shook his head as if he believed this when in fact he did not, and Theo knew it.

  “What else did this someone tell you?” Mr. Boone asked.

  Theo had nothing to gain by saying anything else. “That’s it. Nothing else.”

  His father’s concern only confirmed the truth about Joe Ford and his shady deal, but Theo decided to leave it alone. Fast Ford had said good-bye as a client, and Theo was secretly thrilled such a bad character was gone from Boone & Boone. And he suspected he wasn’t alone. Theo had a hunch his mother was on his side. She had no fondness for real estate developers in town who sought to chew up the land and build more shopping centers and condos. Things had been said before, around the office and around the house, sharp little one-liners and zingers that left no doubt Mrs. Boone did not care for some of Mr. Boone’s clients. Theo was not supposed to hear these things, but Theo missed little.

  Theo said, “Look, Dad, I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for Judge to get hurt. I didn’t ask for the trial yesterday. I didn’t ask to get my photo on the front page. It all just sort of happened, and if Mr. Ford is angry, then I’m sorry. Frankly, I think he overreacted by firing our law firm.”

  “Our law firm?”

  “Got my name on it.”

  Mr. Boone smiled and seemed to relax. Theo suspected he wasn’t really that upset at losing Joe Ford as a client. “Go finish your homework,” he said as he got to his feet.

  “Sure, Dad.”

  Chapter 19

  Theo was hard at work memorizing Spanish verbs when someone knocked on his door. It was Hardie. He stepped inside, paused to rub Judge on the head and speak to him, then said, “Say, Theo, are you free for about thirty minutes?”

  On a typical afternoon, after Theo checked in at the office, he was free to come and go, as long as his homework was finished. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Let’s hop on our bikes, take a ten-minute ride. I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Eight minutes later, they wheeled to a stop in front of an old, redbrick warehouse in the Delmont section of town, near Stratten College. Most of the warehouses appeared to be abandoned, but on the street front there were a few offices. Above one a sign read: STRATTEN ENVIRONMENTAL COUNCIL.

  “In here,” Hardie said, and they walked through the front door. The SEC office was one long, wide room with high rafters, bare brick walls, and a concrete floor in serious need of sweeping. There were some desks and tables, lots of com
puters, aerial photos and maps tacked to the walls, and at least half a dozen dogs. Evidently, if you worked at SEC you could bring your dog to work. The place hummed with energy, and, for the most part, the crowd was young. Lots of beards and flannel shirts with faded jeans.

  The Reverend Charles Quinn, Hardie’s father, was in the midst of a serious conversation when he looked over and saw Theo. Loudly, he said, “Theo Boone, the man!” Others heard this and before Theo knew what was happening he was led, or sort of shoved, to a large wall. Tacked to it was the photo in the morning paper, except it had been enlarged many times over. It was gigantic, larger than life-size, and Theo was stunned to see himself and his dog blown up to the point that they covered an entire wall. His partial statement, “. . . fight the bypass and all the thugs who work for it,” was highlighted in bold letters and stretched across the top of the photo. While Theo was gawking at the wall, the room became quiet and the crowd gathered around him.

  Reverend Quinn said to the others, “I’d like to introduce to everyone Mr. Theodore Boone, the hero of the moment, the owner of the most famous dog in town, and a great friend of my son, Hardie.” Theo nodded awkwardly at the others. He would soon learn that only a handful of these people actually worked at the SEC. Most were volunteers, with the majority being students from Stratten College.

  A man named Sebastian Ryan stepped forward and shook Theo’s hand. He said, “I’m the director of the SEC and we’re delighted to have you join us here.” Theo was not aware that he had joined anything. He was suddenly very uncomfortable being the center of attention in a place he’d never been before. He said something like, “Yeah, sure, nice to meet you.”

  “How’s the dog?” someone asked from the crowd.

  “Doing great,” Theo said.

  “We’d like to meet him,” someone else said.

  “He’s not traveling much these days,” Theo said, and several thought it was funny. Others began drifting away. “Let’s get back to work,” Sebastian said, and the crowd broke up. Theo and Hardie followed Sebastian to the rear of the long room, where he had an open office tucked into a small wing. His desk had once been a wooden door but was now mounted on two cable spool pedestals, and, in Theo’s opinion, was perhaps the coolest desk he’d ever seen. There were no chairs around it, and Theo had already noticed that everyone at SEC worked standing up. No sitting. He made a mental note to ask his mother about this. Probably some new fad.