by John Grisham
“No, just thinking about Julio and his family and how difficult it must be for them.”
“You’re such a sweet kid, Teddy.”
If you only knew, Theo thought.
Perry Mason, in black and white, was in the midst of a big trial, and he was on the verge of losing the case. The judge was fed up with him. The jurors looked skeptical. The prosecutor was full of confidence. Suddenly, Perry looked into the crowd of spectators and called the name of a surprise witness. The witness took the stand and began telling a story far different from the one the prosecutor had put forth. The new story made perfect sense. The surprise witness withstood the cross-examination, and the jury found in favor of Perry Mason’s client.
Another happy ending. Another courtroom victory.
“Doesn’t work that way,” Mrs. Boone said. It was something she managed to say at least three times during every episode. “No such thing as a surprise witness.”
Theo saw an opening. “But what if a witness suddenly appeared? One that was crucial to finding the truth? And one that no one knew about?”
“If no one knew about him, how would he find his way to the courtroom?” Mr. Boone asked.
“What if he just appeared?” Theo replied. “What if an eyewitness read about the trial in the newspaper, or saw something about it on television, and came forward. No one knew he existed. No one knew he witnessed the crime. What would the judge do?”
It was rare that Theo could stump, even briefly, the other two lawyers in the family. His parents thought about his question. A couple of things were certain at this point. One, both parents would have an opinion. Two, there was no way they would agree.
His mother went first. “The prosecution cannot use a witness it has not disclosed to the court and the defense. The rules prohibit surprise witnesses.”
“But,” his father said, almost interrupting and obviously ready to argue, “if the prosecution doesn’t know about a witness, then the prosecution cannot disclose his identity. A trial is all about finding the truth. Denying an eyewitness the chance to testify is the same as hiding the truth.”
“The rules are the rules.”
“But the rules can be modified by the judge when necessary.”
“A conviction would not stand up on appeal.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Back and forth, back and forth. Theo grew quiet. He thought of reminding his parents that neither specialized in criminal law, but such a comment would probably draw fire from both. Such discussions were common in the Boone household, and Theo had learned much about the law over dinner, on the front porch, even riding down the road in the backseat.
For example, he had learned that his parents, as lawyers, were considered to be officers of the court. And as such, they had a duty to aid in the administration of justice. If other lawyers violated ethics, or if the police broke the rules, or if a judge got out of line, then his parents were supposed to take appropriate action. Many lawyers ignored this responsibility, according to his parents, but not them.
Theo was afraid to tell them about Julio’s cousin. Their sense of duty would probably force them to go straight to Judge Gantry. The cousin would be picked up by the police, dragged into court, forced to testify, then detained as an illegal immigrant. They would put him in jail, then some sort of detention center, where, according to Mr. Mount, he might spend months waiting to get shipped back to El Salvador.
Theo’s credibility would be ruined. A family would be seriously harmed.
But, a guilty man would be convicted. Otherwise, Pete Duffy would probably walk out of court a free man. He would get away with murder.
Theo choked down another bite of cold chicken.
He knew he would sleep little.
Chapter 11
The nightmares stopped just before sunrise, and Theo abandoned the notion of somehow finding meaningful rest. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom for a long time, waiting for sounds that his parents were up and moving about. He said good morning to Judge, who slept under the bed.
Theo had convinced himself many times throughout the night that he had no choice but to sit down with them early that morning and tell them the story of Julio’s cousin. He’d changed his mind many times. And he could not, he decided as he finally eased out of his bed, force himself to violate the promise he’d made to Julio and his cousin. He could not tell anyone. If a guilty man was about to walk free, then it wasn’t Theo’s problem.
Or was it?
He made the usual noise as he went about his morning ritual—shower, teeth, braces, the daily torture of deciding what to wear. As always, he thought of Elsa and her irritating habit of quickly inspecting his shirt, pants, and shoes to make sure it all matched and that none of it had been worn in the past three days.
He heard his father leave a few minutes before seven. He heard his mother in the den watching an early morning television show. At exactly seven thirty, Theo closed the door to his bathroom, opened his cell phone, and called Uncle Ike.
Ike was not an early riser. His sad little career of a small-time tax man wasn’t very demanding, and he didn’t start the day with a rush of enthusiasm. His work was dreary, something he had mentioned to Theo on many occasions. And there was another problem. Ike drank too much, and this unfortunate habit made for slow mornings. Over the years, Theo had heard the adults whispering about Ike’s drinking. Elsa had once asked Vince a question dealing with Ike, and Vince replied with a curt, “Maybe if he’s sober.” Theo wasn’t supposed to hear that, but Theo heard a lot more around the office than the others knew.
The call was finally answered with a scratchy and rude, “Is this Theo?”
“Yes, Ike, good morning. Sorry to bother you so early.” Theo was speaking as softly as possible into the phone.
“No problem, Theo. I assume you have something on your mind.”
“Yes, can we talk this morning, early? At your office? Something real important has come up and I’m not sure I can discuss it with my parents.”
