Sins of the Fathers

by James Scott Bell

  “Of course we do, and we want to be part of your healing.”

  “I don’t want to heal. I want to stay sick.”

  “Nobody wants to stay sick.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want, Syl.”

  “You’re one of my closest friends in the world, and I can’t stand to see you suffering like this—”

  “All you have to do is leave, and you won’t see it.”

  “But your relationship with God is hurting and I can’t let that go.”

  “Let it go.”

  “You need to forgive this boy.”

  Mona glared at her, ice forming in her chest. “Don’t tell me that.”

  “It’s not me telling you. You know that. You know that we’re to forgive, that Jesus commands it.”

  “You sound like Pastor Clark.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “He came to see me. Preached at me about forgiving. You know, I actually checked out the Bible on it. Did you know that? I looked it up. It’s in Luke.”

  She got up and took a Bible from the bookshelf. She had a bookmark in it.

  “Listen. ‘If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, “I repent,” forgive him.’”

  “Yes,” Syl said.

  “First of all, it says your brother. Second of all, it says if he repents. That’s what Jesus said. I don’t see any repentance in this boy, and he is not my brother.”

  Syl swallowed, with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Mona had her high beams on.

  “But what about Jesus on the cross? He asked God to forgive the ones who were crucifying him.”

  “It’s up to God then, not me. If God wants to forgive that boy, fine. But I don’t have to. I don’t. And I’m not going to.”

  3.

  “You got a message.”

  Darren looked out from his cell at the deputy. Hedgecock was one of the bad ones. From hell. Don’t listen.

  “You listening?” Hedgecock said.

  Darren sat on his cot, looking down. Hedgecock was trying to get to him, like he always did.

  “Your lawyer . . .”

  Darren’s head snapped up.

  “Yeah, your lawyer. You interested?”

  He wants me to talk. I won’t.

  “I asked you a question. You interested in a little news about your lawyer?”

  What is it? Does she want to stop being my lawyer? She want to goaway? I bet she does. They all do.

  “Hey, I don’t have to say nothin’,” Hedgecock said. “You can sit and think about it.”

  He turned around and started walking down the corridor.

  “Come back!” Darren stood up.

  Another K–10 screamed an obscenity.

  “Get back here!” Darren screamed.

  The deputy laughed, turned back. “That’s better, little man. You gonna behave now?”

  Darren nodded.

  “Your lawyer, she’s in the hospital. Ran off a road. You’re gonna need a new lawyer. Good luck.”

  Hedgecock walked away.

  “Stop!”

  Hedgecock ignored him. A voice screamed at Darren to shut up.

  He screamed back. Then he threw himself against the wall. And again. And again.

  The devils came in to stop him. Hedgecock was one of them, and he cursed at Darren while they tied up his hands.

  4.

  Lindy was being crushed under a boulder. It was night, no sound, only impending death.

  As the dream faded she became more aware of the pain enveloping her. The night of the dream gave way to the glare of the hospital lights.

  Bad shape.

  Thank God I’m alive.

  Darren.

  Her lips felt like balloons. She tried to move her tongue and form a word, but everything wanted to stay just where it was.

  She did not move. To move was to bring pain.

  What had happened? She was riding, yes, she remembered that. Remembered the fog. The Valley. And something alongside.

  A ring of some kind. What was it?

  She groaned.

  Darren.

  What was the ring? Familiar.

  Don’t go back to sleep.

  The ring.

  “You awake?”

  Roxy’s voice. Lindy groaned.

  “Girl, you look fantastic,” Roxy said. “Frankenstein’s got nothin’ on you. The electrodes in your neck will go perfectly with your—”

  “Don’t . . . make me . . . laugh.”

  “I thought we were going to lose you. You were out, baby.”

  “How long?”

  “All day. You can do a public service announcement now.”

  Lindy tried to figure out what Roxy meant, but thinking was painful too.

  “Your helmet saved your life. Didn’t do much for your face, but outside of the improvement, nobody’s gonna know the difference.”

  Lindy fought off a smile.

  “I prayed my knees off for you,” Roxy said. “I want you talking to God about this.”

  “Later. My cat.”

  “Taken care of. Your neighbor, that funny old man, he’s gonna feed him.”

  “Likes Fancy Feast.”

  “Your neighbor?”

  “Cardozo.”

  “I knew that.”

  Hot slivers of pain shot through her.

  Roxy’s voice was anxious. “Need the doc?”

  “No.”

  “What happened, Lindy? How could you have gone off like that? You know I’ve been telling you to get rid of—”

  “Roxy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen.” Lindy motioned with her left arm. Her right was encased in plaster. Roxy leaned over the bed.

  “Between us. Understand?”

  Roxy nodded.

  “I don’t think . . . it was an accident.”

  “Huh?”

  “Deliberate.”

  Roxy sat back slowly, pulled by an invisible string. “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “We have to tell the police, we—”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gut feeling.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I think it was a Mercedes. Dark color. No headlights. Moonlight. I saw the ring.”

  “Thing?”

  Lindy sputtered impatiently. “Ring.”

