Theodore Boone: The Accomplice

Chapter 7

Theo suffered through the afternoon, watching the clocks in his classrooms and thinking of nothing but Woody in jail. When the final bell rang, he sprinted to the small auditorium where the Debate Team was gathering for a practice session. Mr. Mount coached them. Theo was the captain, but he was in no mood to practice. He whispered to Mr. Mount that he had an idea to help Woody and needed to skip the session.

“I’m going straight to my mom and insist that she go to court to see the judge,” he said.

“But she doesn’t work in Youth Court,” Mr. Mount said quietly.

“I know, but I can beg her for a favor. And it’s getting late in the day. If we don’t do something fast, Woody will spend another night in jail.”

“Take off,” Mr. Mount said, and Theo disappeared. Ten minutes later he slid to a stop in the gravel lot behind Boone & Boone. He burst through the rear door and into the small room he called his office. Judge was nowhere in sight. Vince, the paralegal, and Dorothy, the real estate secretary, were not in their offices. The door to his mother’s office was closed, which of course meant she was meeting with a client. Theo walked to Elsa’s desk and braced himself for the daily ritual of hugs and questions. But she was on the phone and couldn’t grab him. She smiled, indicated that the call might take some time, and sort of waved him off. Judge aroused from his slumbers and stumbled forth for a good head-scratching. But Theo was too busy. He bounded up the stairs to confront his father, but Woods Boone was gone, too.

At times the place was packed, with meetings everywhere and clients waiting in chairs. At other times, it was deserted. Theo, with Judge close behind, went downstairs where Elsa was hanging up. “I need to see my mother right now,” he demanded.

Elsa could tell he was in no mood for small talk. “She’s with a client. What’s going on?”

Theo gave her the quick version of Woody’s troubles and ended with, “I want my mom to go to Youth Court right now and help Woody.”

“Well, your mother is with a client who’s having a bad day.”

All of her clients had bad days. Almost all were women struggling through divorces. Most of them arrived stressed and left in tears. Theo had learned to avoid the front section of the firm when his mother was with a client. He had actually heard them in her office crying.

“I’m not going to interrupt them,” Elsa said, somewhat sternly. She was the sweetest person Theo knew, but he also knew that when she dug in, she was not going to budge.

“Then I’m going in there.”

“No you’re not. I suggest you wait until four o’clock when the meeting is over.”

Theo retreated to his office, with his dog, and unpacked his backpack. Homework was out of the question. He opened his laptop, found Garth’s Facebook page, and quickly learned that the kid was out of jail and laughing about his arrest.

Theo fumed some more as the minutes dragged by. Four o’clock came and went without a word. He eased to the front and hid in the large conference room, waiting for his mother’s door to open. When it finally did, a well-dressed woman stepped out, wiping her eyes, and left without a word. Theo rushed in and said, “Mom, Woody got arrested last night and he’s still in jail. You gotta go help him.”

Mrs. Boone calmly closed the door and pointed to a leather sofa. Theo sat down and took a deep breath. Of all the many things he admired about his mother, her coolness under pressure was the most impressive. Marcella Boone was never rattled. She spent long hours every day dealing with extremely anxious clients, and demanding judges, and tough lawyers on the other side, and she rarely lost her cool. And, when her only child was troubled, she found the time to listen.

Theo told her everything he knew about Woody’s big adventure. She, too, was stunned and worried about him and Tony. “You’ve been concerned about Woody,” she said.

“Sure, and things are worse now. Why can’t you go over to Youth Court and ask Judge Pendergrast to set bail. You know him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Theo, but I don’t represent Woody. As you know, I don’t handle criminal matters.”

“He’s not a criminal, Mom.”

“No, he is not, but he’s in the middle of a criminal mess, and for the time being he will be processed through Youth Court.”

“Look, Mom, it’s not unusual for one lawyer to handle one hearing and then another take over the case for the later stuff, right?”

“I suppose,” she said, but she knew he was right.

“Then let’s go see Judge Pendergrast, ask him to set bail, as low as possible, and get Woody out. Then tomorrow or the next day the public defender will take over and defend Woody.”

Mrs. Boone glanced away, and Theo knew he was onto something. She stood, walked to her desk, picked up the phone, punched some numbers. Looking at Theo, she said, “Yes, this is Marcella Boone, attorney, and I’m looking for Judge Pendergrast. I need to speak to him.”

She listened, glanced at her watch, and asked, “What time will he be in tomorrow?”

She listened, nodded, said, “Please ask him to call me in the morning.”

She hung up and said, “He’s gone for the day.”

Theo said, “It’s barely four thirty. How can the guy leave so early? That means Woody and Tony have to spend another night in jail. This is ridiculous.”

“Judges have heavy dockets, and then some days are lighter. If there’s nothing to do, they often leave a bit early. Judge Pendergrast is a hard worker.”

Theo dropped his head and shoulders and gave up. Elsa tapped on the door as she opened it and said, “Your four thirty appointment is here.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Boone said. “We’ll discuss this later, Theo. Now go do your homework.”

Dinner was a soggy sandwich on stale white bread, a banana, a thin marshmallow pie, and a carton of warm apple juice. Woody and Tony devoured it while complaining to each other about it, but they were hungry. Lunch had been a cold pasta concoction they’d had trouble choking down. Breakfast was hours away.

A television hung from the ceiling at the end of the hallway, but they could not see it. Not that they really wanted to. Game shows were at full volume and the noise was oddly comforting. The noise reminded them that life somewhere was normal.

The hours passed slowly. The television was turned off. A guard walked through and announced that lights would go out in thirty minutes. Two more guards appeared with a new prisoner, an older boy who looked well beyond eighteen years. They stopped at the door, unlocked it, and shoved him inside with Tony and Woody. The cell had two bunk beds, no more.

When the guards left, the new guy said, “I’m Jock, and you’re?”

“I’m Tony. This is my kid brother, Woody.” There was no effort to shake hands. Jock had the look of a kid with an attitude, a tough dude who’d seen several jails from the inside. He looked at the bunks and said, “I’ll take the top one, if that’s okay?”

“That’s mine,” Woody said. “First come, first served.”

“Oh really? And who’s making the rules around here?”

“The guards,” Tony said.

“Don’t see any guards right now. Look, I’ll make this real simple for you two brothers. If you want to start some crap, let’s get it over with. I’ll take on the two of you right now, and I promise you that within thirty seconds you’ll both be on the floor, spitting blood and missing teeth. Is that what you want?” He suddenly shoved Tony hard and he banged into a concrete wall.

There was little doubt that Jock had been in many more street fights than the Lambert boys. He was lean and hard, with thick arms, one of which had a tattoo on it. He also reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were red and sort of crazed looking.

Tony showed him both palms and said, “Fighting won’t solve any problems around here.”

“Smart boy,” Jock said. He stepped onto the bottom bunk and vaulted onto the top one where he stretched out and closed his eyes.

Tony and Woody looked at each other and shrugged in defeat. Losing a bunk was better than losing some teeth, and Jock seemed eager to throw punches. They settled down into the bottom bunk, Tony on one end, Woody on the other, and tried to make themselves comfortable.

It would be a long night.