A Gambler's Jury

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A Gambler's Jury Page 12

by Victor Methos


  “Seems weird that they’re fighting so hard, doesn’t it? I mean, for a kid like Teddy.”

  “They want to change the law, and this case just fell into their laps. It was just the wrong place and the wrong time.”

  “So justice is just a matter of luck.”

  “I wish it was a matter of luck. It doesn’t even seem to be that.”

  He hesitated. “You know, I’m proud of you.”

  “For what?”

  “For doing this. For taking care of him. You could’ve left him at the homeless shelter and your life would’ve been a lot easier.”

  We stopped. His car was parked at the curb in front of a building painted yellow and red. We both watched Teddy playing with a grasshopper. He picked it up as gently as possible and moved it away from the street. If it hopped back, he’d pick it up and move it to safety again.

  “I’ve made a decision,” I said. “After Stefan’s wedding, I’m moving.”

  “Moving where?”

  “Back to LA.”

  “When did you make that decision?”

  “Right now. While we were walking.” I put a cigarette in my mouth and this time lit it. “I can’t handle it. He knows I love the shit out of him. And if I can’t be with him, so be it. That’s my fault. But I can’t live in the same city with him and his wife, running into them everywhere, hearing from other people what they’re up to. I gotta go and start over.”

  I don’t know if it was just the way the afternoon light from the setting sun was hitting Will or what, but I thought he seemed sad. He folded his arms and looked down at the ground and nodded.

  “If you think that’s best,” he said.

  “What the hell do I know about what’s best? But it seems like something that should happen.”

  “Wait, what about Jack?”

  “I’m not going through a custody fight. I’ll ask him who he wants to live with.”

  “Ouch. That’s going to hurt one of you pretty damn bad.”

  I nodded as I puffed on my cigarette and then held it low as I watched Teddy. He was spinning in a circle and clapping as the grasshopper moved away from the road and went toward the building.

  “Look, I gotta run,” Will said. “But seriously, thanks for inviting me. I had fun.”

  I watched him get into his car and drive away. The smoke tasted bad right now, and I tossed the cigarette into the gutter and went over to Teddy.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s get something to eat.”

  23

  After a dinner of pancakes at Teddy’s insistence, I put him in my bed again, and we went through the entire SpongeBob debacle. When he was finally asleep, I asked my neighbor Beth to keep an eye on him for a few minutes and then drove up to his parents’ house. The lights were on. It was worth a shot—maybe they missed the kid and realized their mistake.

  I went up to the door and knocked. Teddy’s father answered.

  “Don’t come here again.” He slammed the door in my face.

  Okay, so maybe their hearts hadn’t softened quite yet. I took out my phone and dialed Riley’s number. It went to voice mail.

  “Hey,” I said, “it’s Dani Rollins. Teddy’s staying at my place for now. He really misses you guys. I thought maybe . . . I don’t know. Maybe you’ve realized you made a mistake or something. Give me a call or stop by anytime.” I paused. “No one said parenting was easy. If it was, everyone would be good at it, but no one is. You just do the best you can. This isn’t the best you can do, Riley.”

  I hung up the phone and looked up to the second floor of the house. Riley stood at the window staring down at me. She didn’t move or gesture and neither did I. Instead, we stared at each other awkwardly until I left and decided I needed a drink.

  The Lizard was more packed than usual. I had to hand it to Michelle—she had a way with marketing. She seemed to instinctively know who her demographic was, and she went after them with a sniper rifle.

  This time I saw her before she saw me, and I hopped off my stool and sat at a table so she couldn’t hit me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and shook me like a doll, splashing my beer everywhere.

  “Wanna get high?” she asked. It wasn’t really a question, though, because her answer was always “hell yes.”

  “I’m good.”

  “You haven’t smoked pot since college. Why is that?”

  “Not my thing.”

  “Suit yourself. So what’s going on with you?”

  “Got someone staying at my house, and I’ll have to get back to him soon.”

  She sat down next to me and took out a silk pouch. The weed was fragrant, almost like perfume. She laid it on a small table and began taking out the stems. “Your kid?”

  “No, a client actually. Kind of a kid.”

  “Since when do you take clients home?”

  “Since never.” I took a sip of my beer. “Hey, I may need you to do a favor for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “CI I got on a case. They released his name to me under a protective order yesterday, so don’t share it with anyone else: Salvador Zamora. Drug distributor in Richardson. He’s the main witness against my client. I’ve tried calling him a bunch of times and he won’t talk.”

  “And you think I just happen to know all the drug dealers in Utah because of my shady character.” She licked a paper and began rolling the joint.

  “Don’t you?”

  She lit up and took a long puff. “Hell yes I do. What you need this guy for?”

  “The kid who’s staying at my house, Teddy Thorne. They’re saying he tried to sell coke to Zamora. Teddy’s mentally disabled, though. I think he’s the fall guy.”

  “The fall guy?” she said, chuckling and choking on the smoke at the same time. “You from an eighties detective sitcom or something?”

  “Look. He’s being blamed for something he didn’t do. Can you help or not?”