  “Ring . . . hood ornament?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “How is Darren?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Find out. Tell him I’m all right.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Tell him. And get Everett Woodard.”

  Roxy saluted, then kissed Lindy’s forehead. Lindy took hold of Roxy’s arm. “And while you’re at it, pray some more, huh?”

  “I’ve never stopped,” she said, and with another smile she was gone.

  Lindy pressed her body into the bed, trying to feel the points of pain. She couldn’t count them all. Broken arm and ribs, seeming oceans of black-and-blue skin. Her fingers found a line of stitches along her cheek, and she could smell the treated gauze that, for all she knew, held her body parts together.

  But she could move if she had to. She could stand up. She could walk and talk.

  But could she be a lawyer?

  Okay, God, why don’t you tell me? If you’re there. I’m not dead, Irealize that. Did you keep me from dying? Thank you if you did. I’m notready to die.

  I need to get better. I need to help Darren. Can you hurry thingsalong? Sorry if I’m being rude. I don’t know how else to ask.

  I need to know how to help Darren. No matter what people do, youlove them, right? Isn’t that the basic idea I’ve always heard about you?

  Then love Darren and show me the best way to help him.

  I need to know what’s going on. I want to know you’re there. I wantto see my cat.


  Show me you’re there.

  5.

  Leon Colby met Everett Woodard in the courtroom, just as the deputies were bringing DiCinni in. Woodard had the same dignified look as Calvert Colby, the same sincerity. He’d look good to a jury. But he was a law professor. What were his trial skills?

  “How’s Lindy doing?” Colby asked after they shook hands.

  “Pretty bad, but stable.”

  “Good. Tell her I said I hope she gets back on her feet soon.”

  “I will.”

  “You feel like talking any about a plea?” Colby watched the man’s eyes carefully, trying to size him up.

  “I think we should get the substitution settled first. We’ll have time to talk.”

  Colby shrugged. “I’d be willing to—”

  “Let’s just wait,”Woodard said. “First things first.”

  Sounds like Dad too.

  “I can tell you one thing, Professor. This is not a winnable case. I tried to explain that to Lindy, but she has this streak in her.”

  “Called a will to win,”Woodard said.

  “You have to do what’s best for the client.”

  “Thanks for the advice, and if you want some of mine—”

  “No, thanks.”

  The judge entered, and everyone stood up.

  Judge Weyer wasted no time.“Mr. Woodard, do you wish to make a motion to substitute in as counsel for the defense?”

  Everett Woodard said, “I do, Your Honor. However, I have not received the assent of our client, Mr. DiCinni. He wishes to address the court.”

  Judge Weyer looked skeptical for a moment.“Very well, but I will ask the questions. Please stand up,Mr. DiCinni.”

  Darren DiCinni stood.

  “You understand that your lawyer, Ms. Field, is physically incapable of continuing to represent you?”

  The boy made a halfhearted nod.

  “You understand that the trial must continue?”

  DiCinni nodded again.

  “You are entitled to the lawyer of your choice,” Judge Weyer explained.“However, if that lawyer is unable to continue to represent you, in this case because of a physical condition, you do not have the right to delay the trial indefinitely. Mr.Woodard is a close colleague of Ms. Field and has volunteered to take over your defense. My advice is that you accept the offer. If you do not, this court will be forced to assign a lawyer to you.”

  “I want my lawyer back,” DiCinni said.

  “Mr. DiCinni, did you not understand me?”

  “You don’t understand,” Darren said, his voice rising. To Colby it sounded very young. But the next words were not those of a normal young man. “You are all going to hell,” DiCinni said quietly. “You’re all against me. I know you. You are of the devil. You are—”

  Judge Weyer rapped her gavel on the bench. “That’s enough—”

  “—devils. Every one of you—”

  “Mr.Woodard, tell your client to—”

  Before Everett Woodard could say anything, Darren bolted toward Leon Colby.

  6.

  Using the handset attached to the bed, Lindy clicked to the afternoon news on channel nine. Yes, this hospital life was terrific. A television! What more did a recovering lawyer need?

  When was she going to get out of here? No one would give her a straight answer. These medical people, so careful. Why was that? Lawyers. We’ve done so much to make the medical profession feelsecure—

  Her ruminations stopped when she heard Sean McIntyre’s voice on the TV. He was standing in front of the Foltz Criminal Courts Building in a live shot, saying “That’s right, Peter. Stunning new developments in the DiCinni murder case, both inside and outside the courtroom. Just when you thought things couldn’t get more dramatic, from the accident involving the lead defense attorney to the fireworks we seem to see in court every day, this case continues to make unbelievable twists and turns.”

  That’s right, Sean. Milk the drama for all it’s worth.

  Lindy turned up the volume.

  “The day’s session just wrapped up,” Sean said, “oh, about half an hour ago. But not before the defendant, Darren DiCinni, went into a rant about hell and devils, and then attacked Deputy District Attorney Leon Colby. Let’s take a look.”

  Stunned, Lindy watched as the images unfolded. Darren calling everyone devils, and the judge trying to get order, and then Darren rushing Leon Colby.

  He got his hands around Colby’s neck.

