The Fugitive

Mrs. Boone was due in court at one, and of course Mr. Boone had urgent business back at the office. Theo and Ike strolled up and down Main Street, killing time, waiting for two p.m. when the lawyers would meet again and Judge Gantry would do the unthinkable: declare another mistrial.

At one point Theo said, “Say, Ike, do you ever think about the reward money?”

“Sure,” Ike admitted.

“What will happen to it?”

“Don’t know. On the one hand, Pete Duffy has been caught and he’ll serve a few years for escape. I suppose we can make a claim for the money on the grounds that he was found, brought back, convicted, and sent to prison. But on the other hand, the reward offer states that the money will be given to any person who provides information that leads to the arrest and conviction of Pete Duffy for the murder of Myra Duffy. Murder, not escape and evasion. So, it might be hard to collect the money if there’s another mistrial.”

“Then we’re out of luck.”

“Looks that way. Have you been thinking about the money?”

“Every now and then.”

“Well, forget about it.”

In front of Guff’s Frozen Yogurt, they passed two of the jurors, faces they recognized from the courtroom. Both wore large, round buttons with the word JUROR across the center, so everyone would know they were important and were not to be quizzed about the Pete Duffy matter.

Ike wanted coffee so they stopped at Gertrude’s, an old diner on Main, world famous for their pecan waffles. Theo often wondered if every small town boasted of some dish that was world famous. The place was packed with other familiar faces, folks Theo didn’t know but had seen in the courtroom. Everyone seemed to be waiting for two p.m.

If they only knew.

Theo said, “This is where my dad comes every morning for breakfast. He sits over there at that round table with a bunch of old guys and they eat toast and drink coffee and catch up on the gossip. Sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it?”

“I once did that, Theo, many years ago, at that same table,” Ike said sadly, as if he remembered a time that was far more pleasant. “But I don’t miss it. Now it’s more fun hanging out in bars late at night and playing poker with shady characters. The gossip is much better.”

Theo ordered an orange juice and they killed more time. At one thirty, his phone vibrated. It was a text from Judge Gantry: Theo, heard anything?

No, sorry.

Be here in 15 minutes.

Yes, sir.

“That was Judge Gantry,” Theo said. “He wants me back in his chambers in fifteen minutes. You see, Ike, he needs my help to decide this very important matter. He realizes how brilliant I am and how much of the law I know, and he has decided to lean on me during this crucial moment.”

“Thought he was smarter than that.”

“He’s a genius, Ike. It takes one to know one.”

“So how would you rule in this matter?”

“I would explain everything to the jury, proceed with the trial, and hope the prosecution has enough evidence to convict Duffy.”

“The prosecution doesn’t have enough evidence. We saw that during the first trial. And if you don’t declare a mistrial now, and if there’s a conviction, it’ll just be thrown out on appeal. You wouldn’t make a very good judge.”

“Thanks, Ike. What would you do?”

“He has no choice but to declare a mistrial. That’s what I’d do. Then, I’d tell the police to give us the reward money.”

“You told me to forget about the money.”

“Right.”

At one forty-five, Theo followed Mrs. Hardy into Judge Gantry’s chambers. She closed the door and left. Theo took a seat and waited while the judge finished a phone conversation. He looked tired and frustrated. A half-eaten sandwich was on a napkin in the center of his desk, next to an empty bottle of water. Theo realized that Judge Gantry didn’t have the luxury of stepping out for lunch. Some clown would surely ask about the trial.

He hung up and said, “That was the sheriff over in Weeksburg, a guy I know pretty well. No sign of our friend.”

“He’s gone, Judge. Bobby lives in the shadows, like a lot of undocumented workers. He knows how to disappear.”

“I thought your parents were trying to sponsor him and speed along his citizenship requirements. What happened?”

“Not sure, but I think the paperwork got backed up in Washington. They’re still trying, but things are moving real slow. Now, I guess it doesn’t matter. His mother is sick in El Salvador and he’s going home.”

“Well, he sure screwed up this case.”

“Judge, I have a question. During the first trial, when Bobby finally came forward, you declared a mistrial. The following week, Bobby went to Jack Hogan’s office and gave a formal statement. They used some ace translator, someone who does the Spanish in trials, and everything was recorded by a court reporter, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So why can’t that statement be read to the jury? That way, they’ll hear everything Bobby has to say and we can finish the trial.”

Judge Gantry smiled and said, “It’s not that easy, Theo. Keep in mind that when you’re accused of a crime you have the right to face your accusers, to cross-examine those who testify against you. Pete Duffy didn’t have that chance because his lawyers were not in the room when Bobby gave his statement. If I allowed his statement into evidence now, that too would be grounds for a reversal on appeal.”

“I guess it takes guts to be fair, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, you could say that.” Judge Gantry looked at his watch, frowned, tapped his fingers on his desk as if he were in no hurry, and said, “Well, Theo, I guess it’s time. You want to stay here or go back to class?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Figures.” He pointed to the same chair in the same corner and Theo reassumed his position. Judge Gantry punched a button on his phone and said, “Mrs. Hardy, send in the lawyers.” The door flew open and the room was soon crowded as they all gathered around the table. When the court reporter was ready, Judge Gantry said, “It is now two p.m. and the search for Bobby Escobar has been called off. The court has before it a defense motion for a mistrial. Anything further, Mr. Hogan?”

Jack Hogan reluctantly said, “No, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Nance?”

“No, sir.”

“All right.” Judge Gantry took a deep breath and said, “I’m afraid I have no choice in this matter. It would be unfair to the defendant to proceed without the testimony of one Bobby Escobar.”

From his pocket, Theo’s phone vibrated. He grabbed it, looked at it, and almost fainted. It was Bobby. He blurted, “Hang on, Judge!”

Chapter 23

Pursuant to Bobby’s request, Judge Gantry, Theo, and the translator drove five minutes to Truman Park and waited by the carousel. When they were in place, he stepped from behind a row of giant boxwoods and walked to meet them. His boots had mud caked on them. His jeans were dirty. His eyes were red and he looked tired. In Spanish he said, “I’m sorry about this, but I’m frightened and not sure what to do.”

The translator, a young lady named Maria, passed it along in English.

Judge Gantry said, “Bobby, nothing has changed since the last time we talked several months ago. You are an important witness and we need you to tell the court what you saw.”

Maria raised a hand — “Not so fast. Short sentences please.” She handled the Spanish, and Judge Gantry continued: “You will not be arrested or harmed in any way, I promise. Just the opposite. I’ll make sure you are protected.”

English to Spanish, and Bobby managed a quick smile.

News that the witness had been found roared through the courthouse and the downtown law offices. At three p.m., an even larger crowd gathered. Theo and Ike had prime seats two rows behind the prosecution, where they were joined by Woods Boone, who had somehow managed to pull himself away from the urgent business on his desk. As Theo looked around, he noticed a lot of the town’s lawyers jockeying for seats.