The Activist tb-4

by John Grisham

  Theo and Hardie stood and looked at the brick walls, all of which were covered with photos, diplomas, and maps. The first thing Theo saw was a diploma from the Stanford School of Law. Sebastian Ryan was young, perhaps not yet forty, and with his jeans, boots, and beard looked more like a hunting guide than an environmental lawyer.

  He said, “I hear both of your parents are lawyers, Theo.”

  Theo nodded.

  “And I hear you’re a pretty good lawyer yourself.”

  “Not yet,” Theo said.

  “He knows a lot of law,” Hardie added.

  Sebastian was nervous and intense and not much for small talk. “We are attacking this bypass on many fronts. Abuse of eminent domain, destruction of natural resources, noise, pollution, an idiotic traffic plan, and so on. I have a wild idea that I’d like to share with you guys.”

  Theo and Hardie nodded because they really had no choice.

  Sebastian walked to the wall on his left and pointed to a large map of the proposed bypass. He pointed closer and said, “This is Jackson Elementary School, prekindergarten through grade five. Four hundred students. Right now it sits off to itself, isolated from traffic and noise, just minding its own business, educating little kids while the birds chirp outside and the breeze blows the leaves here and there. However, economic development is on the way. The bypass rips through this parking lot here and comes to within a hundred yards of the school’s front door. So in two years there will be four lanes of heavy traffic, big trucks and buses blasting diesel fumes into the air while cars fly by doing eighty miles an hour. It’s a disaster, and the sad part is that no one has carefully studied the impact the bypass will have on the health of these kids. The governor doesn’t have a clue, nor do his people. The state highway department hasn’t studied it. We’re raising money right now to hire experts who can analyze it and make predictions, but money is tight.”

  Theo doubted he and Hardie were expected to write big checks. He asked, “Where do we fit in?”

  “Organize the kids. They’re too young for Facebook, but they have older brothers and sisters. Four hundred students equals about three hundred families—some have more than one at the school. Organize the kids, the parents, the teachers. I like the idea of kids—you two—getting other kids involved and angry. If the kids get mad, then the parents get mad, and, of course, the parents are the voters. It’s all coming down to politics. What do you think?”

  Theo and Hardie were frowning at the map, not sure what to say.

  Sebastian never waited long for an answer. “And it gets better,” he said, taking a step to the side and pointing at the county’s new soccer complex near Jackson Elementary. “Look at this, the SSC—Stratten Soccer Complex. Opened two years ago and the site of ten new fields, all with lights.”

  “I play there,” Hardie said.

  “Do you know how many kids play soccer in this area?”

  “About a million,” Theo said.

  “A lot. Now, the bypass shaves off only three of the fields here on the eastern side, and, of course, the promise is that these fields will simply be relocated over on the western side. Two problems with that. First, you can’t believe any of the promises being made. Second, the state does not yet own the property where it’s promising to put these three fields. But let’s say the state keeps its word and relocates the three fields. That means on any afternoon from March through October there will be several hundred kids, parents, coaches, and other spectators at the complex trying to enjoy the games with four lanes of traffic roaring by.”

  “So we organize the soccer kids too,” Theo said.

  “Exactly. Thousands of them. Get the soccer crowd upset, and our five county commissioners will run for cover.”

  “It’s that easy?” Theo asked.

  “No, it’s not. Keep in mind, Theo, that a lot of folks who live here are in favor of the bypass. They’re tired of the traffic on Battle Street and they think this is the solution. Any bypass is a good bypass. Heard that?”

  “Yes. I read it in the newspaper.”

  “It’s not uncommon.”

  Sebastian stepped away from the map and rested his rear end on his desk. He said, “The idea here, guys, is for the kids in this community to get mad, involved, and vocal. On the one hand, you have the big guys—the politicians, the trucking companies, the contractors, the businessmen who write big checks to the politicians—and on the other hand you have a bunch of kids who are about to get run over. It could be a great story, and, frankly, we need all the help we can get. This is an uphill fight, and the big money is against us. The public hearing is next month, and we’re working around the clock.”

