A Gambler's Jury

by Victor Methos

  I sighed and sat down. I scanned the audience and saw Teddy and his mom sitting in the corner. Teddy had his headphones on again and was smiling at the iPad. His mother stared straight ahead, and if she noticed me, she didn’t acknowledge it.

  The calendar ground away. Other attorneys’ cases were called, and when I tried to sneak in after them, Roscombe said, “Now now, Counselor, the end of the calendar is the proper time to learn from my great base of legal and humanitarian knowledge.”

  “Right,” I said, sitting back down. Perhaps I’d spoken a little too quickly with that comment.

  I had to have Kelly ask the courts and prosecutors to put off my afternoon court appearances, as there was no way I’d make them in time. By noon, I was sweating, aggravated, and again questioning why I had become a lawyer. I looked back at Teddy and his mom. Teddy was asleep on the benches and Riley was leaning her head against the wall as if she was getting there. Only a handful of people were left in the courtroom.

  The prosecutor was a slim man with glasses. He leaned back and said, “That’s what you get.”

  “Nice,” I replied. “You’re a true credit to your profession.”

  “Hey asshole, I’m doing God’s work. You’re the one doing the devil’s.”

  “The devil has Game of Thrones and bacon donuts. Choir music and angry sermons don’t compare.”

  He shook his head and turned away. That’d teach him to talk to strange lawyers loitering in courtrooms.

  By one thirty, I wanted to slash my wrists. I lay down on the floor behind the defense table, Teddy’s file covering my eyes from the harsh lighting. I slept a little, and then I listened to the defendants answering to Joseph Stalin on the bench. I made a game of it, trying to guess what each defendant looked like based on their voice. I was wrong every time.

  “Ms. Rollins, are you awake?”

  I jumped to my feet. The only people still in the audience were Teddy and Riley. I wiped the drool away from my lips and stood at the lectern.

  “Theodore Thorne, Judge.”

  “Mr. Thorne, please step forward.”

  Riley woke Teddy and helped him up to the lectern. He stood next to me and said, “Hi Danielle.”

  “Hey.”

  “Mr. Thorne, you are charged with one count of distribution of a controlled substance, a first-degree felony, punishable by a commitment of five years to life at the Utah State Prison. Here is a copy of the information against you. Do you understand the charges?”

  Teddy turned a vacant stare to me. This wasn’t the time to go into his competency, since if he said “no,” all that would happen is the judge would read it again. So I just nodded.

  “Yes,” he said, “my mama told me. And she said we could go to McDonald’s after and get an ice cream.”

  I thought maybe a pang of sympathy would cross Roscombe’s face, but the man was like stone. He nodded as if Teddy had said the most logical thing in the world. “Looks like he’s made bail. I’ll set this for a scheduling conference in two weeks.”

  “Your Honor, actually, I’ll be filing a motion to dismiss and would ask for a hearing.”

  “I don’t entertain motions until after a preliminary hearing, Counselor.”

  “He shouldn’t be forced to go through a preliminary hearing. The State completely lacks jurisdiction in this matter and—”

  “I know what the jurisdictional issues are. I approved the certification that he be tried as an adult.”

  “Then you understand, Your Honor, that this is just a ploy by the State to attempt to get around the legislature trying to, just a little bit, restrict their seemingly endless power to ruin the lives of average citizens. The district attorney’s office wants me to appeal this, and the supreme court is where this is gonna play out, so why don’t you just let me file my little motion, deny it, and let’s get this up to the big boys?”

  “The big boys?” He chuckled. “You just don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?”

  “That’s never been my strong suit, no. But in the words of Forrest Gump, I know what love is.”

  He sighed. “Mr. Thorne’s preliminary hearing is set for two weeks from today. After which, if I find enough evidence to bind the case over, you can file whatever motion you like. Now, are you done?”

  I looked at Teddy, who had this wide-eyed expression on his face like he was at the circus, and I knew he had no idea about what was going on. In his hands I saw a small doll: a monkey.

  “Fine, two weeks,” I said. “Good to see you again . . . Mia.”

  I turned and left before he could jail me again, and Riley and Teddy followed. We rode the elevator down in silence until I said, “What’s the monkey, buddy?”

  “My daddy got it for me at Lagoon. You had to throw the ball and he threw the ball and won this for me.”

  Riley smiled softly. “He was ten. He’s kept it ever since.”

  We stopped on the courthouse steps. “The prelim is a mini-trial,” I told Riley. “They’re gonna put on witnesses and we’re gonna cross-examine them. I’m sure Mia there is going to find enough evidence to move forward, and then we’ll file our motion to dismiss this case. If it’s not granted, I’m going to file what’s called an interlocutory appeal, meaning an appeal while the case is still pending, and eventually I’m sure the Utah Supreme Court will smack down Hoover County. What they’re doing is blatantly illegal. That’s just how they roll, I guess.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” She looked at Teddy. “Let’s go, Teddy.”

  “Danielle,” he said, putting both hands on my shoulders. “I have great news.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my birthday on Friday. And . . . and I’m gonna have a party. Will you come?”

