The Rooster Bar

24

The following Saturday, they left D.C. early in Todd’s car and drove two hours to the Bardtown Federal Detention Facility near Altoona, Pennsylvania. From the outside, nothing had changed since their last visit seven weeks earlier. The razor wire glistened in the sunlight. The tall chain-link fencing looked just as foreboding. The parking lot was filled with cars and trucks of the dozens of employees protecting the homeland.

Zola wore a long, loose black dress. As Todd turned off the ignition, she pulled out a hijab and draped it over her head and shoulders. “Such a good little Muslim,” Todd said.

“Shut up,” she said, and got out.

For the occasion, Mark Upshaw, her attorney, wore a coat and tie. He had called ahead to arrange the meeting, hoping to avoid the drama they had created the last time. Evidently, the paperwork was in order, and they were led to the same visiting room, where they waited half an hour for her parents and brother to be brought in. Zola introduced her friends again and hugged her mother.

They controlled their emotions as Bo, her brother, explained that they had no idea when they would be shipped out. An official had told them that ICE was waiting for enough Senegalese to be processed so the chartered flight would be full. No need to waste any seats for such an expensive trip. A hundred was the number they had in mind, and they were still rounding up illegals.

Bo asked about law school, and the partners agreed that everything was going well. Abdou, her father, patted Zola’s arm and said they were so proud of her for becoming a lawyer. Zola smiled and played along. She gave him a note card with the name of Diallo Niang, the lawyer in Dakar, and said that if at all possible he should call her when they were headed for the plane. Zola would immediately call Mr. Niang, who would try to facilitate their arrival. But there were many unknowns.

Zola’s mother, Fanta, said little. She held Zola’s hand and sat, downcast, sad, and fearful, while the men did the talking. After twenty minutes, Todd and Mark excused themselves and waited in the hall.

When the visit was over, they returned to the car and Zola removed the hijab. She wiped her eyes and said nothing for a long time. When they crossed into Maryland, Todd stopped at a convenience store and bought a six-pack. With the afternoon to kill, they decided to detour through Martinsburg and pay their respects to Gordy. In the public cemetery not far from the church, they found his new headstone, with fresh dirt around it.

On Sunday, Mark borrowed Todd’s car and drove home to Dover. He needed to see his mother and have a serious chat but was in no mood to deal with Louie. His situation had not changed and his case was slowly grinding through the system, with a trial date looming in September.

Louie was still asleep when Mark arrived around eleven. “He usually wakes up around noon, in time for lunch,” Mrs. Frazier said as she poured fresh coffee at the kitchen table. She wore a pretty dress and heels and smiled a lot, obviously happy to see her favorite son. A pot of stew simmered on the stove and smelled delicious.

“So how’s law school?” she asked.

“Well, Mom, that’s what I need to discuss,” Mark said, eager to get it over with. He told the sad story of Gordy’s death and explained how devastating it was. Because of the trauma, he had decided to take the semester off and ponder his future.

“You’re not graduating in May?” she asked, surprised.

“No. I need some time, that’s all.”

“What about your job?”

“It disappeared. The firm merged with a bigger one and I got squeezed in the process. It was a bad firm anyway.”

“But I thought you were excited about it.”

“I think I was pretending to be excited, Mom. The job market is pretty lousy these days and I grabbed the first offer that came along. Looking back, it was not going to work.”

“Oh, dear. I was hoping you might be able to help Louie after you passed the bar exam.”

“I’m afraid Louie is beyond help, Mom. They’ve got him nailed and he’s looking at some hard time. Does he talk to his lawyer?”

“No, not really. He’s got some public defender who’s very busy. I’m so worried about him.”

You should be. “Look, Mom, you need to brace yourself for the fact that Louie is going away. They caught him on video selling crack to an undercover cop. There’s not a lot of wiggle room.”

“I know, I know.” She took a sip of coffee and held back tears. Changing the subject, she asked, “But what about your student loans?”

She had no idea how much money Mark owed and he wasn’t about to tell her. “I’ve put them on hold for the time being. No problem.”

“I see. So if you’re not in school, what are you doing these days?”

“Working here and there, tending bar a lot. And what about you? Surely you don’t sit around here all day with him.”

“Oh no. I’m working part-time at Kroger and part-time at Target. And when I’m not working, I volunteer at a nursing home. And when I get really bored I go down to the jail and visit the lady prisoners. Jail’s just full of them. All drug related, you know. I swear I think drugs will be the ruin of this country. So I keep busy and try to stay away from here.”

“What does he do all day?”

“Sleeps, eats, watches television, plays video games. Gripes about his problems. I shamed him into riding my old bike down in the basement but he managed to break it. Says it can’t be fixed. I buy him some beer every now and then so he’ll shut up. The court order prohibits alcohol but he goes on and on until I buy beer. I figure no one will ever know.”

“Have you thought about moving up his court date?”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be a plea bargain, Mom. Louie’s not going to trial, because he has no defense. He’ll get a better deal if he simply pleads guilty and gets it over with.”

