The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  The three people at the table nodded.

  "I have been briefed, and I see that there are still a lot of holes to fill in regarding this young man." Judge Healy pointed the hockey-puck of a paperweight at Rita Potter. "We're starting with you, Ms. Potter."

  All eyes turned toward the county counsel, the one person in the room personally charged by the state with making sure Billy Zuni's best interests were served. Thirty if she was a day, Rita Potter was a no-nonsense advocate. Her porcelain skin was unmarred even by make-up. There were no rings on her fingers and only tiny gold dots in her ears. A fine figure was hidden under uninspired clothes. Her doe eyes were pale and her nose a tad short. Her hair was long and lank but naturally blond. The tools of her trade were laid out neatly in front of her, her briefcase set precisely by her side.

  Josie looked at Rita Potter and smiled, but the one the county counsel returned was watery and less than inclusive. Okay, so they weren't going to be best friends. That was fine with Josie just as long as she didn't prove to be the enemy. Rita opened a folder, snipped the top page from inside and handed it to the judge.

  "We're all fact finding at the moment and the sheriff's department is being very cooperative, advising me as they continue their investigation."

  Josie's eyes flicked to Carl Newton. Ms. Potter may think Montoya was fact finding in Billy's best interest, but that was naive. The sheriff's personnel were working with Newton to get a perpetrator locked down fast. The press wanted that, the D.A. wanted that, and the sheriff wanted it off the books. Still, Josie let it go and listened.

  "Right now we know that Billy is improving but is still under careful watch at the hospital. His injuries – physical and psychological – make this placement delicate."

  "Do we know if he was present in the house at any time during the night?" the judge asked.

  "We do not have concrete evidence, Your Honor," Newton chimed in. "We are trying to establish the time frame of his movements."

  Josie broke in, not sharing the fact that Billy had admitted to being in the house. "It would take an eyewitness to establish that he was there at the time of the assault. If Mr. Newton doesn't have that, I object to the innuendo. It is beneath him and has no place in these proceedings."

  "This isn't a trial, Ms. Bates. No need to be confrontational." Judge Healy reprimanded her. "However, I will not ignore the fact that Billy Zuni is pivotal to Mr. Newton's investigation. Unless and until Mr. Newton tells me that the boy is a suspect in these murders, I will give weight to county counsel's recommendations not the D.A.s insinuations. Ms. Potter?"

  Rita Potter's tiny nose twitched, the only sign she was delighted by the import the judge gave her position.

  "My office believes a foster family placement is appropriate, but we must inform the parents of the circumstances of the need. So, Mr. Newton is correct to the point that the perception of criminal complicity would raise questions about safety of the foster family. This will limit our choices."

  "I can provide any number of character witnesses for Billy," Josie began, but Healy's finger went up again. Josie fell silent knowing she had sounded clumsy, too eager, and off point.

  "Other options?" the judge asked.

  "We could put him in a halfway house that handles juveniles coming out of Youth Authority," Rita suggested. "Security is higher and that might satisfy Mr. Newton."

  "And those are the kids who have served out sentences for murder and assault," Josie objected. "Billy couldn't defend himself physically or psychologically. That placement would be a death sentence."

  "That's a bit melodramatic, Ms. Bates," Carl Newton chided.

  "It's a sad fact, Mr. Newton," Judge Healy noted. "Even though I wish we could argue the point, Ms. Bates is right. But we may not have a choice if Ms. Potter can't secure a home situation."

  "I've identified three group homes, Your Honor." Rita took the opening and made it hers. "One in Westgate, one in East Los Angeles and another-"

  Josie interrupted again. "Billy's best interest would be served by keeping him in his home area with access to friends."

  "Ms. Bates, please." Healy admonished.

  "Your Honor, if I may." Carl Newton slid into the opening. "The District Attorney wants to make sure that Billy Zuni is well discharged, but under very close watch. One of the victims is quite prominent internationally. It would reflect badly on all of us if there was the perception we were not taking his death extremely seriously."

  "Dead is dead, Mr. Newton. This court cannot be swayed by who the victims were in life. If you have evidence, we will then talk about keep away in county jail, but not until you bring me something solid."

  Josie's heart stopped. It never occurred to her that anyone would consider such a radical move. In keep away, Billy would be isolated in a setting where there was no concern for his age or temperament. Jail was jail and isolation would make it even more gruesome.

  "Mr. Newton has no such evidence," Josie objected again, unnerved by how much latitude the judge was giving the deputy D.A..

  "And Ms. Bates is ignoring the fact that this boy might be a danger to himself. Consider the reason he is in the hospital. It was sheer madness to go into the ocean in a storm. That action could be construed as suicidal. I would have to ask why he wanted to kill himself? One answer might be that he had just killed two people and assaulted a third and did not want to be brought to justice."

  "Billy has no history of violence, depression, or suicide attempts. His record shows only minor infractions that plague half the juveniles in California," Rita interjected and Josie was grateful. Newton, though, was not to be put off.

  "This is a complicated situation," Carl Newton agreed. "However, we cannot ignore statistics, and statistics favor someone close to the victims. The person with access to the scene and a personal connection at least to Rosa Zuni is Billy Zuni."

