Theodore Boone: The Accomplice

Chapter 12

Woody’s new cell was a damp, dark little pit with barely enough heat to knock off the chill and a small yellowish bulb hanging from the ceiling to create shadows. There was a cot with one thin, dirty blanket, a chair, a commode, and a sink. There was no cell mate because there was not enough room for one. The walls were all cinder block, painted what appeared to be a dull dark gray, and no windows. The door was metal with a small window. He was alone, with no idea where Tony had been taken, no idea who was next door or across the hall. He could hear nothing but the distant hum of some type of motor or engine.

After an hour in solitary confinement, he started thinking of how nice it would be if Theo had left behind those dreaded textbooks, along with a pen and something to write on.

The cot squeaked when he stretched out and stared at the yellow lightbulb above, too far to reach. Sleep would be a welcome relief. Sleep would take him away from this mess and perhaps a dream would take him to a beach or the mountains. He had seen news stories of innocent men released from prison after serving decades, but he had never really stopped to feel sorry for them. He figured they must have done something wrong. And here he was, stuck in a jail as the hours and days crept by, a thoroughly innocent kid wasting time behind bars. Did anybody feel sorry for him? He was comforted to know that Theo and his friends were scrambling around trying to raise bail money, but two thousand dollars seemed impossible.

He thought of his father, a man who’d had a hard life and had made bad decisions that only compounded his problems. Where was he while two of his sons were in jail? And his stepfather? Why couldn’t he do something bold for a change and help the family?

Woody swore revenge against both men.

He rubbed the sore knots on his scalp and thought about Jock. Surely these idiot deputies had thrown that little thug into solitary as well. He provoked the fight then screamed like the victim. He worried about Tony, whose face was a mess. Surely they had taken him to see a doctor. He thought about his poor mother out there frantically trying to raise money.

And he thought about the future. The shock of being accused and arrested was wearing off, and a grim and frightening reality was settling in. At first Woody assumed that the misunderstanding would be cleared up in a matter of hours and he would go home. The system would deal with Garth, the guilty one. But as time was passing behind bars, Woody was beginning to fear the system. If they could convict an innocent man of murder and lock him away for thirty years, then they could just as easily send Woody and Tony away for a few months. Their lawyer, Mr. Rodney Wall, did not inspire a lot of confidence. He seemed to doubt their stories.

A hard knock on the door jolted him. It opened in and a deputy stepped in and handed him dinner on a plastic tray. Another deputy stood guard at the door, as if Woody might jump the first one, grab his gun, and start a jailbreak.

When they were gone, Woody sat on the cot with the tray balanced on his knees. A peanut butter sandwich on stale white bread, some sad little chunks of fruit in a cup, an apple, two slices of cheddar cheese, and a small carton of mango juice. He picked up the carton and stared at it. Mango juice? He was almost certain that he had never tasted such a beverage.

He choked it all down because he was hungry, and because there was nothing else to do. When he finished, he placed the tray on the floor and stretched out on the cot. He stared at the yellow bulb until he fell asleep.

A half a mile away, Theo was at his desk in the rear of Boone & Boone, with his dog at his feet and his homework spread before him, but he wasn’t studying. He and Chase and the others had agreed to hit social media hard and drum up support for Woody. They passed along to everyone they knew the scheme of flooding MobMoney with donations, but things were off to a slow start. By seven p.m. Thursday, only forty-one dollars had been raised.

Because Mrs. Boone was a busy woman who didn’t like to cook, the family dined out almost every night. And they had their rituals. Thursday dinner was always roasted chicken at a Turkish deli, with spicy hummus and pita bread. Theo biked over and met his parents, who came from the office.

The situation was still a bit tense, and it didn’t improve when Theo informed his parents that he was pledging his entire savings to spring Woody from jail. They didn’t like it, but at the same time they grudgingly admired his loyalty. The deli was busy so they spoke in low voices.

“It has taken you a long time to save that money,” his father said with a frown. Theo knew that. After all, he was the one who had saved the money. Why did adults always say things that were so obvious?

“I’ll start saving again,” Theo said. “The money is just sitting there in the bank, doing nothing. Might as well put it to good use. Some of the other guys are doing the same thing.”

“And how much is Daisy contributing?” his mother asked.

“She doesn’t have any money, Mom. We’ve had this conversation. She says she has only three hundred dollars in the bank. Mind if I check something?”

He asked this as he pulled out his cell phone, which was against the family rules at dinner. His parents thought it was really bad manners to stare at a cell phone during a meal. “We’re up to seventy-five dollars,” Theo said, and then explained the scheme behind MobMoney. His parents had never heard of crowdfunding.

