The Fugitive

  parents about the phone call.

  His father said, “Well, tomorrow should be a very interesting day in court.”

  Theo replied, “I think I should be there.” Though he was telling himself he had no interest in the trial and didn’t care what happened, he couldn’t deny the truth.

  “And why is that?” his mother asked.

  “Come on, Mom. Why can’t you admit that you and Dad and every other lawyer in this town would love to be in court when Jack Hogan is forced to announce that his star witness has disappeared? Talk about high drama. Clifford Nance will go nuts and jump up and down demanding a mistrial. There’ll be a big fight, everybody yelling, everybody shocked at what’s happening. You know you would love to see that.”

  “I’m very busy tomorrow, Teddy, and so are you. You’ve missed enough school and—”

  “I know, I know. But school is so boring. I’m thinking about dropping out.”

  “Might be a bit tough getting into law school if you don’t finish middle school,” his father observed wisely.

  “Good night,” Theo said, already headed for the stairs with Judge at his heels. He locked himself in his room, stretched out on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. There was only one thing left to do and he’d thought about it all afternoon. The idea was to send Bobby a text, a final, desperate plea to do what was right. He was convinced he could do it and not get caught. Bobby wouldn’t tell anyone; in fact, Bobby was probably racing across the country now, stuffed in the back of a truck full of apples headed for Texas.

  Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was still hiding, and his only means of contact was his cell phone.

  Theo opened his laptop and wrote a message: Hi Bobby, Theo here. The trial is almost over. Tomorrow is very important. And we need you to be here. You will be safe and you will do a great job in court. Please come back. Your friend, Theo.

  He pulled up a Spanish dictionary and began translating. Madame Monique always said that language learners make the mistake of trying to translate word for word, but at the moment, Theo had no choice. He tinkered with it for half an hour, certain it was full of little mistakes, then punched it into his cell phone. He hesitated, knowing he was doing something wrong, but sent it anyway.

  After an hour of fidgeting and tossing, he finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 21

  Theo awoke, well rested and ready for the day. In the shower, he thought about Bobby, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

  As he was getting dressed, he thought about Jack Hogan, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

  As he fixed two bowls of Cheerios, he thought about Pete Duffy, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

  As he was riding his bike to school, he crossed Main Street and saw the courthouse in the distance, but he managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

  As he was listening to Madame Monique talk about Spanish adjectives, he thought about his last text message to Bobby. Of course, there had been no response. But he managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

  As he was sitting in Geometry, and daydreaming about an upcoming camping trip, someone knocked on the door and it swung open. A grim-faced Mrs. Gladwell stepped into the room, ignored Miss Garman, looked straight at him, and said, “Theo, please come with me.” His heart and lungs froze and his knees were weak as he headed for the door. Outside, waiting in the hallway, were Officers Bard and Sneed. Neither smiled, and Theo’s hands and wrists froze, too, just waiting for the handcuffs.

  Mrs. Gladwell said, “I just spoke with Judge Henry Gantry, and he would like to see you in his office, immediately. He’s sent these two officers to drive you over to the courthouse.”

  Theo couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but stand there like a frightened little boy who really wanted his parents. “Sure,” he finally managed to say. “What’s going on?”

  Oh, he knew. Somehow his two text messages to Bobby had been discovered, and he was about to be charged with witness tampering. Judge Gantry was furious. Clifford Nance was demanding an arrest. His life was over. He was headed for Juvenile Detention.

  “Let’s go,” Bard said. They marched him down the hall like a man being led to the electric chair, or the gas chamber, or the firing squad. Theo was often amazed at how quickly gossip spread through Strattenburg Middle School, so he was not that surprised when several nosy teachers were standing in their open doorways, watching. In the front lobby, some seventh-grade students were arranging art on a bulletin board. They stopped and gawked at the prisoner as he was led away. A black-and-white police car, complete with logos and lights and antennas, was waiting at the curb.

  Sneed said, “Just hop in the backseat.”

  Theo climbed in and sank low. He could barely see out the window as the car began to move, but he managed to glance back at the school. Dozens of students were standing at the windows, watching young Theodore Boone get hauled away to face the fury of the criminal justice system.

  After a few minutes of total silence, Theo asked, “So what’s up, guys?”

  Bard, the driver, said, “Judge Gantry will explain everything.”

