A Gambler's Jury

by Victor Methos

  “So you agreed to take him?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t far from where we were going, so we said we would. Then he ran over to his house and came back out with a bag.”

  Double D went to the prosecution table and reached underneath. He came out with a dark-blue duffle bag, and then returned to the lectern. “Is this the bag?”

  “That looks like it, yeah.”

  “Your Honor, we’d move to introduce exhibit one into evidence.”

  “Any objection?”

  I rose. “None.”

  Diamond said, “May I approach?”

  “Yes.”

  He handed the bag to the judge’s clerk and then went back to the prosecution table and reached underneath again. He came up with several bricks of what looked like cocaine. He stacked them neatly on the table, taking his time to let it sink in how much coke was in the bag.

  “So what happened when you drove him down, Mr. Simmons?”

  “We got in my car and I drove. Teddy sat in the passenger seat. It takes like half an hour to get to Richardson, so we listened to music and talked.”

  “Did Teddy say anything?”

  “Not really. Just that he had to deliver this bag.”

  “So what happened then?”

  Kevin took a deep breath. “We drove down and got off on the Twenty-Fifth Street exit. That’s when he finally told me what was in the bag.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that he had cocaine in the bag.”

  “Those were his exact words?”

  Kevin nodded. “He said he had cocaine and that he had to drop it off. I tried to talk him out of it. I told him that it was illegal, but he kept insisting that we do it. He has this tic, I guess, where he just keeps repeating something over and over. He started doing that and wouldn’t stop until I told him that we would drop it off.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I mean, I didn’t believe he had coke,” Kevin said, glancing at the judge. “I just thought he was kidding. But I thought he did have something to drop off. So he leads us to this house in Richardson. He sits there for a second and then says that he’s too scared to go by himself, so I get out of the car and go with him. I mean, I haven’t seen the coke, so I thought that maybe he was making it up. I don’t know. So I go up on the porch with him and some Mexican dude answers. Teddy says, ‘Hi,’ and the Mexican dude takes the bag. Then it was just a blur after that, just cop cars and people throwing me on the ground, arresting me. It was unreal. I’ve never been in trouble before so, I mean, it was crazy.”

  “Did anyone, to your knowledge, put Teddy Thorne up to this?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t heard anything else. As far as I know, Teddy was just down there to drop the bag off.”

  “Now, you’ve known Teddy a long time, you said.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s slow, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he’s retarded. I mean, not to the point that he can’t do anything, but yeah.”

  “So how do you expect this court to believe that a slow man set up and executed a deal for this much cocaine?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I saw.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Simmons. No further questions.”

  I sat quietly a moment and eyed Kevin, a pen to my lips. I put the pen down and rose. I passed the lectern and stood in front of the witness, something I knew Roscombe hated. I put my hands in my pockets and paced a little bit.

  “Teddy led you to this house?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “You know he’s never been to Richardson,” I said, just taking a wild guess and seeing what Kevin would say.

  “I didn’t know that. Seemed like he knew the place, to me.”

  “How did he lead you there?”

  “Just told us where to go.”

  I stopped directly in front of him. “Like was he telling you to turn right and left, or did he give you an address?”

  “Right and left. He was directing us where to go. I don’t think he’s good with addresses.”

  “How many times did he tell you to turn?”

  “What?”

  “How many times did he give you directions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ten? Twenty? Thirty . . . ?”

  “Twenty, maybe. He just kept saying turn here or go up this road.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “Yes, Mr. Simmons. What was my client wearing on this night?”

  Kevin swallowed. “I don’t remember.”

  “You spent the entire night with him, did a drug deal with him, and then got arrested with him, and don’t remember what he was wearing?”

  He hesitated. “Jeans. Jeans and, like, a T-shirt.”

  “What kind of a T-shirt?”

  “I think it was blue.”

  I took a step closer to him. “What kind of shoes did he have?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was he wearing a watch?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What music did you listen to on the way to Richardson?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “What topics did the four of you talk about?”

  “I don’t know. Just stuff.”

  “Just stuff? Seems like you would remember every detail about that night, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember much, do you? I mean, other than the fact that my client was responsible for everything?”

  “He was.”

  “Where’d he say he got the coke?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “No.”

  I glanced at Roscombe, who wasn’t even paying attention. Preliminary hearings were perfunctory: defense attorneys rarely won, and judges seldom paid much attention. They would just rubber-stamp the case for the prosecution. It didn’t matter, as I didn’t really expect to win here. I was using it more to get the witnesses down into a story, and then I would get the recordings and the transcript from this hearing, and if they said anything different at trial I would shove it down their throats.

  “Your handicapped friend has a bag full of cocaine, and you expect us to believe you never asked him where he got it from?”

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  “You didn’t think of it? But you thought to talk him out of doing it?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  I paced a few times and then turned to him again. “How’d you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “How’d you try to talk him out of it?”