  “Take it easy, lady. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with that shit. My dad died of a heart attack at thirty-seven. Believe that? Think you’re a healthy young buck and then just keel over from the stress. Don’t let that be you.”

  “Thank you for the PSA, Surgeon General. Now can you find this distributor for me?”

  She nodded. “I got some hookups in Richardson. I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks.” I set my beer down. The urge to drink had left me.

  “Where you goin’?” Michelle asked as I rose.

  “Just tired. I’ll see ya.”

  24

  Preparation for Teddy’s preliminary hearing consisted of going over the police reports and witness statements and creating a general outline of the topics I wanted to cover. Some defense attorneys planned out every question, but I didn’t. Juries and judges sometimes picked up on cues that had nothing to do with what the witness was saying. Some witnesses just looked like they were liars, and others looked like they would rather die than tell a falsehood. Outward appearances, of course, had nothing to do with whether witnesses were actually telling the truth or not, but juries and judges liked to believe they could read people. And if I had my head down over my questions, I would completely miss what the jury or judge was taking in. So I stuck with an outline.

  At the preliminary hearing, the judge was just looking to see if there was probable cause to move to trial. In every other district in the state, the prelim was handled by a different judge to ensure fairness. In Hoover County, it was handled by the same judge, allegedly to save money, but really as a middle finger to fairness.

  The big question mark was Zamora. I had no idea what he was going to say. He could get up there and say Teddy sold him coke, the same way he had in the police reports, or he could get up there and say he had no idea who Teddy was and that Kevin had set everything up.

  As I sat at my desk and reread the file for the third time, Michelle called my cell phone.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Got a line for you on Zamora.�


  “You are the magic woman. What’d you find out?”

  “Coke distributor for the Kings. You know them?”

  “I’ve defended a couple of them. Nothing in depth.”

  “Mexican street gang. They’re the ones who shot that cop as retaliation for the cop shooting that Mexican kid.”

  “I remember that. Zamora runs with those guys?”

  “Apparently he’s one of the top dogs.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah. The guy I talked to said he’s been in and out of the can so many times all the guards at the prison got a pool on when he’ll be back. Long history.”

  A guy like that might say anything to keep out of prison, if for no other reason than because of how boring the experience had become.

  “Did you find out anything about a connection to Teddy?”

  “Nah. No one’s heard of your guy. Ask me, though, Zamora’s not the type of guy some high school punk could just approach with a bag of coke. You gotta have connections to get to him. Your dude got connections?”

  “Not one.”

  “Hm. Well, that’s all I got. You need anything else?”

  “No. That’s really helpful. I owe you.”

  “Remember that when I ask for something. And be careful, Dani. These are some bad dudes.”

  I set the phone down and leaned back in my seat. Zamora was a bigwig in a violent street gang, and somehow Teddy knew him well enough to sell him several kilos of coke? No way. It didn’t add up. But then again, Kevin didn’t seem like the type of kid who would know Zamora either. Assuming Roscombe set the case for trial after the hearing, I’d appeal, but while the appeal proceeded, I’d use the months between now and the trial date to try to find out how any of these kids knew Zamora.

  I was about to continue through the file when my phone buzzed with a call from the office line. I remembered why I had promised myself recently that I would turn my phone off while I prepped cases. It never happened, because no defense attorney could afford to miss a phone call from a potential client, but it was a nice thought.

  Even though I wanted to keep working on Teddy’s case, I couldn’t pass up money to pay the bills.

  I sighed and answered. “This is Dani.”

  25

  The day of the preliminary hearing, I got Will to watch Teddy while I prepped, and he agreed to drop him off before the hearing started. I could’ve brought him along to the office, but I’d have to leave him alone while I prepared, and I had no idea whether Teddy could be alone during the day. Whenever I texted his parents to get some advice, they never texted back. I had called Riley so many times that I had her phone number memorized.

  Kelly had researched every nonprofit in the state of Utah and found that there were few places that Teddy could fit into. There were shelters, and there were homes, and there were halfway houses, but nowhere that Teddy would be watched by someone qualified to supervise him. Every agency kept saying, “We’d love to help, but our funding got cut and . . .”

  The “and” didn’t matter. Not to Teddy. If I put him out on the street, he’d have nowhere to go, and I wasn’t sure he could figure out how to get food. There was a real possibility he could die, a possibility that I’m sure wasn’t lost on his parents when they decided to abandon him. The law—dating from 1901, when it was deemed that forcing parents to care for adult children would interfere with the harvest—protected Robert and Riley. Some of our laws were so outdated I thought it might be better to delete them all and start over.

  I showed up to the prelim early, and Double D sat at the prosecution table. He wore a ridiculous pin on his lapel: two revolvers crossed over an American flag. I nodded to him and he nodded back. I sat down at the defense table and checked the printed court calendar in front of me; Teddy was one of three cases. The public defender had the other two.

  A few people, mostly families, trickled into the courtroom. No one was there for Teddy. I checked the clock on my phone. He and Will should’ve arrived fifteen minutes ago.

  “All rise,” the bailiff said halfheartedly.