  "Fine. Alright," Healy intervened. "Ms. Bates, in your perfect world, where do you see this boy?"

  "ILP. Independent living supervised by Child Protective Services is the appropriate decision."

  "Do you really think putting that boy back in a house where people were murdered would be beneficial to his physical or mental state?" Rita scoffed.

  Josie turned her head, locking down this woman's attention. They were supposed to be on the same side, but it didn't appear that was the way this was going to go.

  "No, I do not," Josie said. "But if the court grants him that status, I will personally see that he is settled somewhere that is both safe for him and meets the requirements of the district attorney's office as they continue their investigation."

  She appealed to Judge Healy, the only person in that room who really mattered.

  "Your Honor, Billy has no means, physical ability, or stomach for flight. He is devoted to his mother, and his only concern has been for her. Also consider that Billy is part of the fabric of Hermosa Beach. I can provide affidavits from citizens willing to transition Billy back into the community until either the District Attorney no longer finds him a person of interest – which he has not stipulated at this point – or his mother is well enough to exert parental rights. That would seem to be in the best interest of this child."

  "In this case it doesn't take a village, Ms. Bates," Healy sighed. Her solution was not going to be considered. "I cannot turn Billy over to a town. It's hard to believe no one has come forward. No relative, not even a friend of the mother."

  "That is precisely the point," Carl Newton concurred. "Billy has never had any supervision, and I can document that. The mother's youth might be a factor, but if she was neglectful of Billy while she was well, her judgment now that she is so desperately injured must be questioned. It is the court's responsibility to act in his best interest, certainly, but you give weight to the broader criminal issues. You truly cannot separate the two at this point."

  "But, I believe that the court should err in consideration of Billy Zuni as a victim," Rita insisted.
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  "And little Billy can skip off to the beach Scott free," Newton muttered, surprising everyone with this cut, but only Josie took exception.

  "Why is the District Attorney even at this meeting?" she demanded. "He undermines the seriousness of this problem. He would only be happy with a keep-away placement in county jail. If that happened, Billy could never go back to the community. I've seen it happen to a teenager before. The consequences are devastating and the dangers incalculable. I won't let it happen again."

  "Ms. Bates," Judge Healy warned, "I am the one who says what will and will not happen to this boy. Is that clear?"

  Josie detected a note of empathy under the judge's reprimand, but he had no idea how deeply personal this was. She had been wrong to let it show.

  "My apologies," she murmured.

  The judge cut his eyes to Carl Newton. The reprimand sent to the deputy D.A. was equally sharp.

  "Mr. Newton. You are here as a courtesy because you requested it. If you are planning to charge this boy tell me now, and we'll have a different conversation."

  Newton shook his head.

  "Then we are all agreed," Healy turned back to Josie. "Ms. Potter notes that Billy was regularly turned out of his house."

  "This is true, but beach culture is unique, Your Honor. "

  "I would suggest that cultural parameters are not your strongest argument," Healy warned. "There are laws against vagrancy and curfews. It sounds as if Billy was as good as homeless, so arguing that I release him to independent living in a community that had no care for him before this incident isn't appropriate. I will not consider it."

  Rita Potter jumped in again.

  "Judge, we really only have one choice and that is foster care. Given that, all we have to do is decide on the venue. I am concerned about a halfway house because of his injuries, but I also am aware that we don't want to put any citizen at risk. Foster parents without minors in the home would be the first choice."

  "Mr. Newton? Last go-round. Speak now," Healy passed the ball.

  "Billy Zuni is a seventeen year old boy with raging hormones," Carl Newton noted. "What a young man does and what he says are often two different things at that age. We must be extraordinarily vigilant."

  "Okay, then. I've got a full calendar this afternoon and I'd like to at least get a sandwich before I address it. So, listen up. Here's the deal. Ms. Potter. I am ordering a full psychological work-up."

  "In anticipation, Your Honor, I've already been in contact with Doctor Hardy. He's set aside time tomorrow."

  "I'd like to have a doctor of my choosing also examine Billy," Josie stated.

  "Do as you wish, Ms. Bates, but I will rely on county counsel," the judge said. "Ms. Potter, interface with the hospital doctors also. Find out if there are going to be any physical limitations or special needs that might affect his placement. I want that along with the psychological work-up. I want a list of approved options and that means specific families willing to accept him. Ms. Potter, you will also communicate appropriately with Ms. Bates, Mr. Newton, and all other interested parties."

  "Yes, Judge," she answered.

  "Mr. Newton, your office will coordinate with Ms. Potter on an hourly basis if that's what it takes. I do not want a public fight about this boy's situation just to satisfy your egos. Is that clear?"

  Everyone nodded.

  "If there is nothing urgent in the next forty-eight hours, we will be back here. . ."

  He consulted his calendar, picked up a pen, and made a notation while he spoke.

  "Day after tomorrow at three o'clock. We will entertain witness, but stay on topic. I will make a ruling based on the information we have that day. Mr. Newton, you are excused from that hearing unless you bring something concrete to the table. That's it."

  Everyone made motions to move on but Josie had one last card she wanted to play even though she knew the game was over.