  “I said it was illegal and that we shouldn’t do it. That we’d get in trouble.”

  “And you thought he’d understand that?”

  “Yeah, he understands a lot.”

  “You just called him retarded, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but there’s different levels of retarded.”

  I folded my arms. “Really? Do you have some psychology degree I don’t know about, Mr. Simmons?”

  “No.”

  “So you couldn’t really say what level of ‘retarded’ Teddy is?”

  “I guess not.”

  I went closer to him, close enough to put my hand on the banister in front of him and look into his eyes. I wanted to see how he would act under pressure. “That gym bag’s kinda big, isn’t it? Something you’d use in sports.”

  “I guess.”

  “Teddy play any sports?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What sports do you play?”

  “Baseball and wrestling.”

  I folded my arms. “You did the coke deal, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You took Teddy along to catch the blame in case you got busted.”

  “No, that’s not what happened.”

  “It’s easy to blame someone who’s
‘retarded.’ He can’t fight back. Not really.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Sure you would. It’s easier than manning up and doing your time. Blame the retard, and this all goes away. How long did you act like his friend for?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Was it hard to look at him every day? See him smiling at you, thinking you’re his friend when you knew you were gonna screw him worse than anyone’s screwed him in his life?”

  “No!” he shouted. “It wasn’t like that. He was my friend. He is my friend. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

  His face was red and his hands trembled. He looked at Teddy, who sat there passively a moment and then said, “Hi Kevin!”

  Roscombe immediately jumped in and said, “Mr. Thorne, do not address the witnesses in my courtroom.”

  I stepped a few paces back so Roscombe would have to look at me instead of Teddy and said, “No further questions.”

  I sat down and stared at Kevin.

  Damn it to douchebag hell.

  I think I believed the little shit.

  26

  One of the detectives testified next, repeating what Kevin said, and then Double D rested. Star witnesses, particularly CIs, were never called at prelim, but Zamora’s written statement was submitted as evidence. The judge didn’t even call for argument. He just said, “I find there’s enough to bind this case over for trial.”

  “Judge,” I said, on my feet, “if I may? No procedure was followed in the bringing of this case. This is a matter that should’ve been filed in juvenile court and is not listed under the Serious Youth Offender Act as a predicate offense to charge a juvenile as an adult. And even if it were, the juvenile court judge is the one who makes the determination as to whether the juvenile should be tried as an adult. Here, the prosecution has ignored several statutes upheld by the supreme court and filed directly in the district court in contravention to the law. I would demand this case not be bound over, due to lack of jurisdiction. Frankly, it’s an offense to the citizenry of this state that the case has even gotten this far.”

  Double D stood up and said, “Your Honor, you yourself signed the certification to make this an adult case. If Ms. Rollins has a problem with your ruling, the proper remedy is an appeal to the court of appeals, and they can decide whether the court’s actions are proper.”

  “Holy shit,” I said, staring at him with my mouth open. “Did you two plan this or something?” It was quick, but Double D looked away from me, avoiding eye contact.

  “Ms. Rollins!” Roscombe bellowed. “You will respect this courtroom and refrain from profanity, or I will lock you up so fast it will make your head spin.”

  “Your Honor, did the State come to you before this case was filed and ask if you would do this, or did you certify this on your own?”

  Roscombe glanced at Double D, and Double D looked down at the floor and back up. It was minor. It was quick, but it happened. It wasn’t a coincidence Roscombe had been assigned to this case; they had planned this out beforehand. I thought Roscombe certified this case because he wanted to get rid of the SYOA, but this had been a collusion between him and the prosecutors. They had influenced a judge to do what they wanted. There were so many judicial and ethical rules being broken right now I couldn’t even think straight.

  “Your Honor, I move for an immediate recusal of yourself from this case.”

  “Such request must be made in writing, Ms. Rollins.”

  I grabbed the pen off the defense table and wrote on a yellow legal pad my name, phone number, and Bar number, and then, Excuse yourself, Judge across the top, and on the side, Motion for Recusal. I gave it to the bailiff who walked it over to the judge.

  Roscombe said, “Cute,” before taking the page and tossing it in the trash. “But it doesn’t follow proper form.”

  “I can’t even begin to name all the laws you two are breaking right now, and you’re telling me about proper form?”

  “I would watch your tone in my court, Counselor.” Roscombe turned to his clerk and said, “Kill the recording.” When she had, he continued: “The State is going forward on a legitimate issue. They believe the statute to be incorrect and so do I. If you lose, appeal it, and we’ll see what they say.”

  “And in the meantime an innocent boy’s life is ruined.” I shook my head. “I always knew you were an asshole, but I had no idea the supernova of assholedom you had stored away in that head of yours.”

  Roscombe looked like he might soil himself. His face turned red and he barked at his bailiff, “Arrest her.”