Mrs. Boone and Mr. Boone exchanged the kind of adult look that kids are not supposed to understand. She said, “I suppose our law firm could help out a little. Don’t you think so, Woods?”

“Well, sure. How much are you thinking?”

“How about two-fifty, Theo?”

“That’s great,” he said, but it wasn’t great at all. If he, an unemployed thirteen-year-old, could pledge four hundred, then why couldn’t his parents, both busy and successful lawyers, donate a lot more than two-fifty?

“So what’s the total now?” his mother asked.

Theo mentally added the numbers and said, “Over seventeen hundred. We’re getting close.”

Theo checked the website before he fell asleep just after eleven. Money was trickling in from around the country, and it was adding up. Almost three hundred had been pledged to Free Woody!

Seven hours later, Theo was wide awake and staring at the screen of his laptop. MobMoney was over five hundred dollars, more than enough to spring Woody and Tony. He ran downstairs and informed his mother, and he insisted he be allowed to skip school to arrange the bail. She agreed to write a note permitting him to arrive two hours late.

Theo called Daisy with the news, and they worked out a plan to collect all the money that had been promised. He called Mr. Mount at home and said he would be late for school, but planned to show up with Woody. He texted his friends and ordered them to round up all the cash they could find. Chase shut down the MobMoney account and was collecting the money, which would take a few hours. At nine a.m. sharp he walked into the lobby of the bank on Main Street and politely asked a teller to empty his savings account. His father had assured him it was a simple transaction, but it took half an hour anyway. He left the bank with a cashier’s check for $402, all of his savings, but he didn’t care. He was only thirteen. He was somewhat proud of the fact that he could use his money to help a friend, plus he could start saving all over again. And what good was a savings account for a kid like him? He was an only child whose parents would one day happily pay for his college and anything else he needed. Besides, there was always the chance that Woody would pay him back.

He went to Boone & Boone and enlisted the help of Elsa. With his check and the ones from Ike and his parents, the total was $852. Daisy arrived with $500 in cash. She had managed to borrow some from friends. At school, Mr. Mount had $400 — his pledge plus another $200 from Aaron and Joey. He and Chase were attempting to collect from the MobMoney site.

“What’s a wire transfer?” Theo asked Elsa.

“It’s a way of moving money quickly. Banks do it all the time. One bank simply wires money to another, electronically, and they skip the hassle of mailing checks.”

“So how long will it take to get the MobMoney?”

“Not sure, but it shouldn’t take long. A few hours.”

“Where do they send the money?” Daisy asked.

They were sitting in the large conference room on the first floor, just down the hall from Mrs. Boone’s office. It was Theo’s favorite room, with a long wide table and thick leather chairs all around. The walls were covered with old, heavy law books that were seldom used. Daisy sipped coffee and looked as though she hadn’t slept in a week.

Elsa said, “Well, I suppose we could use our trust account, Boone & Boone.”

“What’s a trust account?” Theo asked.

“Every law firm has a bank account that’s used to hold money that belongs to clients. It’s called a trust account. The money does not belong to the lawyers but they hold it in trust for their clients. Pretty routine stuff. I’ll check with Mrs. Boone.”

Theo said, “I guess we should call their lawyer to make sure he knows what’s going on.”

Daisy said, “I called him an hour ago but he’s in court. I left a message but he never calls back.”

“Not sure about that guy,” Theo said.

“He’s always talking about how busy he is.”

“Don’t all lawyers do that?” Elsa said, then quickly changed the subject with, “What about the bail bondsman? Have you talked to him?”

“No, I haven’t,” Daisy said.

“I’ll go see him,” Theo said.

“You need to go to school, young man,” Elsa said.

“I’m too busy for school.”

Elsa peered over her reading glasses and gave him a look he had seen many times. “Shall I have a chat with Mrs. Boone?”

Theo stood slowly and headed for the door. “Don’t do that. I’ll stop by and see the guy on my way.”

“Thanks again, Theo,” Daisy said.

“They’re not out yet,” he said as he left.

Sparky was not to be found at AAA Bail Bonds. Theo spoke to a secretary, who asked why he wasn’t in school, and asked her to get Sparky to call him. She said sure but seemed preoccupied with other matters.

Reluctantly, he biked, as slowly as possible, across town to Strattenburg Middle School, knowing that the next few hours would be a waste of time. The clock was ticking and he worried that if Woody and Tony were not released on that Friday afternoon, things might get complicated over the weekend.