“Well, sure, Theo. What time?”
“Maybe a few minutes after eight. School starts at eight thirty. If I leave too early Mom will get suspicious.”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“Thanks, Ike.”
Theo hurried through breakfast, kissed his mom good-bye, spoke to Judge, and was on his bike racing down Mallard Lane at straight-up eight o’clock.
Ike was at his desk with a tall paper cup of steaming coffee and a huge cinnamon swirl coated with at least an inch of frosting. It looked delicious, but Theo had just finished his cereal. Plus, he had no appetite.
“Are you okay?” Ike said as Theo sat down, on the very edge of his chair.
“I guess. I need to talk to someone in confidence, someone I can trust, someone who knows something about the law.”
“Have you murdered someone? Robbed a bank?”
“No.”
“You seem awfully uptight,” Ike said as he pulled off a huge bite of the cinnamon swirl and stuffed it in his mouth.
“It’s the Duffy case, Ike. I might know something about whether Mr. Duffy is guilty or not.”
Ike kept chewing as he leaned forward on his elbows. The wrinkles around his eyes squeezed together as he glared at Theo. “Go on.”
“There is a witness out there, a guy nobody knows about, who saw something at the time of the murder.”
“And you know who it is?”
“Yes, and I promised not to tell.”
“How in the world did you come across this guy?”
“Through a kid at school. I can’t tell you anything else, Ike. I promised I wouldn’t.”
Ike swallowed hard, then grabbed the cup and took a long sip of the coffee. His eyes never left Theo. He really wasn’t that surprised. His nephe
w knew more lawyers, court clerks, judges, and policemen than anyone else in town.
“And whatever this unknown witness saw out there would have a big impact on the trial, is that right?” Ike asked.
“Yes.”
“Has this witness talked to the police or lawyers or anyone involved with the case?”
“No.”
“And this witness is unwilling to come forward at this time?”
“Yes.”
“This witness is afraid of something?”
“Yes.”
“Would the testimony of this witness help convict Mr. Duffy, or would it help acquit him?”
“Convict, no doubt.”
“Have you talked to this witness?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes. He’s telling the truth.”
Another long drink of coffee. A smacking of the lips. Ike’s eyes were drilling holes in Theo’s.
Ike continued. “Today is Thursday, the third full day of trial. From what I hear, Judge Gantry is determined to finish this week, even if that means holding court on Saturday. So the trial is probably half finished.”
Theo nodded. His uncle stuffed another large bite into his mouth and chewed slowly. A minute passed.
Ike finally swallowed and said, “So the question is, obviously, what, if anything, could or should be done about this witness at this point in the trial?”
“That’s it,” Theo said.
“Yes, and from what I gather Mr. Jack Hogan needs a few surprises. The prosecution started with a weak case and it’s only grown weaker.”
“I thought you weren’t following the trial.”
“I have friends, Theo. Sources.”
Ike jumped to his feet and walked to the far end of the room where some old shelves were filled with law books. He ran a finger along the spines of several, then snatched one off a shelf and began thumbing through the pages. He returned to his desk, sat down, placed the book in front of him, and searched for whatever was on his mind. Finally, after a long silence, he said, “Here it is. Under our rules of procedure, a judge in a criminal trial has the authority to declare a mistrial if the judge thinks that something improper has occurred. It gives a few examples: a juror gets contacted by someone with an interest in the outcome; an important witness gets sick or can’t testify for some reason; key evidence disappears. Stuff like that.”
Theo knew this. “Does it cover surprise witnesses?” he asked.
“Not specifically, but it’s a pretty broad rule that allows the judge to do whatever he thinks is right. The argument could be made that the absence of an important witness is grounds for a mistrial.”
“What happens after a mistrial?”
“The charges are not dismissed. Another trial is rescheduled.”
“When?”
“It’s up to the judge, but in this case I suspect Gantry wouldn’t wait too long. A couple of months. Enough time for this secret witness to get his act together.”
Theo’s mind was racing so fast he couldn’t decide what to say next.
Ike said, “So, Theo, the question is, How do you convince Judge Gantry to declare a mistrial before the case goes to the jury? Before the jury finds Mr. Duffy not guilty, when in fact he is guilty?”
“I don’t know. That’s where you come in, Ike. I need your help.”
Ike shoved the book aside and peeled off another piece of the cinnamon swirl. He chewed it while he pondered the situation. “Here’s what we do,” he said, still chewing. “You go to school. I’ll go over to the courtroom and have a look. I’ll do some more research, maybe talk to a friend or two. I won’t use your name. Believe me, Theo, I’ll always protect you. Can you call me during lunch?”
“Sure.”
“Take off.”
When Theo was at the door, Ike said, “Why haven’t you told your parents?”
“You think I should?”
“Not yet. Maybe later.”
“They’re very ethical, Ike. You know that. They are officers of the court and they might force me to reveal what I know. It’s complicated.”