  “Can I call my parents?”

  “Sure,” Sneed said.

  Theo instead called Ike, who answered. Theo said, “Hey, Dad, it’s me, Theo. Look, I’m on my way to the courthouse to see Judge Gantry.”

  Ike said, “Okay, I’m outside the courtroom. There’s a recess; the jury is still out. Nothing has happened in the courtroom but I suspect Jack Hogan finally had to admit that Bobby Escobar has disappeared. Things are pretty tense.”

  Tell me about it. “Well, I’ll be there in a minute. Guess you’d better tell Mom.”

  “Will do.”

  They parked behind the courthouse and entered through a rear door. To avoid everyone, they took an old elevator to the second floor and hurried into the outer room of Judge Gantry’s chambers. It was packed with lawyers—Jack Hogan and his gang and the entire defense team. Hogan and Clifford Nance were in one corner, whispering about something that was terribly important. Everyone stopped and stared at Theo as he followed the two policemen to the big door.

  Inside, Judge Gantry was waiting, alone. He dismissed Bard and Sneed and said hello to Theo. He didn’t seem particularly aggravated, just tense. He said, “Sorry to bother you like this, Theo, but something important has come up. It seems as though Bobby Escobar has disappeared. Do you know anything about it?”

  At that point, Theo wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong, but he couldn’t change what had been done. And, he trusted Judge Gantry. He said, “Yes, sir. His cousin Julio Pena called me around midnight Monday and said he’d just talked to Bobby, said he had left the motel and was hiding.”

  “So you’ve known about this since Monday night?”

  “Yes, sir. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’m just a kid, you know?”

  “Did you tell your parents?”

  “I told Ike yesterday morning and my parents yesterday afternoon. We were hoping they would find Bobby and everything would work out.”

  “Well, they haven’t found him. Any idea where he is?”

  “Last night he called Julio and told him he was hiding in an apple orchard somewhere around Weeksburg, said he was planning to go back to Texas and cross the border. Julio called me and told me this.”

  Judge Gantry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was sitting behind his massive desk in shirt sleeves and a tie. Theo was sitting in a chair across from him, his feet barely touching the floor. He felt very small. “There’s something else,” he said, removing his cell phone. He found the two text messages to Bobby and handed the phone across the desk.

  Judge Gantry read the texts and shrugged. “These are in Spanish. Did you write them?”

  “I had help translating the first, but I wrote the second one.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I just told Bobby that today is an important day, that he’s needed her
e in court, that he’ll do fine and he’ll be safe. That’s all. I wasn’t trying to tamper with a witness. I promise.”

  Judge Gantry shrugged again and slid the phone back across the desk. “I’m impressed with your Spanish.”

  Theo grabbed the phone and felt his entire body relax. What, no handcuffs? No jail? No yelling at me for sending text messages to a crucial witness? He took a deep breath and managed to fully exhale. The knot in his stomach loosened a bit.

  “Did he respond in any way?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you talked to Julio this morning?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, it looks like I’m staring at another mistrial. Jack Hogan described Bobby’s testimony to the jury in his opening statement, and now the kid is gone. I can’t believe the police allowed him to get away.”

  “Hard to believe,” Theo said, but only because he couldn’t think of anything else.

  “You’d better hang around for a while, just in case he decides to call. Unless, of course, you want to go back to class.”

  “I’ll stay.”

  Judge Gantry pointed to a chair wedged in a corner between two heavy bookcases. “Take a seat over there and don’t make a sound.”

  Theo scampered to the chair and became invisible. Judge Gantry pushed a button on his phone and said, “Mrs. Hardy, send in the lawyers.”

  Within seconds, the door flew open and all the lawyers who’d been waiting poured into the room. Judge Gantry directed them to a long conference table and took a seat at the end. The court reporter set up her stenographic machine next to him. When everyone was settled, Judge Gantry said, “Let’s go on the record.” The court reporter began pressing her keys.

  He cleared his throat and said, “It’s about ten thirty on Wednesday morning, and the State has called all of its witnesses, with the exception of one Bobby Escobar, who is not here and evidently cannot be found. You agree, Mr. Hogan?”

  Jack Hogan kept his seat. He was obviously angry and frustrated, but also resigned to defeat. “Yes, Your Honor, that appears to be the case.”