  I paused. I had never, not once, mingled with a client. I kept it strictly business, and that had served me well. But something in his face told me I couldn’t refuse.

  “Sure, buddy. I’ll be there.”

  He turned to his mom. “Danielle’s coming!”

  She just looked away and led him down the stairs. I thought I should ask them what time and where, but she didn’t seem to be in a talking mood so I let it go. I went back to my car and sat there in the boiling heat for a moment.

  This wasn’t some random attack on a statute that Hoover County didn’t like; this seemed more orchestrated, and I had a feeling Roscombe knew more than he was letting on. I would have to be careful going forward. I couldn’t trust Hoover County or Roscombe any more than a pretty girl could trust an unguarded drink at a frat party.

  I started the car and pulled away. I would need to talk to the other boys in the case before meeting with the big cheese: the confidential informant.

  16

  Clint Andrews and Fredrick Willmore. I had to confer with these two gentlemen to find out if Kevin was telling the truth. Will refused to break the professional rules of conduct and speak with people already represented by attorneys because he was retiring soon. I couldn’t blame him. The prosecutor would file disciplinary proceedings against him and try to take his private investigator license. They’d lose, but it could mean months of proceedings, and he was on the verge of getting the hell outta here.

  Clint Andrews went to a private school named Laterford. It was locked down tight, unlike public schools. The entrances all required scan cards to get in. I thought for a few minutes and then got out of my car.

  Inside, I waved to the secretary in the front office, who said over the intercom, “Yes?”

  “Hi, I’m Patty Andrews. Um, Clint Andrews’s mom. I just needed to talk to him really quick.”

  “You’re his mom?”

  “Yup. Sure am.”

  She eyed me but didn’t say anything. It looked like I had struck gold and she didn’t actually know who his mother was.

  “I don’t need him released,” I said. “I just need to talk to him for five minutes and he’s not answering his phone. We can do it right here in front of you if you’re worried I’m a serial ki
ller or something.”

  Apparently my joke didn’t go over well because she sat there eyeing me like she was debating calling the cops, but then just said, “Wait a moment.”

  I turned around and stared out over the parking lot. I had the urge to light a cigarette but thought the warden might have an issue with it.

  I turned back and saw a young man speaking to the secretary: Clint. I turned away so he wouldn’t see my face and just waited. Eventually the doors opened and he stepped outside onto the sidewalk.

  “Clint!” I said, giving him a hug.

  “Who are—”

  I put my arm around his shoulders and turned away from the secretary so she couldn’t see our faces.

  “I’m a lawyer on the Teddy Thorne case. I didn’t want to alarm your secretary so just play along.”

  “I, um, like, got a lawyer.”

  He spoke with an upward inflection at the end of everything he said, as though the entire world was a question mark to him. Ol’ Clint may have been a couple of arrows short of a quiver, probably from constant pot smoking—something I could smell on his clothes and hair from a mile away.

  “You remember the night you got arrested?” I said, ignoring his statement.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He shrugged. “We went down to Richardson. Kevin said they had to do something.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Him and Teddy.”

  “What’d he say they had to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? You just accepted that you guys were gonna stop in a shady neighborhood with a gym bag for no reason?”

  “I didn’t ask. He said we had to go do something and I said okay.” He looked back toward the secretary. “Um, can I go now? I’m missing gym.”

  “In the police reports, you said Teddy was the one who suggested you guys go down to Richardson and visit somebody. You remember telling the cops that?”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah. They were like . . . I don’t know. They were saying, like, is this what happened. And my dad was there and he just kind of nodded and so I said yeah.”

  “Teddy never said anything about going to Richardson to deliver a bag?”

  “Yeah. I think. He just, like, kept talkin’ about games or some shit. Playing video games.”

  I folded my arms and leaned back against the wall. Hoover cops, man. They got a theory in their heads about how this played out, and then they coached the witnesses into saying what they wanted them to say.

  “Thanks, Clint. Have fun in gym.”

  “All right.”

  I watched him go back inside and then hurried to my car before the warden deduced that I wasn’t his mom.

  Unlike Clint, Freddy Willmore didn’t go to a fancy private school. He went to Central High, a high school devoted to one of the most poverty-stricken districts in the state.

  I parked as close to the building as I could and got out. Central didn’t have the pristine lawns and nice cars like the parking lots of Laterford and Skyline. It had crumbling brick walls and a couple of broken windows. The front doors looked like they could fall off their hinges at any second, and the interior smelled like an old gym locker.

  I went to the administrative office. The secretary here was on the phone and rolled her eyes when she saw me. The walls were covered in chipping paint and black stains.

  “What do you need?”

  “Hi, can I speak to Freddy Willmore, please?”

  “One second and I’ll page him.”

  No questions about who I was or what I needed to see him about. I suddenly felt bad for the kids who attended here, knowing that the school cared about nothing but churning them out as quickly as possible. I wondered how big the advantage was for the kids twenty miles away at Laterford.

  A few minutes later, a slim cat with short hair and a red T-shirt came in. The secretary pointed to me. I offered my hand and Freddy shook.