“Theo, it’s too complicated for a thirteen-year-old.”
“I think I agree.”
“Call me during lunch.”
“Will do, Ike. Thanks.”
During recess, as Theo was hustling away to find April, someone called his name from down the hall. It was Sandy Coe, racing to catch up.
“Theo,” he said. “Got a minute?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Look, I just wanted to tell you that my parents went to see that bankruptcy lawyer, that Mozingo guy, and he promised them that we are not going to lose our house.”
“That’s great, Sandy.”
“He said they would have to go through a bankruptcy—all that stuff you explained to me—but in the end we get to keep the house.” Sandy reached into his backpack, pulled out a small envelope, and handed it to Theo. “This is from my mom. I told her about you, and I think this is a thank-you note.”
Theo reluctantly took it. “She didn’t have to, Sandy. It was nothing.”
“Nothing? Theo, we get to keep our house.”
And with that, Theo noticed the moisture in Sandy’s eyes. He was ready to cry. Theo fist-pumped him and said, “My pleasure, Sandy. And if I can help again, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Theo.”
During Government, Mr. Mount asked Theo to give the class an update on the Duffy trial. Theo explained that the prosecution was attempting to prove that Mr. and Mrs. Duffy had been through a rocky marriage and that they had almost filed for divorce two years earlier. Several of their friends had been called to testify, but they had been embarrassed—in Theo’s opinion—by harsh cross-examinations from Mr. Clifford Nance.
For a second, Theo thought about opening his laptop and reading the courtroom dialogue hot off the press, but then thought better of it. He wasn’t committing a crime by hacking into the court reporter’s site, but there was definitely something wrong with it.
As soon as class was over and the boys headed for the cafeteria, Theo ducked into a restroom and called Ike. It was almost twelve thirty. “He’s gonna walk,” Ike said as he answered the phone. “No way Hogan can get a conviction.”
“How much did you watch?” Theo asked, hiding in a stall.
“All morning. Clifford Nance is too good and Hogan has lost his way. I watched the jurors. They don’t like Pete Duffy, but the proof isn’t there. He’ll walk.”
“But he’s guilty, Ike.”
“If you say so, Theo. But I don’t know what you know. No one does.”
“What do we do?”
“I’m still working on it. Stop by after school.”
“You got it.”
Chapter 12
The most popular girl in the eighth grade was a curly- haired brunette named Hallie. She was very cute and outgoing and loved to flirt. She was the captain of the cheerleaders, but she could also play. None of the boys would challenge her in tennis and she had once beaten Brian in both the 100-meter freestyle and 50-meter breaststroke. Since her interests centered around athletics, Theo was on her B list. Maybe even C.
But because her dog had a temper, Theo was about to move up.
The dog was a schnauzer that frequently became irritated when left alone at home throughout the day. Somehow the dog escaped through a pet door, dug under a fence around the backyard, and was picked up by Animal Control half a mile from home. Theo heard this story as he was finishing lunch. Hallie and two of her friends rushed to the table where Theo was eating, and the story spilled forth. Hallie was distraught, in tears, and Theo couldn’t help but notice how cute she was even when she was crying. It was a big moment for Theo.
She wiped her cheeks and said, “Yes. Rocky was picked up a few months ago.”
“Will they gas him?” Edward asked. Edward was part of the group that had gathered around Theo and Hallie and her friends. Hallie usually attracted a crowd of boys. The thought of her dog getting gassed made her cry even more.
“Shut up,” Theo snapped at Edward, who was a klutz anyway. “No, they won’t gas him.”
Hallie said, “My dad is out of town and my mother is seeing patients until late this afternoon. I don’t know what to do.”
Theo was shoving his lunch aside and opening his laptop. “Take it easy, Hallie. I’ve done this before.” He punched a few keys while the group inched closer together. “I assume the dog is licensed,” Theo said.
Strattenburg had an ordinance that required every dog to be licensed and accounted for. Strays were picked up and kept at the Pound for thirty days. If no one adopted a stray after thirty days, then the poor dog was put to sleep. Or “gassed,” as Edward so crudely put it. But they didn’t really use gas.
Hallie’s family was more affluent than most. Her father ran a company and her mother was a busy doctor. Of course their dog would be properly licensed. “Yes,” she said. “In my dad’s name.”
“And that is?” Theo asked, tapping keys.
“Walter Kershaw.”
Theo typed. Everyone waited. The crying had stopped.
“Okay,” Theo said as he pecked away and studied the screen. “I’m just checking the Animal Control Intake Log.” More pecking. “And here it is. Rocky was taken into the Pound at nine thirty this morning. He’s charged with violating the leash law, his second offense this year. The fine will be twenty bucks, plus eight more for boarding. A third offense will get him ten days in the slammer and a fine of a hundred bucks.”
“When can I get him?” Hallie asked.
“Animal Court is held from four until six each afternoon, four days a week, closed on Monday. Can you be in court this afternoon?”
“I guess, but don’t I need my parents?”