A Gambler's Jury

by Victor Methos

  “Oh,” I managed to say.

  “It just feels weird, you know? Like . . . I don’t know. Marriage is one thing, you can divorce online in a couple of hours, but kids . . . Two people have kids together, and they’re bound for life. You can’t get out of that. Ever.”

  “So, you’re not gonna have kids with her, then?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. She has just . . . a really old-fashioned view of things. It’s actually charming in a lot of ways, but really idiotic in others.”

  “Let’s cut out the parts where you compliment Peyton, can we? You’re killing my libido.”

  “Danielle . . .”

  “What? It’s true. You know I can’t control myself around you.”

  “Take a cold shower or something.”

  I leaned forward. “If you have doubts, you go with your gut.”

  “My gut’s telling me my brain doesn’t know what’s good for it.”

  “Have you talked to anyone in your family about it? Your sister always gave good advice. You talked to her?”

  “Yeah, I did. She says not to marry her, and that I should’ve worked it out with you.”

  I had to suppress a smile. I had always liked his sister. “So she wants one way and you want another. Seems like something newlywed couples fight about until they get used to each other.”

  “I love my work. Being a history professor is everything to me. I want to get back to it. But if she thinks staying home is best, maybe I should listen.”

  “You don’t have to listen to her.”

  I watched as he played with his food, making a design of some kind and then taking a little nibble before he pushed it away.

  “You remind me so much of Jack right now,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Something in the way you move. I dig it all, handsome. The whole package.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, Dani, but unnecessary. I’m going to be fine.”

  “You sure? No mention of calling off the wedding in this little spat?”

  “No. Despite all her bullshit, she would never say that. She’s crazy in love with me.”

  I sipped my beer. I knew the feeling.

  I walked Stefan to his car, and Teddy followed behind, playing a game on my phone.

  “Thanks for this,” he said. “I needed it.”

  “I’m always here. Well . . . actually there was something I should tell you: I’m moving back to LA.”

  “When did you make that decision?”

  “Little bit ago.” I put a cigarette in my mouth and this time lit it. “If I can’t be with you, so be it. That’s my fault. But I can’t live in the same city with you and your wife. I gotta go and start over.”

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

  “Like I told Will, what the hell do I know about what’s best?”

  “And what are we gonna do with Jack?”

  “I’m not going through a custody fight. I think we should ask him who he wants to stay with.”

  “Ask him? No, Danielle, we don’t need to ask him. Clearly he needs to stay here.”

  “Clearly? Why clearly? I may suck at a lot of things but I try with everything I’ve got to be a good mom.”

  “That’s not it. I don’t want a son raised in Los Angeles. Have you seen what LA does to its men? It hates its men. It teaches them to treat women like . . . things. Teaches them that their only worth is their looks or their bank accounts. I don’t want him there.”

  “I don’t know if I buy that. Kids are package deals. I think maybe they come with the wiring already in place.”

  “You weren’t a guy growing up in LA. I was. If you weren’t the best looking, or the one getting laid the youngest, or the richest, or the one doing the most drugs, you were nothing. I was considered uncool in elementary school because I hadn’t had sex yet. We’re talking twelve years old. I would sit by myself in the hallway and eat lunch so I wouldn’t have to hear what the other guys were saying about me. Maybe it’s like that everywhere now; I don’t know. But I just can’t let him do it.” He shook his head. “No, he is not being raised in that. He’s at a good school; he has good friends; he lives in a good neighborhood. I’m sorry, Danielle, but if you move, you’re moving alone.”

  This wasn’t a fight I wanted to have right now, so I decided to wait until the shock had worn off and he’d had some time to think about it. “Well, I guess we can talk about it more later. Um, look, take care of yourself, all right?”

  He drove off. I waved and he waved back. I watched the taillights disappear in the darkness.

  “Hey, Danielle?” Teddy said.

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “I think he likes you.”

  I grinned. “Let’s go home. SpongeBob awaits.”

  35

  That night, after putting Teddy to bed, I lay on the couch and flipped through television channels. It didn’t matter what was on as I wasn’t really watching, so I stopped on a sitcom. I muted the volume and stared at the screen. A couple kissed. I wondered if the actors ever felt it was real, or if they felt like frauds displaying care for a person they didn’t really give a shit about.

  I heard someone fumbling with the back door in the kitchen. I listened for it again, and I heard the chain on the door sliding off. I rose slowly. I didn’t have a gun, but I did have a baseball bat in my hallway closet. I grabbed it. Peeking around the corner, I saw a figure at the door, fumbling with the lock.

  My heart raced. I thought about running out the front door, but there might be someone there, too. My cell phone was in my bedroom. Maybe I could ease back in there and call the police. I wished I had a gun and decided right then I would be buying one the first chance I got.

  Then it hit me that the figure was trying to get out, not lock the door behind him.

  It was Teddy. I lowered the bat and leaned it against the wall.

  “What are you doing, Teddy?”

  He didn’t respond. He undid the lock and tried to open the door, but he hadn’t unlocked the lower lock on the door handle. I approached him and he shouted, “Don’t touch me!”

