A Gambler's Jury

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A Gambler's Jury Page 16

by Victor Methos


  I popped in the audio CD of the dispatch logs and skipped ahead until I found the right part.

  “This is unit 262, I’m about five minutes away.”

  Bo Steed came on and said, “Negative, Stu. We got it covered.”

  “You sure?”

  “We’re good. We got enough uniforms to cover.”

  “Roger that. Good luck.”

  Unit 262. I texted Will. Get me the name and badge numbers of the police officers in unit 262 for Hoover County.

  He texted back a second later. Give me an hour.

  33

  When Will got back to me, he had not only the badge number and full name of the cop—Stuart Lively—but also his address and disciplinary record, as well as his schedule. I would miss Will like hell when he left. How would I find someone else that efficient? Then again, I didn’t think I was going to practice law in Los Angeles. Maybe I’d work in a coffee shop or paint or something.

  I got into my car and headed to Richardson.

  Stuart Lively wasn’t on duty right now. He worked primarily night shifts, and I guessed that he was at home sleeping. I went to his house, the south unit of a duplex, and parked out front. A police car was in the driveway and I peeked inside as I walked past. Immaculately clean. No fast-food wrappers or empty cans of Red Bull.

  A lot of cops didn’t like defense attorneys, and one showing up unannounced at their house could really spook them. After I knocked, I took a few steps back to give him space and seem nonthreatening. I put my hands in my pockets, then thought that looked like I was concealing something, so I took them out and put them at my sides. I thought I looked like a creepo stalker, so I put them on my hips. I thought this was too aggressive, so I put them back in my pockets.

  A black man in a tight shirt with a crucifix around his neck answered the door. He looked at me with a modicum of surprise. He was chewing, and I guessed I had interrupted his meal before he headed out on patrol.

  “Officer Lively?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Dani Rollins. I’m an attorney on a case that you were tangentially involved in. I was hoping I could have thirty seconds of your time.”

  “Tangentially?”

  He spoke with a smooth, deep voice, and I didn’t get any hint of aggression from him.

  “It’s Teddy Thorne. He’s the disabled kid who was charged with distribution. I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, but—”

  “I’ve heard about it.” He looked me up and down. “What do you want to know?”

  This was good. He didn’t swear at me, pull out his gun, or crack a joke about hunting defense attorneys. “Just had some quick questions is all.”

  He hesitated. “Better come in, then.”

  The home smelled like warm cinnamon. Seated at the dinner table were a woman and a small child. I waved to them, and only the child waved back. Stuart took me to his home office, away from the dining room. He sat in the chair behind the desk, and I took a spot on a couch against the wall.

  “I don’t know nothing about that case. I wasn’t involved in it,” he said.

  “I know. But you were, like, five minutes away and were heading down to assist. Is that pretty common for officers on patrol?”

  He shrugged. “It depends. We were busy that night, and they only had six guys there and five perps. I thought they could use a hand.”

  “Did you help them?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  He thought for a second and I could tell he was weighing how to answer. “No. No I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “They didn’t need me.”

  I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “Officer, I know all about the brotherhood of cops. You guys look out for each other. I get that, and I’m not looking for you to betray anybody. But we both know they purposely didn’t want you to show up. After Detective Steed told you not to come, they let two other officers come. Why those two but not you?”

  He folded his arms and didn’t respond. We held each other’s gaze a second and he looked away first.

  “Do you know anything that can help?”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything. I wasn’t there.”

  “Why didn’t they want you there?”

  He exhaled through his nose. “I got a kid. And I’m scared for him. Scared for the world he has to grow up in.”

  “Crime’s never been this low. Statistically, this is the safest period in history to be alive.”

  “I’m not talking about criminals.”

  We held each other’s gaze again. “Cops. You’re talking about cops.”

  He ran his hand over his head. “Read this story on the news. Twelve-year-old kid got shot by the cops because he was holding a stick and wouldn’t drop it. Shot him seven times. Black kid, white police officers. I look at my son and I don’t know how to explain to him that that’s a hard fact of life.” He looked down at the floor. “I don’t know how to explain to him both how to protect himself and why I wear the uniform.”

  “They didn’t want you there because you’re black? Why did that matter?”

  He didn’t answer me.

  “Oh,” I said, a giant lightbulb going off in my head. “They chose Teddy out of everyone there because he’s black. But they didn’t count on his disability, did they?”

  Why hadn’t I seen that before? Hoover County was hard-core hillbilly country. A black kid was far more likely to be convicted by a jury there, whether he did it or not. They had chosen Teddy because of the color of his skin.

  I knew a lot about how blacks were treated in our system. Once, in a moment of drunken honesty, I’d even had a police chief of one of the largest cities tell me, “If you follow a black guy until he commits a traffic violation and pull him over, you’re gonna find something. Pot, or a gun, or something. Not every time, but nine times out of ten. That’s how we keep our numbers up.”

