Leapholes

Chapter 15

When Ryan and Hezekiah finally landed on their feet, they were standing in a long hallway with soaring, cathedral-style ceilings. Tall columns of fluted granite supported sweeping stone arches. The floors were polished marble, and the gloss was so high that Ryan could almost see his own reflection.

Ryan removed his VLE helmet. His clothes were soaking wet. "Where are we?" he asked.

Hezekiah took him by the arm. "Come with me. There's not a minute to spare."

They walked quickly down the impressive corridor to a set of double brass doors. The sign on the door read,

"What society?" said Ryan.

"Never mind that," said Hezekiah. "You're not a member. Quiet now. I could get in big trouble for bringing you here." Hezekiah pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the doors. The heavy door opened slowly. Hezekiah pushed Ryan inside. He took him straight to a locker with an old oak door that bore the name HEZEKIAH. The old man opened it and removed a black robe. It reminded Ryan of a graduation gown.

"Put this on," he told Ryan.

"Why?"

"Just do as I say. We're going to be late!"

"Late for what?"

"There's no time to explain. Just put on the robe."

Ryan removed his wet clothing and pulled the robe over his head. It was a heavy garment made of very fine cloth. Hezekiah helped him with the clasps in back. Then the old lawyer pulled another black robe out of the closet for himself.

"How do I look?" said Ryan.

"No sillier than I, I'm sure."

They shared a quick smile, and then Hezekiah turned serious. "We must go now. Follow me. And hurry."

Hezekiah led the way. They exited through the same set of double brass doors. At the long hallway, however, they headed in a different direction. Ryan almost had to run to keep up with Hezekiah. Finally, they stopped at another set of brass doors at the other end of the hallway. These doors were even bigger and more impressive than the other set.

"What is this place?" asked Ryan.

"The Court of Justice."

"Why are we here?"

"For you, of course."

"Me?"

"Yes. Your trial is about to begin."

Ryan gasped. "My trial! But-"

Before he could finish, Hezekiah pulled him aside, shushing him. "You're ready, Ryan. Trust me. Trust me more than your father and mother did."

Ryan scrunched his face, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I've been waiting for the right moment to tell you this, but I don't think the right time will ever come. So here goes. I wasn't exactly appointed out of the blue to be your lawyer."

"What was it-magic?" he said, smirking.

"I have good sources at the Court of International Justice. When I heard you were in trouble with the law, I immediately volunteered to represent you."

"Why?"

"I was your father's lawyer."

Ryan's mouth opened, but the words were slow to come. "No you weren't. I saw his lawyer in the courthouse."

"That was his new lawyer. Your parents hired me first, but they fired me after a couple of weeks."

"They fired you? Why?"

"Your mother thought I was too old. Your father thought I was too crazy, basketball shoes and all that. So they dismissed me."

"So, you were willing to defend my dad? I guess you aren't one of those lawyers who loses sleep over defending the guilty, huh?"

"You think your father was guilty, Ryan?"

"Well, DUH! I was in the courtroom when he pleaded guilty."

"That doesn't mean he was guilty. It's just like someone who enters a plea of 'not guilty.' That doesn't mean they're innocent."

"What does it mean?"

"Courtrooms are as much about proof as they are about truth, Ryan. When people stand up in court and say, 'I'm not guilty,' sometimes what they're really saying is that the prosecutor just doesn't have enough evidence to prove them guilty. Do you understand?"

"I think so. It's like the time I was in a crowded elevator with my friend Sweaty Colletti. Sweaty let out a real silent but deadly one. Everyone was looking around, trying to figure out who was the silent stink bomber. When I told Sweaty I knew it was him, he didn't deny it. He just laughed and said Trove it.'"

"Crude," said Hezkiah, wincing, "but you appear to have grasped the concept. A plea of not guilty is like saying Trove it.'"

"But a man who pleads guilty, like my father, is a totally different situation. What could he possibly be saying other than 'I admit it: I did it.'"

"Usually he is saying, 'Yes, I did it.' But maybe once in a while there are other things involved."

"Like what?"

"I can't talk about that, Ryan. Even though your father fired me, I was still his lawyer for a period of time. Everything a lawyer and his client talk about is completely confidential. I can't discuss it with anyone. Not even you."

"But you're the one who started this. You can't just open this box and then slam it shut. Are you saying my father pleaded guilty to something he didn't do?"

The old man considered it, but he was clearly struggling. "I can tell you this much, Ryan. Had I remained his attorney, I would have advised him to plead not guilty."

"Is that because he was innocent? Or because you thought the prosecutor just didn't have enough evidence to prove that he was guilty?"

"Like I said, Ryan. That's all I can tell you."

They locked eyes, but it was clear to Ryan that Hezekiah would never say another word about it.

"Enough about your father," said Hezekiah. "Let's deal with your case now. Are you ready, my boy?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Great. Let's go."