  "Judge? We didn't discuss the KSSP."

  "It's a moot point, Ms. Bates. There is no relative to whom I can release him." Judge Healy dismissed her out of hand.

  From the corner of her eye she thought she saw Rita Potter and Carl Newton exchange a look. Rita stepped forward to add her two cents even though the judge had been clear. It was the failing of lawyers to want to always have the last word for the record.

  "Ms. Bates has a private investigator looking for a relative. Even if he identifies someone, let's see what kind of attention he or she gives Billy after the county places him. That way we can determine the true level of interest."

  Josie pleaded with the judge. "If I find a responsible relative in the next forty-eight hours, will you at least consider kinship placement? Or release him to independent living. I will personally vouch for Billy remaining in the jurisdiction."

  "Will he be living under your roof, Ms. Bates?" Carl interjected.

  The last-word bug bit them all much to Judge Healy's dismay. He tossed his pen onto the table.

  "Ms. Bates is his legal advocate not his guardian. That would be a conflict of interest I would not allow. That's it, if you weren't clear before. I'm done. You've all got your marching orders. See you in two days."

  They pushed their chairs back from the table, but the judge had one more word for Josie.

  "Ms. Bates, I expected more from you. From now on, let's keep it real."

  Josie couldn't argue with him. She had expected more from herself.

  CHAPTER 15

  2004

  Teuta ducked behind a street stall that sold leeks and potatoes and little else. It was late afternoon and the men were xhiroing, walking round and round the streets of the town before stopping to talk, take coffee, smoke, and drink raki as was their custom. Sometimes it was hard to gyro, for there were many more cars these days, most taken from other countries.

  Teuta was happy that her husband did not take a car that he did not know where it came from even though his distant relative often tried to give him one. Teuta and her husband were cautious people. They did not like receiving a gift for no reason, and Teuta did not like strangers driving through her town. She did not like the foreigners who walked across the mountain for fun. Those people acted like the villagers were children who didn't understand pity when they heard voices filled with it. Pity was pity, no matter what the language. Pity made Teuta angry, as did the poverty, and her children not having warm clothes.

  But what was one to do?

  Since the answer was nothing, Teuta thought instead of the goodness in her life. Her husband had found work in the chrome mine thanks to the American who had come to their home. It was hard work and did not pay much, but her husband was proud again. They were blessed. So many of the men sold vegetables on the street corner like the man who owned this stand in which she hid herself. He used to be a foreman at the factory where they made glass. Now he was nothing.

  "Can I help you?"

  Startled, Teuta whirled around, holding her bag to her breast. She laughed a little, thinking how silly it was when the panic came upon her. She shouldn't be hiding among the vegetables without knowing what she was hiding from. It was a feeling, nothing more. It was fright because she did not know the people in the cars and on the street.

  Because she did not want this man to know she was fearful, Teuta pointed to a very big leek. He was pleased. It was the most expensive leek he had so he spoke of it while he wrapped it: how it came from soft earth, how it had suddenly one day been perfect, how he knew she would cook it just so. She paid no attention, only handed over her money knowing she could ill-afford to be buying this vegetable when she grew the same in her own garden. Ah well, better that than explain that she was afraid and hiding from nothing.

  Teuta left the stall deciding it was the heat that made her heart beat faster, and her sweat making her headscarf moist. Perhaps it was that the man from America was back. He was coming to dinner, and Teuta wished to make him a fine meal to thank him for helping her husband. She would make byr
ek with this leek and they would talk about the byrek and the children would stand quietly.

  Teuta was smiling when she joined the gyro, made her way up the street and turned toward the school. She arrived just as the old man whose job it was to ring the hand bell did so. Children poured out of the building and she shook her head at the girls. There was no work for men, what would there be for girls who were educated? But her husband insisted that all his children go to school. Teuta didn't like the little one to be out of her sight to go to school, and yet she sent him as her husband wished.

  Standing at the top of the crumbling stairs that led to the building, Teuta craned her neck and saw her beautiful daughters. They waved at her and then looked back at the English teacher who had come from America. He worked for no money. He was a volunteer and that meant he did what his government told him even if he didn't want to. Now her daughters giggled behind their hands at him, thinking they were in love. He would be gone soon, and another would come. These girls would not get to America by marrying a handsome foreign teacher. Teuta would not like it if her girls married a man who did not have brains enough to get paid for his labor. Her girls laced their arms as they veered off toward the far end of town. Young girls walking alone together without their father or brother was something new. Then she saw her son.

  "Besnik! Besnik!" she called.

  The other mothers looked at her, then they looked at her son. Who could not look at him? This beautiful boy whose eyes were so bright, whose smile was more glorious than the sun, whose heart was bigger than any in the entire village.

  "Nënë!" Even his voice rang with beauty.

  Her boy came alongside her and they began to walk together. Already he was talking to her, taking her hand even though he was old for such a thing. That was when she heard a car behind them. She nudged her son aside to let it go by, but it slowed. It stopped. She was called.

  "Teuta? That is you, is it not?"

  A little breeze fluttered the end of her scarf. She was still smiling at something her son had said, but that smile faded when she saw who was speaking to her.