  “When will the commissioners vote?” Hardie asked.

  “At the public hearing. They’re not talking much, but it looks like two are in favor of the bypass, one is opposed, and the other two are undecided. But who knows what these guys will do. Frankly, right now, I’m not that optimistic.” His cell phone vibrated. He yanked it out of his pocket, looked at it, and decided not to answer. Then his desk phone began buzzing, and he ignored that too.

  Theo loved this guy. He was a lawyer, a tough cool guy with an important job and a passion for saving the environment. He seemed fearless, ready for a good fight, ready to take on the big boys. Even his office was cool, so unlike the rather stuffy ones at Boone & Boone.

  Sebastian said, “We need your help, guys. Whatta you say? You can make a real difference here if you jump in and start fighting. We’re on the same team.”

  Hardie looked at Theo, who looked at Sebastian, who was nodding as if to say, “Are you guys tough enough?”

  “I’m ready,” Hardie said.

  “How about it, Theo?” Sebastian said. “They’ve already tried to kill your dog.”

  Theo flashed back to the nightmare of Judge being pounded with a stick, and bleeding, and looking up at Theo with those painful, frightened eyes. Theo thought about his dog, and he thought about the Quinn family and their beloved farm, and the more he thought the more determined he became. He looked at Hardie, then he glared at Sebastian, gritted his teeth, and said, “I’m in.”

  “All right!” Sebastian said as he slapped him on the shoulder.

  At precisely 7:00 p.m. on Thursday evening, the three Boones plus Judge sat down for dinner. As always, on Thursdays, it was a roasted chicken from a Turkish deli, served with hummus, pita bread, and, tonight, couscous.

  It was not Theo’s favorite meal of the week. Judge, however, loved the chicken. He seemed to be improving by the hour, moving around more and sleeping less.

  Mrs. Boone asked, “Theo, where did you get off to this afternoon?”

  Theo anticipated this. Someone in the law firm usually noticed if he came and went, and that was usually Elsa. She could be on the phone with two lines holding, and chatting with a client at the front door, and reading e-mails on her screen, all at the same time, and still know precisely when Theo sneaked out the back door. He swallowed hard and said, “Hardie and I rode over to the Stratten Environmental Council.”

  His mother was intrigued and said, “Oh really.”

  His father frowned and said, “Why’d you go there?”

  Theo said, “Hardie’s father was there and he wanted me to stop by. On a wall, they have this huge blowup of the photo of Judge and me leaving court last night.”

  “So you’re the hero?” his mother asked.

  “Sort of, along with Judge.”

  “Did you meet Sebastian Ryan?” she asked.

  “I did, a real nice guy. He wants Hardie and me to help organize a group of kids to oppose the bypass.”

  Mrs. Boone was still smiling, and she was also watching Mr. Boone, as if she expected some harsh words. Theo wanted his mother around for this discussion.

  Mr. Boone asked, “What sort of a group of kids?”

  “Students at Jackson Elementary and also the soccer kids.” Theo took a big bite as if such involvement was no big deal.

  “That’s a
great idea, Theo,” she said. “How do you plan to do it?”

  “We haven’t decided yet.”

  “Why do you insist on getting involved in this mess, Theo?” Mr. Boone asked slowly and firmly.

  Theo’s reply had been practiced a few times. He took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and said, “Because I think it’s wrong for the Quinns to lose a farm that’s been in the family for over a hundred years. It’s wrong for the state to take private property for unnecessary projects. It’s dangerous to build big roads next to schools and soccer parks, especially when no one has studied the pollution. It’s wrong for politicians to help their buddies make money on stuff like this. Lots of reasons, Dad.”

  “And all good ones, I might add,” Mrs. Boone said quickly as she glared at her husband.

