“Yes,” Ryan answered, his tone quiet.
“I represent people accused of crimes. My job is to represent my clients fully and zealously, to the best of my ability. I don’t involve myself with their guilt or innocence. I don’t even ask my clients if they’re guilty. You understand?”
“Not really.” Ryan frowned. “Doesn’t it matter to you if they’re guilty or not?”
Listening, Jake felt secretly proud of his son. Ryan didn’t understand because he expected the law to lead to justice, not thwart it.
Hubbard nodded, acknowledging the question. “It doesn’t matter to me because I’m not the judge. I’m the defense lawyer. My job is to represent you. I make sure that you have the array of protections the law affords you. The Commonwealth has a lot of resources at its disposal that you’ll never have, no matter who your father is. Or your mother.”
Ryan blinked, and so did Jake, both of them getting the message. Hubbard was telling them he knew who Pam was, and he had probably already guessed that they had called him about the hit-and-run on Pike Road. And Hubbard’s subliminal message—whether Ryan was getting it or not, Jake couldn’t tell—was that he distinctly did not want to be told who was driving the car that night, so he could maintain deniability. In fact, Jake realized that Hubbard could be assuming Ryan was alone in the car.
Hubbard turned and faced Jake, his eyes small and dark blue behind his glasses. “Now, would you like to fill me in?”
“Certainly.” Jake chose his words carefully. “To make a long story short, we left the scene of a car accident, without calling the police or 911, after we had ascertained that the pedestrian was dead and unresponsive to CPR. We were wondering what our legal obligation was, at this point.”
“Are you asking me if you have a legal obligation to turn yourselves in?”
“Yes.”
“No, you do not. You have no such legal obligation.”
“I see.” Jake shot Ryan a glance. He had guessed correctly that there was no legal obligation, only a moral one, which paradoxically, wasn’t the same thing.
“As your lawyer, I would be under no obligation to counsel you to go to the police. My sole inquiry would be, what can I do for you, legally. I would begin by asking if you had an alibi—”
Ryan interrupted, “But what if we wanted to go to the police and tell them everything? What would the police do? Can we explain what happened?”
“Ryan—” Jake started to say, but Hubbard waved him off.
“Ryan, that’s a good question. I’m happy to answer it. You’re always free to go to the police. But, if that was something that you both decided you wanted to do, I would make sure that before you did it, we arranged a plea bargain.” Hubbard spoke slowly, without judgment. “Let me explain what a plea bargain would be in this case. Under 75 Pennsylvania Code Section 3744, an adult who strikes and kills someone with a car, and does not remain at the scene, call the police, and give information, is guilty of vehicular homicide and leaving the scene of an accident. That’s a felony of the second degree, carrying a five-year prison sentence—”
“It wasn’t an adult who killed someone, it was me,” Ryan interrupted again, and Hubbard pursed his lips in his dense beard.
Jake felt his heart sink, but he didn’t want to upset Ryan by telling him that he’d just said the exact wrong thing. “Ryan, let Mr. Hubbard continue, then you can ask questions later.”
Hubbard nodded. “Ryan, let me finish. I think I’ll be answering your question.”
“Dad, no.” Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want him to think you did anything wrong. You were just in the car. I want him to know I was driving and I was the one who hit her.”
“It’s okay, buddy.” Jake turned to Hubbard, and the two men locked eyes, both of them tacitly understanding that Jake’s cover story, in which he was the driver, was now blown. “Mr. Hubbard, you were saying?”
Hubbard relinked his short fingers. “So in the case where the driver is unlicensed and—”
“I have a learner’s permit,” Ryan broke in.
“Okay,” Hubbard continued, “the driver has a learner’s permit. But he’s driving outside of the restricted hours, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Dad is in the passenger seat, presumably having permitted son to drive, correct?”
“Yes,” Ryan answered, but Hubbard turned to Jake.
“Jake, are you aware of the doctrine of negligent entrustment?”