  Roscombe came out and sat down without looking at anyone. He booted up his computer and then leaned forward. “Who’s ready?”

  “I am, Judge,” said one of the public defenders. He was sitting in the jury box with an inmate, who didn’t seem to want to sign a plea form. The PD was telling him he didn’t have a choice. Finally, the inmate relented and signed it, his shackles clinking against the wood of the jury box. In Hoover County, public defenders were contracted, and the contracts went to the lowest bidder. It wasn’t the public defenders’ fault, really: the county had set up the system to ensure their public defenders were overworked and underpaid, making certain they wouldn’t actually fight cases, appeal constitutional issues, and generally call them on their bullshit. Dictators don’t like naysayers.

  The PD took to the lectern and did his thing. I kept checking the door for Will. Finally, I texted him and asked where he was. He said they were here but having trouble at the metal detectors.

  In the lobby, the two bailiffs stood in front of Teddy, who was leaning against the wall, covering his ears with his hands and rocking back and forth.

  “What happened?” I said.

  Will looked up from trying to comfort him. “The bailiffs told him he had to take off his shoes because they kept making the metal detectors go off. He wouldn’t do it, and they tried to grab him.”

  I turned to the bailiffs. “Is that really necessary? Can’t you just wand his shoes?”

  “I told him to take them off.”

  “He doesn’t want to take his shoes off. Is it really that big a deal?”

  “He don’t take his shoes off, he ain’t comin’ in.”

  Gomer Pyle had made up his mind, and there was no changing it. I turned to Teddy and stood in front of him so he could see my eyes, and I smiled. Slowly, he removed his hands from his ears.

  “You all right, buddy?”

  “He said . . . he said to take my shoes off Danielle but I don’t want to take my shoes off. I don’t want to take my shoes off.”

  “I know. But you know what? This linoleum right here feels better without your shoes on. Check this out.”

  I slipped off my shoes, ran a few paces, and then slid on my stockings for maybe two feet on the smooth linoleum.

  “See?”

  He watched as I slid on the floor again and slowly he began to smile. He took off his shoes, flinging them to the side, and tried to run to me. I said, “Go through there,” and pointed to the metal detectors. He went through without beeping and slid on the linoleum. I raced him around the stairs as he squealed like a kid. We slid into a bench, and he toppled over and thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Will held our shoes and watched us with a grin.

  I picked Teddy up from the floor and said, “We gotta go upstairs for just a minute, but do you want to come back down after and slide again?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Okay. Get your shoes back on, and let’s hurry and do this so we can slide some more.”

  We put on our shoes and headed to the elevators. The sliding had lifted his spirits so much he was skipping to the elevators. We got on, the three of us, and headed up to the courtroom.

  Teddy sat down at the defense table. The PD finished pleading both of his clients and Roscombe sighed when he saw me. “No chance this is resolving today, Ms. Rollins?”

  “No chance.”

  “Very well. We are here on the matter of State of Utah versus Theodore Thorne, case number 1645984925. Is the State ready to proceed?”

  Double D stood up and said, “We are, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, first witness.”

  “State calls Kevin Simmons to the stand.”

  A bailiff stepped outside and, a moment later, came in with Kevin. Teddy clapped and said, “Hi, Kevin!” and I had to grab his hands to get him to stop.

  Kevin took the stand and wouldn’t look in our direction. I noticed someon
e else in the courtroom, too—a man in a pinstriped gray suit with hair the same color as the suit. He stood in the back of the courtroom with his arms folded and watched me. He had to be Kevin’s lawyer.

  Double D stood up and strolled to the lectern like he didn’t have any other place to be in the world. He had one page of questions in front of him, and he was quiet a long time, reading each question beforehand to himself. Finally he said, “State and spell your name for the record, please.”

  “Kevin Simmons. Um, K-E-V-I-N and then S-I-M-M-O-N-S.”

  “Mr. Simmons, do you recall the events of April second of this year?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please run us through what you remember.”

  Kevin glanced once at Teddy and looked down. He cleared his throat. “We were hanging out at my house in Salt Lake. Just like, I don’t know, goofing around, playing video games and stuff.”

  “When you say we, who do you mean?”

  “My buddies Clint Andrews and Freddy Willmore. We were I think playing a game when Teddy came by. He said that—”

  “Let me stop you there. Who is Teddy?”

  “Teddy Thorne.”

  “Is he in the courtroom today?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you identify him, please?”

  Kevin hesitated and then lifted his arm and pointed to Teddy. “That’s him at the table. With the gray shirt.”

  “How do you know Teddy?”

  “He’s my neighbor. He’s lived next door, like, forever.”

  “So you and your friends are hanging out and Teddy comes over. What happens then?”

  “He seemed, like, really agitated. Something was bothering him. I could always tell because he paces. Just, like, paces back and forth. So I asked him what was up, and he said that he had a bag that he needed to take somewhere and could we take him.”

  “Did you see a bag with him?”

  “No, he went and got it later. He said the place was in Richardson, and we were going up to Roy City to meet some other buddies so we said we’d take him. I just thought . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what he was doing.”

 

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