  I sat in the back cell next to the judge’s chamber for a good hour. A headache throbbed away as I waited on a cot that felt like a burlap sack.

  I had thought that Hoover County had gotten lucky. Roscombe, I knew, hated the SYOA and was waiting for a case like this, and I’d thought it was just bad luck that he’d gotten it, but it wasn’t luck. Instead, this had been a conspiracy. He and the DA sat down and tried to figure out how to get around a law they didn’t like, a law that protected the most vulnerable in our society—children—from abuses of government power.

  The monstrosity of this whole thing weighed on me like a roof slowly collapsing onto my shoulders, pushing me into the floor. It took effort to sit upright, so I lay down on the single cot in the cell and stared at the ceiling.

  The door opened and the bailiff said, “The judge wants to see you.”

  I followed him out. Roscombe was still behind the bench but had taken his robe off. He looked at me. “I don’t feel like having a bailiff babysit you overnight. You’re free to go.”

  “Just for the record, you’re supposed to have a hearing before finding me in contempt, Judge. I know you don’t like to read the laws of this state, so I thought I’d tell you.”

  He leaned forward on his bench with both hands and inhaled deeply. “I would be very careful what you say and do right now, Ms. Rollins.”

  I shook my head. “You took an oath to uphold the law.”

  “Just laws.”

  “There’s no mention of just laws. Only laws, all laws. Not only the laws you happen to agree with.”

  He raised his eyebrows and said, “Well, you have some options available to you. Do with them what you want.”

  I left the courthouse. The bailiff gave my phone back to me on the way out. Will had texted that he took Teddy around the corner to a café. There was only one café near the courthouse, and it was a trendy place with pictures of tribesmen on the walls, as though the café bought its bread directly from the jungles of Brazil instead of the Whole Foods down the street.

  Will and Teddy sat at a table. Teddy had a ring of food around his mouth and was guzzling some red drink out of a plastic cup, further painting his face. I sat down across from Will and groaned.

  “Just out of the big house, no big deal. Itching for some lovin’ from a man, though. I haven’t even seen a man in ages. Just lifting weights and sharpening toothbrushes for me.”

  He grinned. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of gigolos who’d be impressed by that line.”

  “You think? I’ll have to use it next time I’m picking up guys at the high school.” He had the remnants of a personal pizza in front of him that had gone cold. I grabbed one of the slices and took a bite. It was rubbery and, Heaven forbid, I think vegan.

  “Thanks for doing this,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve got more interesting things to do.”

  “More interesting than watching you get arrested? I don’t know.”

  “That judge is such an asshole.”

  “What made you lose it like that?”

  “They planned this whole thing. I thought it was the county attorney’s office being aggressive because they saw an opportunity to change a law that put a little limit on their power, but that’s not what it was. They sat down with the judge beforehand and planned this. They colluded to get around laws written by the legislature. It
’s a total abuse of power.”

  He smiled.

  “What?”

  “It’s just good to see you so passionate.”

  “Well, I can do without it. I don’t think I’m qualified for this mess.”

  Gently, he took my hand and squeezed it before pulling away. “You’ll do fine.”

  I looked at him for a long time. He was, in a lot of ways, a woman’s dream. Wealthy from his own business, handsome, charming, nice, funny . . . I wondered what it was about me that didn’t chase after him. Maybe because I grew bored of men so quickly and didn’t want to get bored of him.

  He rose and said, “I have to run.”

  I watched him leave and then turned to Teddy, who was shoving a giant slice of pizza into his mouth backward. I turned it around for him, and he giggled as he pushed half of it in.

  “Buddy, I gotta ask you something and I need you to answer me, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, through a ball of wet pizza.

  “Where did you get that bag that we talked about? The night that you got to ride in the police car, do you remember? Where did you get that bag?”

  His face went serious, and he wouldn’t look at me. “I don’t know, Danielle.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s okay, you can tell me.”

  “Danielle, I don’t know. I don’t know, Danielle.”

  I sighed. “You lie about as well as I do, buddy.”

  I rubbed my head and looked out over the restaurant.

  My next move would be filing a motion to quash the binding over, which basically meant I disagreed with the judge’s ruling. The motion would go, again, to the same judge, because this was Hoover County, and he would decide whether or not he had made a mistake. Which had about as much chance of happening as a PhD being awarded to someone with the last name of Kardashian. But once I appealed the motion to quash, it would go to the Utah Court of Appeals and the hell away from Hoover County.

  “You ready to go?” I asked.

  Teddy guzzled the remains of his red drink and rose. I had to get a handful of napkins and wipe his face. As we headed out to the car, I texted Kelly. Anything?

  No. Sorry. Nothing permanent anyway. Working on something.

  I put my phone away. “Looks like you’re staying another night with me, buddy.”

  “Can we get ice cream?”