  “Mr. Nance?”

  “Your Honor, on behalf of Pete Duffy, the defendant, I move for a mistrial, on the grounds that the prosecutor, Mr. Hogan, promised the jury in his opening statement that they would hear from an eyewitness, a witness who would be damaging to our case, a witness who could well determine the outcome. The jury had every right to believe this; indeed, we all believed it. Since Monday morning, the jury has been expecting the State to put this witness on the stand. Now, however, it appears as though this will not happen. This is grossly unfair to the defendant, and it’s obvious grounds for a mistrial.”

  “Mr. Hogan?”

  “Not so fast, Your Honor. I think this situation can be explained to the jury, and the jury can be told to disregard my opening comments. I’m happy to apologize to the jury and explain my actions. Everything was in good faith. We have presented enough proof to convict the defendant even without the testimony of Bobby Escobar. A second mistrial means that the murder charges will be dropped, and that would be an injustice.”

  Judge Gantry said, “I’m not inclined to agree, Mr. Hogan. The damage has been done, and the defendant has no way to cross-examine the witness. It seems quite unfair to him to promise the testimony of such a crucial witness and then not deliver.”

  Hogan’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. Clifford Nance barely suppressed a smile. Theo couldn’t believe his good luck—a ringside seat at the most important moment in the biggest murder trial anyone could remember. He absorbed every word without moving a muscle. No one seemed to realize he was there.

  Judge Gantry said, “We’ll stand in recess until this afternoon. The search is not over and I may have some new information. We’ll meet here at two. Until then, not a word of this to anyone. I don’t want my jurors to know what’s going on. Meeting’s over.”

  The lawyers slowly got to their feet and headed for the door. Judge Gantry motioned for Jack Hogan to stay behind. When the door closed and they were alone, he said to the prosecutor, “There’s an apple orchard outside of Weeksburg. Get the police to search it immediately.”

  Hogan left quickly, and Judge Gantry sat in his chair behind his desk. He looked at Theo and said, “What a mess. What would you do in this situation?”

  Theo thought for a second. He was struck by the loneliness of the job, the importance of making decisions that had such a heavy impact on the lives of so many people. When he wasn’t dreaming of being a great courtroom lawyer, he was dreaming of being a wise and respected judge. Now, though, he was having second thoughts. He wouldn’t want to be in Judge Gantry’s shoes at the moment.

  He said, “I like what Jack Hogan said. Why can’t you just explain things to the jurors and let them decide the case based on the testimony they’ve heard? There’s a lot of evidence that points directly at Pete Duffy.”

  “I agree, but if he’s convicted he will appeal, and the Supreme Court of this state will surely reverse the conviction. No trial judge likes to be reversed, Theo. That would mean we would have to try Pete Duffy for a third time, and that doesn’t seem fair.”

  “But wouldn’t that give us time to find Bobby Escobar?”

  “Do you really think they’ll find him?”

  Theo considered this for a second and said, “No, sir, not really. He’s probably halfway back to Texas right now. Can’t say that I blame him.”

  There was a loud knock on the door, and before Judge Gantry could respond, Mrs. Marcella Boone barged into the office and said, “Henry, where’s Theo?”

  Theo jumped to his feet and said, “Hi, Mom.”

  Judge Gantry stood and said, “Hello, Marcella. Theo and I are just discussing the trial.”

  “I heard he was arrested,” she said.

  “Arrested for what? No, he’s helping me consider the motion for a mistrial. Have a seat.”

  She took a deep breath, shook her head in either frustration or disbelief, probably both, and managed to relax.

  Chapter 22

  The police combed through the three apple orchards near Weeksburg and found nothing. Every undocumented worker within five miles had vanished into the woods; there was no sign of them and certainly no sign of Bobby. By noon, they had reported the bad news to the Strattenburg police. They checked on Julio and his mother, Carola; neither had heard from Bobby. They talked to his boss and he knew nothing. The search was over. The witness was gone.

  Theo had a pleasant lunch with his parents and Ike at Pappy’s Deli. His father suggested that he go back to school, but Theo thought otherwise. Judge Gantry needed him, he explained. He was under strict orders from the court to stay close to the courtroom, just in case Bobby decided to check in. “No chance of that,” Ike said, chewing on a world-famous pastrami sandwich.

  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