  I held up my hands and took a few steps back. “Easy, buddy. What’s going on?”

  He turned back to the locks and couldn’t figure out why the door wasn’t opening. “I’m going home.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I’m going home, Danielle.”

  I sat down at the table and watched him. The lower lock had a trick to it: you had to push and twist at the same time since it had rusted. Teddy was getting more frustrated and mumbling to himself.

  “Teddy, you can’t go home. I’m sorry.”

  “I want to go home, Danielle!”

  I rose slowly and approached him. He stopped fumbling with the door and turned to me, his eyes on the floor, his fingers furiously rubbing together.

  “Take it easy, buddy.”

  “I am not . . . I am not your buddy! I want to go home. I want my mama.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Teddy. You can’t go home.”

  “Why not! Why not, Danielle! I want to go home.”

  I exhaled loudly through my nose and watched him as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “They won’t take you back.”

  “No!” he shouted, his movements gaining speed. “No! That’s not true, see. That’s not true. You’re keeping me here. You’re keeping me here, Danielle, and it’s wrong. I want to go home. I want to go home!”

  “There’s nothing there for you anymore, Teddy.”

  “I want to go home!” he screamed.

  There was no use fighting this. I figured it was best he see for himself.

  I dressed and we got into my Jeep. We drove to his parents’ house. A light was on in the upstairs bedroom though it was nearly eleven o’clock. We parked by the curb, and he jumped out and ran to the door. I got out and leaned against the hood of my car. I wanted to turn away.

  “Mama!” he shouted. “Mama, open the door. Mama!”


  Another light went on, a hallway light. Then another in the living room. The curtains in the living room opened and Riley stood there. Teddy saw her and squealed, “Mama!”

  Riley hesitated. The two of them watched each other, and Teddy jumped off the porch and pushed his way through the bushes to get to the window his mother was standing behind. He put his hands over the glass, as though trying to touch her. Riley watched him for another few seconds, and then the curtains closed.

  “Mama!” he screamed. “Mama, open the door. I wanna come home. Mama I wanna come home!”

  I couldn’t watch. I looked at the pavement instead, and the way the glass that had been crushed into it glimmered in the moonlight. A car drove past as Teddy screamed and pounded on the window. Then he went back to the door and tried opening it, then he tried hitting and kicking it. The light in the living room went off, then the light in the hallway, then the light upstairs. The house was dark.

  “No! Mama, please. Mama, I wanna come home. Please!”

  I got off my car and went to Teddy, who was now pounding so hard on the door I thought he would break his hands. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. He struggled against me, kicking and spitting and screaming.

  “No, Mama, please! Please. I wanna come home. I wanna come home! I’ll be a good boy. I wanna come home.”

  I pulled him off the porch, and he collapsed onto the grass, crying so uncontrollably that strands of drool hung from his mouth. I held him in my arms and eventually he turned to me and wrapped his arms around my neck as he wept.

  “Why doesn’t she want me, Danielle? Why doesn’t she want me?”

  I couldn’t get any words out, though I wanted to say something. Something that would make him feel like he mattered, like he was a human being . . . but nothing came out of my mouth.

  I felt the warmth of tears on my own cheeks as I said, “I don’t know why, buddy.”

  36

  I was about to drop Teddy off at school several days later. We sat in the Jeep for a second and he rocked slowly back and forth. We’d been talking the past couple of days about what happened at his mother’s house, but I’m not sure he fully understood. I hadn’t told him anything about my past.

  Finally, I swallowed and said, “My mama left me, too. I was younger than you. She said we were going to Disneyland and then dropped me off at a girls home. I’ve never seen her again.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t really think about her. That’s what happens, Teddy. You’ll have your own life and your own family.”

  He sat quietly for what seemed like a long time and then said, “Okay, bye, Danielle,” and left. I watched him go to the teacher and she waved to me, letting me know she had him. After he was gone, I sat a minute longer before driving off.

  I had the hearing on the motion to quash today. I had a few other things scheduled as well, but I sent out some text messages to defense attorney buddies of mine and had them cover those. I didn’t want to think about any other cases right now.

  I drove to Richardson without music and rolled the window down to get some air. Halfway there, I stopped at a Chick-fil-A and got a sandwich and a Sprite.

  The courthouse parking lot was full and I had to park across the street. I finished my sandwich while leaning against the hood of my Jeep and watching people pile into the building. People going into court always looked nervous, and people coming out usually looked devastated. I had yet to leave a court without seeing someone crying in the parking lot.

  One couple was arguing. The male was dropping the female off at work. They were yelling about a bill that hadn’t been paid or something along those lines. I remembered the ridiculous arguments Stefan and I used to get into. Most of the time, I couldn’t even remember what they’d been about five minutes after they happened. So much useless aggravation and fighting. I couldn’t see the big picture then.

  Will texted me. Good luck. He was always looking out for me, and it made me smile.

  When I walked into Roscombe’s courtroom, I immediately knew something was wrong. Double D sat at the prosecution table and was laughing at something the public defender sitting next to him had said. When he saw me, he stopped laughing, sat quietly, and faced the bench. I sat down at the defense table. The public defender cleared his throat and gave me a sad little grin as he walked by. Whatever the problem was, apparently he knew about it, too.