  “He’s just a kid,” I said. “Not that much older than your boy out there. But your boy can at least explain himself. Teddy can’t. He doesn’t have the capacity. And he’s gonna go away for life unless you can help me.”

  Stuart looked at me and shook his head. He rose from the desk and got two bottles of water out of a small fridge and handed one to me before sitting back down. He opened his and took a long drink before speaking.

  “If I tell you, it don’t leave this room. I got four years until my pension vests, and I’m not looking to get fired now.”

  “It won’t leave this room. You have my word.”

  “The word of a defense attorney don’t mean much to me. You’re gonna have to do better.”

  “How?”

  “I want you to call my cell phone and leave a voice mail. Say it’s a shame I wouldn’t meet with you, and that you might subpoena me anyway even though I refused to talk to you. That way if you say anything, I have that and can deny it.”

  I took out my phone and did as he asked. When I was through, he said, “I just heard rumors. They don’t tell me anything.”

  “I’ll take rumors at this point.”

  “They’ve been looking to change that law for a long time. Looking for the perfect case to do it with. So when they found a black kid with three white kids willing to testify against him, they jumped on it. Black kid with three white accusers don’t stand a chance with a jury here.”

  “A gambler’s jury.”

  “What?”

  “A gambler’s jury. A little nickname for these by defense attorneys—a jury with a case where any rational person would acquit, but they might convict because of race. You’re gambling by taking the case to them.”

  He nodded.

  “Why are they trying so hard to change the law? What do they care if they can prosecute juveniles for drug crimes or not?”

  He shook his head. “That I don’t know. I just heard that they found a case they wanted to use and told Steed to make sure the witnesses cooperated.”

  “Did they set Teddy up?”

  “I don�
�t think they went that far. I think it just fell in their laps.”

  I leaned back and spun the water bottle in my hand, staring off into space. Why would they care so much about being able to prosecute juveniles with no oversight? It didn’t make sense.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me that would help?”

  “Don’t think so. That’s all I know.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  I rose and set the unopened bottle on his desk. Before I left, he said, “Counselor, we’re not all like Steed.”

  “I know. But the reason people like Steed are able to pull this shit is because people like you don’t stand up to him.” I opened the office door. “Thanks for your help. I’ll keep it between us.”

  34

  Teddy had been placed in a program called “extended day,” and as I headed to his school to pick him up, I thought about Bo Steed. He’d chosen Teddy because he was black, and they knew they could get a conviction. But the conviction wouldn’t matter because we wouldn’t get that far. I’d filed a motion to quash after the preliminary hearing, and as soon as Roscombe denied that, which of course he would, I would file an interlocutory appeal. The appeals court would hear this case long before a jury. There was no way they’d let Hoover County get away with this. Sandy was smart enough to know this as well as I did. So why bet on a gambler’s jury?

  I went into Teddy’s classroom, where the teacher was sitting at her desk.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Oh, hi. Teddy’s in extended day down the hall.”

  “How’d he do today?”

  “Excellent.” Rosalyn flipped through some papers. “Look at this.”

  I took the paper she held out. It was an intricate pencil drawing of a young boy with a straw hat on a raft with a guy lying on his back. The guy’s skin was colored in.

  “Huck Finn and Jim,” I said.

  “Wonderful, isn’t it? Did you know he had talent like that?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “You can hang on to that. He was quite proud of it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I headed out of the classroom and found Teddy. He sat in the center of the floor with five other teenagers, and they were playing some game where they tossed a hacky sack around and then laughed hysterically when someone dropped it. A teacher in the corner asked, “Who are you here for?”

  “Dani!” Teddy squealed before I could respond. “Did you see my drawing?”

  “I did, buddy. It’s amazing.”

  “It’s Huck Finn, Dani. He’s on the river.”

  “I got that. Since when can you draw like that?”

  He smiled shyly. “I don’t know.”

  I thanked the teacher and we headed out. I was helping him buckle his seat belt when my phone buzzed. It was Stefan.

  “What’d he do now?” I said as a greeting.

  “Who?”

  “Jack. That’s why you called, isn’t it?”

  “No. I called to check up on you.”

  I grinned. “Reallllyyy?”

  “This was a mistake. I knew you’d read too much into it. I’m hanging up.”

  “No, no, don’t hang up. I’m just surprised is all.”

  “I just . . .”

  I sensed something in his voice. A slight pullback, maybe. Like he wanted to tell me something but didn’t know how to say it.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Like I don’t know you. Something’s clearly wrong, so what is it?”

  “I don’t know . . . It’s just . . . I don’t know.”

  Please, for the love of all that’s holy, let it be second thoughts about the wedding.

  “Any subject in particular bugging you?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, his voice just a little too high to be casual.

  “I think I’ve got beer and condiments at my house. Me and one of my clients were just about to grab some dinner out. Come with us.”

  “One of your clients?”

  “Long story. Teenage kid, disabled, with nowhere else to go so I’ve been letting him crash with me. So you coming or what?”