  Leon looked shocked, but his big hands grabbed her client’s skinny wrists as if taking straws from a dispenser. And then the deputy sheriffs were all over Darren.

  Sean came back on. “As incredible as that outburst was, it was not the most dramatic development in the case today. Hard to believe, I know, but I have obtained, exclusively, an item that could throw the whole case in a new direction.”

  Now what?

  “I have just received this from a source who wishes to remain anonymous. It is the only known videotape of the shootings. This source was at the scene of the crime and just happened to take video of Darren DiCinni in the act of mass murder.”

  No . . .

  “What you are about to see is the only visual evidence to surface so far. I want to caution any parents who are watching to use discretion if there are any children in the room. The footage here is very disturbing. I just want to make that clear. Here it is.”

  Lindy had not seen the opening of the video. Apparently Sean had chosen not to reveal that to her. A slow anger started up inside her.

  The video showed the ball field as the game was going on. Parents yelled out encouragement; boys on the bench shouted to the opposing batter. The camera wobbled a little bit.

  Then the sound of a gunshot.

  A blur of an image as the camera moved. It came to rest on Darren as he sprayed shots wildly around the field. Then he stopped and began to walk away.

  The report cut back to Sean, looking down soulfully at an unseen monitor. He turned back to the camera. “Horrific footage,” he said. “Copies of the video have been turned over to representatives of the district attorney’s office and to the defense, Everett Woodard, who we believe is representing Darren DiCinni at this moment, although the judge has not made a final determination. Again, an amazing day in court. Now back to you in the studio.”

  Lindy nearly broke out of her cast. She couldn’t recall all the details of the video she’d seen in Sean’s apartment, but she knew one thing for sure—the video clip she’d just seen on TV had been altered.

  She grabbed the handset and buzzed for the nurse. When one finally came, which seemed like half an hour, Lindy sat up as far as her ribs would allow. “Get me a doctor, now. And while you’re at it, my clothes.”

  7.

  Leon Colby shook his head. To say that things were getting bizarre would have been an understatement. Attacked by a defendant! That had never happened to him in his entire career.

  Not that the kid did any damage. Colby had peeled him off his body like a BandAid. More disturbing was the possibility that the kid might be crazy after all.

  Then there was the matter of this reporter, McIntyre, showing up with key evidence. Seemed a bit too convenient, a perfect grandstand play. Why hadn’t anyone in the vast web of the prosecutorial team discovered this?

  Colby knew McIntyre, who always showed up to the high-profile cases, knew the guy would release footage of his own mother killing chickens if he thought it would help his résumé. This time, however, Colby suspected McIntyre was up to something more than publicity.

  He was still puzzling over all this when Judge Weyer entered the courtroom and called the proceedings back to order.

  Everett Woodard and Colby stated their appearances. There was one notable absence: Today DiCinni stayed in the lockup.

  “Certainly is a little quieter in here this morning,” the judge said, receiving laughter from the gallery. “Is there anything further from either counsel before I make a ruling on the substitut
ion of attorney?”

  “Not from the people, Your Honor,” Colby said.

  “I do have one thing,” Everett Woodard said.

  Colby looked at the man. What was he up to?

  “There will be no need to substitute an attorney,”Woodard said. “Ms. Field is going to continue representing Mr. DiCinni.”

  The judge did not look pleased. “How can she possibly continue?”

  “Her doctor has cleared her, Your Honor. He advises the use of a wheelchair while she’s in court, but that’s not uncommon.”

  Judge Weyer sat back in her chair with a skeptical look. “Of course not. A lawyer in a wheelchair can represent clients in court, but from what I understand, Ms. Field’s injuries are quite serious. Does she have the capacity to continue?”

  “I assure Your Honor that Ms. Field will be able to defend her client competently.”

  “I want to finish the prelim today. Unless there is good cause to issue a continuance, which I don’t see, I am going to appoint you as Mr. DiCinni’s lawyer.”

  “May we continue this tomorrow, Your Honor?”

  “No.”

  “Then I would request a recess until 11:00 a.m., at which time Ms. Field will be here.”

  With a sigh, Judge Weyer looked at Colby. “Any response?”

  Colby stood. “I know that Ms. Field is a zealous attorney and cares very much about this case. But if she tries to do the job and is unable, later the defendant may make an appeal based on ineffective assistance of counsel. Perhaps the prudent thing to do is to have an in-camera hearing with Ms. Field to see if Your Honor is comfortable with her continuing.”

  “I think that’s a good idea, Mr. Colby,” the judge said. “Mr. Woodard, how long will it take for Ms. Field to get here?”

  8.

  Lindy felt a little like a washing machine on the fritz. The cast, which enclosed her right arm, and the brace around her ribs were imperfect attempts to keep her up and running. Even here, in the familiar confines of Judge Weyer’s chambers, her mental and physical gears were knocking and wheezing, a double strain.

  But she was not going to go down without a fight.

  The way Judge Weyer looked at her wasn’t promising. “I have to be honest with you,” the judge said.“You don’t look like you can represent anybody. What you need is recuperation time. And I can’t stop this process while it happens.”