“No,” Jake answered, but he could figure out the gist. “I’m at fault because I let him drive, right?”
“Correct, but it’s more serious than that, in the event of a fatality. It’s criminal.”
Jake swallowed hard. “I didn’t know that.”
“Most people don’t, and I can see that you’ve been more worried about your son’s legal responsibility, than your own.” Hubbard’s expression softened. “I understand, I have a son, myself. You thought of him first.”
“What’s my legal responsibility?” Jake asked, feeling his heartbeat quicken.
“You would be charged with permitting violation of title, in breach of 75 Pennsylvania Code Section 1575, and you would be charged as an accomplice to involuntary manslaughter for negligently entrusting an underage driver to drive. The penalty can be up to five years in prison.”
Ryan gasped. “What? My dad would go to jail? But he didn’t do anything!”
“He would be charged with an F2, a felony of the second degree.”
Jake absorbed the information, momentarily speechless. He had known it was wrong to let Ryan drive, but he never would have expected it had legal implications, much less a prison sentence.
“No!” Ryan started shaking his head, agitated. “Mr. Hubbard, really, my dad just sat there, in the passenger seat! He didn’t do anything wrong!”
Hubbard nodded calmly, in Jake’s direction. “Yes, he did. He let you drive. You’re an underage driver. As such, if your father permits you to drive and you have a fatal accident, your father is legally more culpable than you. He is a person in a position of authority over you and he was supervising you. The law views him as running the show, not you.”
“That’s not fair, I was driving!” Ryan cried out, and Jake reached over and put a hand on his arm.
“Ryan, let him tell us the law and we’ll sort it out later.”
“No!” Ryan shook his head vehemently. “Mr. Hubbard, let me just ask you this, if we went to the police right now, and we told them I was driving and my dad was in the passenger seat, what would they do?”
“Without a plea bargain?”
“Yes, without a plea bargain, if we just went and told them the truth, everything, even that I smoked up before the movie, because that’s why my dad didn’t call the cops. He wanted to call 911, he told me to, but he knew they’d test me. Are you telling me they’d put him in jail?”
“Yes, they would,” Hubbard answered. “To reiterate, your father would be charged with involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to five years in prison. You, as the driver, would probably be charged as a juvenile and enter the juvenile system.”
Jake heard that one glimmer of hope. “So Ryan wouldn’t be tried as an adult?”
“Probably not, if they had you. If he were charged as an adult, which is always possible, I would move to decertify and have him tried as a juvenile. Still I couldn’t guarantee I would prevail. He’s so big and well-spoken. He doesn’t come off like a child. He comes off like an adult.”
“But he’s sixteen. That’s young.”
“It’s in between, these days. He looks like an adult. I call it ‘the falsehood of physicality,’ but it hurts him in court. I know from bitter experience.” Hubbard inhaled briefly. “Let me explain the differences between the juvenile system and the adult system.”
Ryan fell back in his chair, his hand covering his mouth, and Jake said nothing, needing to understand the law.
Hubbard continued, “The purpose of the prison system for an adult is
punishment. But in the juvenile system, the purpose is rehabilitation. If you were to tell the D.A. that Ryan was driving, he would be sent to what is called ‘placement,’ a euphemism for juvenile prison.”
Jake began to understand the implications, with a growing sense of dread. If he and Ryan turned themselves in, they would both be sent to prison. Even if they got some sort of plea deal, they would both serve some length of time in prison. Their legal position was even worse than he’d thought, and he’d thought it was awful.
“Most of these placements are up in the mountains, in facilities like Northwestern or Glen Mills. You, Ryan, would live and go to school there with other juvenile offenders. If you told the D.A. that you were driving under the influence, you would be evaluated and treated for substance abuse.”
Ryan recoiled. “I’m not a drug addict. I barely smoke. You can check it, they test us on the team.”
“Nevertheless, in three to six months, Ryan, your case would be reviewed. You would go before a judge, and you would have to show that you’re making good progress. You could conceivably be free in two years, but the system retains supervision of you until age twenty-one. You will have a criminal record.”