  I expected an excuse or a lecture about how we’re not that way anymore. Instead, he just said, “Okay.”

  I picked a sushi place in Cottonwood Heights, about fifteen minutes outside of Salt Lake City. I knew sushi was Stefan’s favorite, and I wanted him away from Peyton the Bambi Killer’s neighborhood. Teddy and I grabbed a table, and he immediately pulled out the chopsticks. He saw how some people at a table nearby were using them and tried to imitate them. The chopsticks kept falling out of his hands because he kept rubbing his fingers together.

  “I like Chinese food, see,” he said. “My mom used to get Chinese food for my birthday because I like Chinese food.”

  “Yeah? What’s your favorite Chinese food?”

  “I like sweet and sour chicken, see. With the red sauce. Like Jell-O.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is kind of like Jell-O. We’ll see if they have some now.”

  Stefan came in through the doors and headed for our table. Teddy started clapping, which made Stefan smile. He sat down and said, “How are you?”

  “Can you do magic? Please please please!”

  I grinned. “That’s Will that knows magic, buddy. This is my friend Stefan.”

  “Okay, yeah. New magic trick from Will. That’s a good trick. A new one.”

  Stefan looked at me. “What?” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re giving me this dopey teenage girl look.”

  “I am a dopey teenage girl.”

  He chuckled. “Do you remember that time Jack hit his head at the bookstore? When he was so excited he found a Captain America book that he tripped and cut his head open on that shelf?”

  “Yeah, I thought I might faint when I saw the blood.”

  “It was actually amazing. You scooped him up without hesitation and ran out of the bookstore and we sped up to the hospital. You didn’t say anything, you just had this look on your face like nothing in the world was going to stop you. I thought that woman could conquer the world. I miss that woman sometimes. But that was another life, Dani.”

  I nodded. “I know. I miss that woman and that life, too.”

  He leaned back and said, “I could really use a beer.”

  “Your wish is my command,” I said, signaling to the waitress.

  We ate and laughed and drank beer. Stefan wanted to see Teddy draw after I told him he was a virtuoso, so we got a pen from the waitress and he drew a swirling Chinese dragon on one of the paper menus. It was one of the best I’d ever seen. Each line came out of the pen as expertly as though it had just been waiting inside, and Teddy was only letting it fall out. The tic of rubbing his fingers together disappeared and his eyes managed to focus on the drawing. No darting around the room, no exaggerated lifting of his eyelids or excessive blinking. He was completely focused.

  “Here Stefan, you can have it. It’s for you.”

  Stefan picked up the drawing and stared at it. I thought his eyes got a little moist when he said, “I love it. Thank you.”

  Teddy hummed to himself as he dug into his food. I sipped the beer I’d ordered and watched Stefan. I hadn’t seen him eat since . . . a long time. The last actual meal we’d had together was breakfast as a family. He had been quiet the entire time, distant. Jack and I had joked and talked about what we were going to do that day, but Stefan just ate in silence. When breakfast ended and Jack went off to school, he pulled out the divorce papers and laid them on the breakfast table.

  “So what’s going on? Really?” I said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. A gal you divorced over breakfast was number one on your speed dial when you’re feeling blue.”

  “What makes you think I’m feeling blue?”

  “I could always tell when you’re depressed. You never hid it well.”

  He shrugg
ed. “Maybe if you’d applied that laser observation to yourself, you could’ve realized what was wrong before letting another man . . .”

  “Easy, the boy has sensitive ears.”

  He sighed and dropped his fork onto the plate, burying his face in his hands.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Peyton and I got into a fight.”

  “A fight with the Deer Terminator? No way.”

  He gave me a hard look.

  “Sorry,” I quickly added. “What happened?”

  “So, you know how my dissertation’s almost done?”

  “It is? I thought you had like a year of classes left.”

  “It’s been a year, Dani. Two semesters.”

  “Oh. Okay, yeah, what about it?”

  “Well, Peyton’s paying for everything right now because I’m just working on this and I want to hurry and finish to get back into the workforce and start standing on my own feet again. But she doesn’t want me to finish.”

  “Why not?”

  “She says there’s no point having me devote myself fully over the next several months, or even a year, to a dissertation. Her family gives all the kids half a mil when they marry and pays off their debts as their wedding gifts. That, and she makes crazy money managing a division of a hospital . . . I don’t know. She thinks I should just focus on Jack.”

  I laughed. “She wants you to be a housewife?” When Stefan only gave me a rigid look in return, I stopped laughing and cleared my throat. “Sorry.” I sipped my beer. “Did you ask her why?”

  “She said she doesn’t think it’s proper for both people in a marriage to be working outside the home.”

  “Doesn’t think it’s proper?”

  “She just says that someone needs to focus on raising children.”

  “Children? Plural?”

  He nodded. “She wants to have kids as soon as possible.”

  I drank down the rest of my beer, trying not to imagine Stefan in a hospital catching some baby who would be born wearing camo with an NRA sticker on its butt.

 

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