  The bailiff said, “All rise,” and Roscombe came out. He glanced at me and said, “Counsel, where is your client?”

  I rose. “Your Honor, Mr. Thorne had school today, so I would ask that his appearance be waived since his presence is not required for this hearing.”

  “State?”

  “No objection,” Double D said without looking at me.

  “His appearance is waived,” Roscombe said as he put on his glasses and opened a folder. “After having reviewed both the motion and the response from the State, I feel this case should be bound over as I originally found at the preliminary hearing. As laid out by supreme court precedent, the evidence at a preliminary hearing must be viewed in the light most favorable to the prosecution, and I feel there is enough evidence to presume that each element of the sole count is established, and that a crime was committed and that the defendant committed it. Multiple witnesses testified as to the defendant’s involvement in the sale of narcotics, and, though the question of credibility is one the trier of fact must analyze in a broader context of the case at trial, I found them sufficiently credible for this stage of the proceedings. I am therefore denying the defense’s motion to quash bind over.”

  “Thank you, Judge,” Double D said. “We did have one more item to address in this case.” He rose and cleared his throat, hesitating a second. “We believe the defendant is a threat to the community, and since the preliminary hearing has now concluded, we would like to readdress bail.”

  “What?” I said. “Your Honor, he’s not a threat to anyone. And he’s staying at my house. Where’s he gonna flee to, my backyard? We don’t need another bail set in this case.”

  Double D looked down at the table, running his fingers along the edge. Without looking up, he added, “We would be asking for a no-bail warrant to issue.”

  I nearly shouted, “Are you shitting me?” I looked to Roscombe. He was writing in the folder in front of him as if I hadn’t said a thing, then closed it and looked at me as he took his glasses off.

  “Your Honor, do I even have to address that? He doesn’t need to be in custody.”

  “Based on the recommendation of the State, I am issuing a no-bail warrant for the defendant in this matter, to be executed by the Hoover County Sheriff’s Office forthwith.”

  I stepped around the defense table so there was nothing between me and the judge. “That’s ridiculous. Even if the allegations are true, he was a juvenile when he committed them. He doesn’t need to be locked up.”

  “I disagree. Now is there anything else?”

  Double D said, “A new date for the post prelim arraignment, Judge.”

  “Wait a second,” I said to Double D. “You can’t think this is a good idea. He doesn’t need to be in jail. If you’re seriously worried about him, put him on a GPS ankle monitor if you have to, but there’s no reason to have him locked up.” He didn’t say anything and still wouldn’t look at me. “Is this Sandy?” I asked. “Did she tell you to do this because we’re not bending over and taking it from you?”

  “Counsel,” the judge bellowed, “I will not have talk like that in my courtroom. I have made my ruling and that’s that. If you want to save your client an arrest, have him self-report to the jail, but he is going into custody.” Roscombe leaned forward and stared into my pupils. “He is going to jail because I said so, and there is nothing you can do about it.” Then he leaned back again and looked at his computer screen. “The arraignment will be set for tomorrow morning at nine a.m. Make sure your client is here—if he is not in custody.”

>   “Your Honor, I will be filing an interlocutory appeal along with a motion to stay.”

  “The trial is set to begin Friday at eight a.m. Please have—”

  “Are you fucking shitting me!” I nearly ran to the bench and jumped over. The bailiff must’ve sensed it because he stepped between me and the judge.

  “Ms. Rollins,” the judge said with a chuckle, “if you ever swear in my courtroom again, I will lock you up and throw away the key. Do you understand?”

  “Did you not hear what I said? I’m filing a stay on this case.”

  “So file it. The trial is in three days. I’m pretty sure the court of appeals won’t be able to look at it by then. So you’d better prep the case.”

  “I won’t do it. I won’t go forward with trial. This is a gross violation of my client’s Fifth and Sixth Amendment rights, and over two hundred years of precedent. I won’t do it.”

  “Very well, I will have you removed from the case and appoint the public defender. Is that agreeable?”

  I hesitated, but only for a second. Will’s voice echoed in my head: Get out of this case. If I was going to do it, now was my chance. But the public defender wouldn’t go to trial. He would make Teddy plead guilty the first chance he got. Sandy would pressure the PD into doing what she wanted.

  “No,” I said, the fire leaving my voice. “No, I’ll do it.”

  “Excellent. Please be here at nine a.m. tomorrow for the arraignment and eight a.m. for the trial on Friday. You are excused, Counsel.”

  I followed Double D out of the courtroom. My insides felt like they had been tied into a knot. I grabbed Double D the second we stepped out into the hallway.

  “What the fuck, Jasper? What was that in there?”

  He shrugged. “This isn’t my case or my concern anymore. Sandy is personally taking it over. I was just following orders.”

  “I think that excuse has been used in history a few times. Let me think. Where have I heard that? Oh, right—Nuremberg.”

  “I’m just doing my job, Danielle. You got a problem, take it up with the boss.”

  He turned away and I grabbed his arm again. “Jasper, please, just tell me what is going on. Why have you guys lost your minds over this case?”