Jake tried to imagine the implications. Ryan’s life would be ruined, and Pam would be devastated. She couldn’t even deal with Ryan going to college, how would she deal with him going to prison? She would lose them both at once. She would never forgive Jake for ruining Ryan’s life and for destroying their family. She would divorce him. She would step down from the bench.
Hubbard raised his finger again. “One last point. The DUI. Even if they tested Ryan’s blood for marijuana, or THC metabolites, the D.A. couldn’t prove that he was under the influence at the time of the accident, or that his level was above the statutory minimum, which is .5 nanograms per liter of blood. The DUI charge drops out, which reduces the sentence from ten years to five.”
Jake tried to understand what he was being told. “So by leaving the scene, we evaded the DUI charge.”
“Correct, but they’ll offer you a worse deal. You don’t win, either way. I would advise you, in the strongest possible terms, to enter into a plea deal.” Hubbard glanced at Ryan, who looked numb with shock, pressed back in his chair, his eyes glistening. “If you decide to turn yourself in, that is.”
“What is the best deal you could get us, if we were to turn ourselves in?” Jake asked, reaching out to touch Ryan’s arm.
“The best, I think, is four years for you, and two for your son, with him sentenced as a juvenile.”
“So Ryan would be considered a juvenile?”
“If he goes in with you, there’s a better chance. If he goes in alone, probably not.”
Jake didn’t try to process the information, just to gather more. “Who makes the decision about whether he’s tried as a juvenile or as an adult?”
“The first assistant district attorney, usually. In this case, given the circumstances, the D.A. may weigh in, too.”
“Which way does that cut?”
“My sense is, against you. They would want to avoid any appearance of favoritism.”
“And if I went to the police alone, without Ryan, saying that I was the driver?”
“No, Dad!” Ryan blurted out, stricken. “You can’t, I won’t let you. I’ll go, I’ll call them, I’ll tell them the truth. You won’t be able to stop me. I’ll tell them you lied and I was driving.”
Hubbard answered as if Ryan hadn’t spoken, “Mr. Buckman, your going in alone may not be tenable, if Ryan isn’t going to let you, and in that event, I can’t represent you. I can’t suborn perjury, that is, I can’t ethically sit there and remain quiet while I know you’re lying to the court.”
“Understood.” Jake was about to ask his last question, but Ryan leaned over across the table to Hubbard.
“Mr. Hubbard, what if I went to the police, and let’s say, like, I told them that I borrowed my dad’s car and took it out by myself? In other words, like, that I was alone in the car, and I hit Kathleen. My dad wasn’t in the picture at all. What would they do?”
Jake recoiled, looking over at Ryan. “I wouldn’t let you do that in a million years.”
Hubbard glanced from father to son. “Ryan, your father would have to support the story, and it looks as if he wouldn’t support your story, just as you wouldn’t support his—”
“I absolutely wouldn’t,” Jake shot back. “It wouldn’t work anyway, not with the facts.”
Ryan groaned. “Why not, Dad?”
“Son, the timing wouldn’t work, and the police would be able to figure that out. The accident happened after I picked you up from the movie, which you went to with your friends. The police could figure out that there wasn’t enough time for us to get home and for you to go back out again.”
“But how would the police even know I was with my friends?”
“They’d investigate, Ryan—”
“Even after I go in and tell them what happened?”
“Of course, they don’t just take your word for it.”
Ryan turned to Hubbard for verification. “Is that right? Would the police go talk to my friends, even after I say what happened?”
“Yes, they would.”
“Ugh!” Ryan smacked the table, in frustration.
Jake had a final question, so he addressed Hubbard. “One last thing, of a more practical nature.”
“Certainly.” Hubbard nodded.
“If we didn’t turn ourselves in, what are the odds?”
“What are the odds that you’d get away with it?”
Jake winced at his bluntness. “Yes.”