  “Freddy, I’m an attorney on the Teddy Thorne case. I just have a couple of questions for you.”

  “I’m already represented. You should probably get in contact with my attorney.”

  “I know you are . . . but Teddy’s had a hard enough life without this shit being hung on his neck, hasn’t he? Can you just give him a break and help me out?”

  Apparently, Freddy instantly knew what I was speaking about because I saw the sympathy in his eyes—an emotion I had looked for and didn’t see in Judge Roscombe.

  “He wasn’t the one who suggested you guys go to Richardson that night, was he?”

  Freddy glanced at the secretary and then shook his head. “I didn’t hear him say it.”

  “Did the cops feed you that?”

  “They said that Kevin and Clint had already told them it was Teddy. When I tried to tell them I didn’t hear who said it, they said that they had what they needed. So I just kind of agreed with them.”

  “So who did suggest it? Kevin?”

  “I don’t know. I was playing a game, and then Kevin said we’re going to Richardson. I didn’t hear who first said it.”

  “Freddy, they’ve charged Teddy as an adult, in front of a judge who sends all adults convicted of distributing narcotics to prison. Do you know what would happen to Teddy in prison?”

  He looked away in disgust. “I know. I feel horrible about it. But I swear, I don’t know why we went down there or whose idea it was.”

  Unlike Stonerboy back at Laterford, Freddy was articulate and intelligent. It seemed odd that he would so willingly go along with stringing up Teddy for something Teddy might not have done. Then again, cops can be extremely intimidating, especially for people with no exposure to the system. I had no doubt Freddy was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t agree with the story Kevin and Clint had already put forward.

  “So what happened when you got to the house?” I asked.

  “Kevin hopped out and took Teddy with him. They went to the door, and a few seconds later all these cops swarmed us. That’s all I know.”

  “You didn’t know he had coke in the bag?”

  “No. I never would’ve gone with him if I’d known that. I’ve got a scholarship to the University of Florida. If I get a drug conviction, it’s gone.”

  “So you let Teddy take the blame, hoping you’d slide, huh?”

  He swallowed. “I . . .”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for talking to me anyway. You did wrong, but you can make it right. I’m going to send my investigator out to interview you and he’s going to record it. Is that cool?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”

  I nodded. Despite what he’d done, I felt bad for the kid. I could see holes in his shoes and his shirt looked a few years past its prime. He probably came from poverty, and poverty had given him the drive to work hard and find a way out. He was just trying to preserve that. I would be careful with him and make sure I didn’t get him into any more trouble than I needed to.

  “Hey,” he said, “tell Teddy I’m sorry.”

  “I will,” I said, handing Freddy my card. “Call me if you want to talk about anything else. I’ll send out that investigator today or tomorrow.”

  I was leaving when I stopped and said, “Hey, out of curiosity, how’d you get a lawyer already?”

  “Kevin’s dad hired one for me.”

  “Huh. Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Some family lawyer for them.”

  “How do you know Kevin and Clint? You guys all go to different schools.”

  “We grew up together. We lived in the same neighborhood when we were kids. My dad left us when I was, like, ten, and we had to move. But they’re still my best friends.”

  I nodded. “Thanks again, Freddy. You’re doing the right thing.”

  I left the school with a light, airy feeling in my guts: I’d get Freddy on record explaining the cops had fed him that story, and Hoover County would cut us a deal. They wouldn’t risk that c
oming out to a jury because then all three of the boys’ stories would be put in doubt.

  I felt so good that I decided I would celebrate with a midday drink.

  17

  After my drink, I went to my next hearing, which was only an arraignment, and I literally did nothing but stand there and verify my client’s address. Young kid, twenty-one, the girl from my blind date, who had puked on Chris.

  As we were walking out of court, she said, “You think you can save my license?”

  “Probably. There are deals we can work out that don’t suspend it. Just make sure to stay out of trouble until then.”

  “I will. I’m just glad they didn’t find the pot and gun under my seat.”

  “Let’s just keep that between us and never bring it up again, shall we?”

  “Oh, okay. That’s probably a good idea.”

  The rest of my day wasn’t much different. One court appearance after another, followed by paperwork. Will and I had had lunch at the Purple Iguana, and he talked for an hour about all the things he was going to do his first week in Fiji. Finally he said, “Listen to me going on and on without asking about you. How’s the Thorne case?”

  “Good. Found out cops fed at least one of the kids the story. I need you to go out and interview Freddy Willmore. He’s going to verify that he doesn’t know who suggested driving to Richardson and that the cops pressured him into saying it.”

  “Isn’t he represented?”

  “Just get him on record waiving his right to have his attorney present.”

  “That’s still skirting the line, lady.”

  “Will, just do it.”

  I noticed a few women at a table next to us checking Will out. It always happened when we were in public and he seemed completely oblivious to the attention.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. For you, anything.” He took a bite of food and then wiped his lips with a napkin. “So that’s pretty cool, huh? You think you can get it outright dismissed?”

  “Who knows? If it was Salt Lake I’d say yes, but Hoover fights everything to the death, even when they’re wrong. It may still have to go to trial.”