  Theo wasn’t finished. “And most importantly, I’m ticked off at the men who hurt Judge. If you had been there when they tried to kill him, you might have a different attitude.”

  “Don’t lecture me, son.”

  “I’m not lecturing anyone.”

  “He certainly is not,” Mrs. Boone said. The battle lines were clearly drawn. Two against one. Mr. Boone was in the process of losing badly. She went on, “I think it’s admirable that Theo wants to get involved in this fight. Most thirteen-year-olds could not care less.”

  Go Mom!, Theo thought as he cut another piece of chicken. You got him on the ropes, go for the knockout. But a truce came over the conversation and the Boones ate in silence.

  Finally, Theo asked, “Dad, is it okay if I do this?”

  To which his mother quickly responded, “Of course it’s all right, Theo. You have some strong feelings about this, so go to work. Right, Woods?”

  Woods Boone was in no position to argue, and he knew it. He surrendered with a weak, “I suppose.”

  Chapter 20

  After lunch on Friday, Theo and Hardie took advantage of a one-hour study hall and met in the library. The school’s Internet server was faster than their laptops, so they could save time by using the desktop models that were available to all students upon request. When they were properly logged in, and when the IT clerk disappeared, they quickly began searching for information. The soccer data was easier to retrieve than anything from the Stratten County School System.

  The night before, after they had left the SEC offices (as full-blown activists), Hardie spent an hour on Facebook. He played for a team called Red United, affectionately known as RU, and RU had its own Facebook page. He searched other pages of other teams in the Under 14 division, and quickly put together a directory of about one hundred players, girls and boys. Tucked away in the library, Hardie roared through Facebook and added dozens of names to his list.

  Theo hammered away at the school system. According to the official website, Jackson Elementary currently had 415 students in prekindergarten through fifth grades, but there was no listing of these students and certainly no information about them. There was a nice teachers’ directory with color photos and e-mail addresses and such, and Theo decided this could be a valuable place to start. The Parent Teacher Organization (PTO) had a separate website with a few names and contact information but little more.

  For almost an hour, the two were lost in their rambling searches for the names of people—students, teachers, parents, administrators—anyone who might be contacted with whatever Theo and Hardie decided to use in their little campaign.

  After school, Theo was bored and killing time around the office. He planned to meet April Finnemore at Guff’s Frozen Yogurt on Main Street at four o’clock, something they tried to do once a week. Her older siblings had fled an unhappy home, and April was often alone. Theo didn’t feel sorry for her because she didn’t want sympathy; plus, she was bright and funny and a gifted artist. He didn’t consider her to be a girlfriend, not in the romantic sense, just a good friend who happened to be a girl. Most of his pals did not understand how it was possible to have a friend who was a girl but not actually a girlfriend. Theo had grown weary of trying to explain this. It was complicated.

  Vince, the paralegal who worked for Mrs. Boone, popped into Theo’s office and said, “Say, Theo, could you run these by the clerk’s office and file them before five p.m.?” As he asked this question, he tossed down a folder filled with documents. It was probably papers in one of the many divorce cases Mrs. Boone had at the moment.

  Theo jumped to his feet and said, “Sure. I’ll go right now.”

  “Thanks,” Vince said and disappeared.

  There were few things Theo enjoyed more than a trip to the Stratten County Courthouse, and any excuse was good enough to make him hustle over there. He reached down, patted Judge on the head, explained he would be back shortly, then grabbed the folder and took off.

  The courthouse was the largest building in town, and by far the most important. It had big, thick columns around the front entrance and long wide steps around them. Theo parked his bike at a rack and bounded up the steps. The main lobby was normally busy with lawyers, policemen, and clerks, but Theo knew from experience the place would be deserted late on a Friday afternoon. He’d heard his mother complain that it was impossible to find a judge after lunch on Friday, and he’d heard Ike tell stories of lawyers sneaking away to their favorite bars to recap another long hard week.