“I can’t counsel wrongdoing, and I’m not, and I cannot advise you or help you make a decision. I’ll tell you the relevant facts so you can make your own decision. Do you understand the distinction?”
“Yes.”
“The police in this county investigate thoroughly. They have accident-reconstruction specialists work up the scene, check for debris and tire marks, and physical evidence, like DNA.”
Jake felt relieved that Hubbard didn’t go into gory detail, because he could see Ryan fidget in his chair.
“They also knock on doors, talk to the local businesses, check local body shops and auto parts stores. I don’t know if you read the case, but a man was arrested in Upper Darby last week for a hit-and-run, eight months after the fact. Delaware County police tracked him down via a headlamp he ordered to repair the Toyota 4Runner he was driving when he struck the victim.”
Jake didn’t interrupt him, running over a grim checklist in his mind. Burned parka, check. Crashed car, check.
“They also visit local hospitals and doctors. They examine red-light and convenience-store tapes. They post it online and solicit tips. Tips are a major factor in hit-and-runs. In all crime, really. People have a tendency to tell their friends.”
Jake didn’t dare look over at Ryan.
“These things happen rarely in this township, and the local police have expertise, but not experience, unlike places like Coatesville.”
Hubbard paused, in thought. “In addition, it was raining last night, and water on the road prevents skidmarks from forming. Also the accident scene is out of the way. There are no street cameras in its vicinity, only in the corporate center.”
Jake hadn’t told Hubbard that the accident happened on Pike Road, but nobody was kidding anybody at this point.
“By the way, the statute of limitations on leaving the scene is seven years.”
Jake blinked, surprised. “I assumed there was no statute of limitations.”
“No, that’s only for murder. This would be manslaughter, not murder. Do you have any other questions?”
“No, thanks.” Jake understood. Hubbard was telling them that the odds were they wouldn’t get caught.
“No, thank you,” Ryan answered miserably, looking up.
“Well then.” Hubbard pushed back his chair and rose. “I’m sorry for your trouble. Please feel free to ca
ll me.”
“Will do, and please do bill me for this time.” Jake began to stand up, but Hubbard waved him back into his seat, heading for the door.
“Please, stay here. I can show myself out. There’s no charge for a consultation. Best of luck to you both.”
“Thanks.” Jake eased down into the chair and patted Ryan’s hand, after Hubbard left the conference room. “You okay?”
Ryan hung his head, then looked up with anguished eyes. “I don’t want you to go to jail.”
“I’m not going to jail.”
“But you would, if we go to the police.” Ryan rubbed his face, leaving a welt on his fair skin. “I never should have asked to drive. I never thought anything like this could happen.”
“Neither did I.” Jake got up, went to Ryan, put his arms around him, and gave him a long hug, then held on, as if to support them both. “It’s on me. I’m the adult, like he said. I ran the show, not you.”
“But you didn’t know about the weed. I should’nt’ve had the weed.” They clung to each other, sad and resigned. “I hardly ever smoke, I swear, Dad.”
“I know. It really is my fault, not yours.” Jake gave him a final hug, then released him. “I took it too lightly. I didn’t think it through. I underestimated the downside risk.”
“What?” Ryan looked at him, bewildered, and Jake straightened, standing in the conference room as he had so many times before, explaining to his clients.
“It means that whenever you do something, you have to understand that the worst-case scenario happens, even to good people.” Jake hoped Ryan accepted that explanation, even as he realized that that was only part of what had gone wrong. He’d wanted to be Fun Dad, so he hadn’t said no. He’d wanted to be closer to his son, so he’d been a buddy, not a parent. It was a mistake he would regret the rest of his life.
Ryan rose slowly. “At least we know what to do. I never would’ve thought you’d have to go to jail, I thought it was just me. If I go forward and turn myself in, they’ll get you.” He met Jake’s gaze directly. “So I won’t turn myself in. I won’t say a word. I’ll shut up.”