“But he says he wants to go to trial.”

“That’s because he’s an idiot, okay? If you’ll remember, I met with his lawyer when I was home for Christmas. He showed me the file and the video. Louie has convinced himself that he can smile at a jury and con them into believing that the cops entrapped him in a bogus drug deal. He thinks he can walk out of the courtroom a free man. Not going to happen.”

“How does a plea bargain work?”

“It’s simple. Almost every criminal case is settled with a plea bargain. He admits his guilt, avoids a trial, and the prosecution cuts him some slack on his sentence. He’s looking at a max of ten years. I have no idea what a deal might look like, but he could probably get five with time served. With good behavior, crowded jails, and so on, he might be out in three years or so.”

“And he wouldn’t have to wait until September?”

“I doubt it. With my limited knowledge, I don’t see why he couldn’t do the deal much sooner than that. That would get him out of the house.”

There was the slightest hint of a tiny grin at the corners of her mouth, but only for a second. “I just can’t believe this,” she said, her eyes drifting away. “He’s such a good boy.”

Maybe. Louie had flirted around the edges of the drug scene throughout high school. There were plenty of red flags but his parents had always chosen to ignore them. At every sign of trouble, they had rushed in to defend him and believe his lies. They had enabled Louie, and now the bill was due.

Mark knew exactly what was coming next. She looked at him with watery eyes and asked, “Could you talk to his lawyer, Mark? He needs some help.”

“No way, Mom. Louie is going to prison and I’m not getting near his case. The reason is simple. I know Louie, and he’ll blame everybody but himself. And he’ll especially blame me. You know that.”

“You’ve always been so hard on him.”

“And you’ve always looked the other way.”

A commode flushed in the back of the house. Mrs. Frazier glanced at the clock and said, “He’s up early. I told him you were coming home for lunch.”

Louie lumbered into the kitchen with a big smile for his brother. Mark stood, got bear-hugged, and tried to seem happy to see him. Louie resembled a grizzled bear shaken from hibernation: unshaven, matted hair, eyes puffy from too much sleep. He wore an ancient Eagles sweatshirt that was straining around the waist and baggy gym shorts that would fit a nose tackle. No shoes or socks, but the ankle monitor. It was undoubtedly the same outfit he slept in.

Mark almost made a crack about his obvious weight gain, but let it pass.

Louie poured himself some coffee and took a seat at the table. “What are you guys talking about?” he asked.

“Law school,” Mark said quickly, before Mrs. Frazier could say something about Louie’s case. “I was just telling Mom that I’m taking a semester off. Need some time to readjust. My job disappeared and the market is pretty soft right now, so I’m sort of catching my breath.”

“That sounds fishy,” Louie observed. “Why would you quit with only one semester to go?”

“I’m not quitting, Louie. I’m postponing.”

Mrs. Frazier said, “His best friend committed suicide and this is really bothering him.”

“Wow, sorry. But it seems weird to blow off your last semester.”

Yes, Louie, but you’re hardly in a position to comment on the career paths of others, Mark thought, but was determined to avoid tension. He said, “Believe me, Louie, I have things under control.”

“I’m sure you do. Say, Mom, what’s in that pot on the stove? Something smells good.”

“Beef stew. How about an early lunch?” She was already getting to her feet. As she opened a cabinet, she threw Mark under the bus with “Mark thinks you should consider a plea bargain, Louie. Have you discussed this with your lawyer?”

Great, Mom. Now we can slug it out.

Louie smiled at Mark and snarled, “So you’re practicing law now, huh?”

If you only knew. “Not at all, Louie, and I have no advice. Mom and I were just discussing things in general.”

“Sure you were. Yes, Mom, I’ve discussed it with my lawyer, during one of our few conversations. And if I plead guilty, then off I go, with credit for time served, which includes house arrest with my little ankle bracelet. So I could spend the next six months in prison, avoiding gangs, taking cold showers with my back to the wall, eating powdered eggs and stale toast, or I can spend the next six months right here. Not much of a choice is it?”

Mark shrugged as if he had no opinion. The wrong word at this point could ignite something nastier, and he wanted no part of it. Mrs. Frazier was busy placing paper napkins and old silver on the table.

Louie went on, “I’m not pleading guilty, regardless of what the two of you think. I want my day in court. The cops entrapped me and I can prove it to the jury.”

Mark said, “Great. I’m sure your lawyer knows what he’s doing.”

“He knows more about criminal law than you do.”

“Of course he does,” Mark said.

Louie slurped his coffee and said, “But, I was hoping that after you passed the bar exam this summer you might be able to help a little with my case, maybe sit with me at trial so the jury will think I have two lawyers, you know? I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“No, it’s not going to happen. I’m taking a break.”

“That’s really weird.”

She placed three bowls of steaming beef stew on the table. Louie attacked his as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. Mark glared at his mother, then glanced at the clock. He’d been there for forty minutes and couldn’t imagine staying another hour.