  The lobby was deserted. Theo ran up two flights of stairs to the third floor, where Family Court was located. Inside, he found his favorite clerk of all, the young and gorgeous Jenny, the secret love of his life and a woman he would marry if she wasn’t already married and pregnant.

  “Well, hello, Theo,” she said with a smile. Her soft blue eyes always twinkled when she smiled at Theo, and this always made him blush. He could feel his cheeks burning.

  “Hi Jenny,” he said. “Need to file these.” He handed over the folder and she opened it.

  “Great picture of you and Judge in the paper,” she said as she went about her job of sorting out the papers. Theo just stood on his side of the tall counter and stared at her. “Thanks,” he said.

  “How’s Judge?”

  “He’s doing great. Still banged up, but he’ll survive.”

  “I hear those guys got out of jail this morning.”

  “That’s right,” Theo said. “Their lawyer finally got an appeal posted and got ’em out, but they’re not finished. They’ll spend some time eventually.”

  “I sure hope so,” she said, stamping the papers as she shuffled them about. “I’ll file these right away, Theo.”

  “Thanks Jenny. See you later.” He should have turned around and started his exit, but, as always, Theo couldn’t help but stare just a bit too long.

  “Bye Theo,” she said with yet another smile. “Take care of Judge.”

  “I will.”

  As Theo left the clerk’s office, he realized his heart rate had increased. This usually happened when he was around Jenny. On the way out, he peeked into Judge Henry Gantry’s courtroom, the largest and grandest of all, and was not surprised to see it dark and empty. He made his way down the stairs, looking at the massive oil paintings of dead judges. As he ambled through the main lobby, someone called out, “Hey Theo.” He turned around and saw a face that was vaguely familiar, that of a guy in his forties with shaggy hair and a beard and battered sneakers.

  “Norris Flay, with the Gazette,” he said as he approached Theo. Flay was apparently one of those men who felt uneasy shaking hands with a thirteen-year-old kid, so he made no effort. He looked down, Theo looked up and said, “How you doing?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Great.”

  “Got a minute?”

  Not really. It was ten minutes before 4:00 p.m. and April would soon arrive at Guff’s Frozen Yogurt, which was only a few blocks away. The son of two lawyers, Theo had been raised in an atmosphere of distrust when it came to reporters. Their job was to dig and reveal facts and details that people preferred to keep quiet. As lawyers, Theo’s parents lived by a code of protecting, at all costs, the
privacy of their clients. Theo was often amazed when he saw lawyers on television hotdogging it for the cameras as they blathered on and on about their clients and the details of their cases. Not so around good old Boone & Boone. His father was fond of saying, “Lawyers and cameras are a vile mixture.”

  “Maybe,” Theo said cautiously.

  “Did you like your picture in the paper yesterday morning?” Flay asked proudly.

  “It was okay,” Theo said, glancing around. “What’s up?”

  Flay glanced around, too, and a casual bystander might have thought a drug deal was taking place. “You leaving?”

  “Yep,” Theo replied.

  “Good. I’ll walk out with you.”

  They left the lobby, walked through the front doors, and stopped in the shadows of one of the columns. “How’s the dog?” Flay asked.

  “Fine.” Theo had no idea why Flay would want to talk to him, and the longer they were together the more nervous he became. What if someone saw them whispering in the shadows on the front steps of the county courthouse?

  Flay lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke above Theo’s head. He was shifty eyed and a little jumpy, and Theo wanted to bolt.

  “Look, Theo, there are a lot of rumors about this bypass and issues related to it. I have a source telling me a lot of local businessmen are pushing hard because they plan to make a buck, know what I mean?”

  Theo was staring at his shoes.

  Flay went on. “Especially the developers. Looks like they’re a bunch of vultures just waiting for the bypass to get approved, then they’ll swoop down and line both sides of it with shopping centers and fast-food joints. Before you know it, they’ll have the bypass jammed up as bad as Battle Street, know what I mean?”