Theodore Boone: The Scandal (11 page)

“Can’t think of anything, no, sir.”

“Theo?”

“Yes, sir.” Theo stood with his legal pad.

“You can keep your seat, Theo.”

“I know, Your Honor, but I need to stretch my legs.” In truth, Theo preferred to stand and perhaps pace a little, just like the great trial lawyers he’d watched over the years. In real court, the lawyers always stood when addressing the judge or the jury, or when they were questioning witnesses.

Judge Yeck nodded and smiled. Theo began: “Judge, it looks like we’re dealing with the laws of the jungle here. What if a raccoon lived in a tree on the Kerr property, and one day discovered these beautiful fish in Mr. Murray’s water garden? You can’t blame the raccoon for doing what he’s supposed to do—find food. And you can’t blame Mr. Kerr for something the raccoon does. Same for foxes, cats, blue herons, beavers—the woods are full of predators. Same for otters. They’ve lived around here forever, I suppose. This is their natural habitat. They have the right to come and go as they please and eat whatever they can find. These koi, on the other hand, are not native to this area. They come all the way from Japan. Who belongs here? I guess all the animals do, but in nature some animals prey on others. We can’t change that. They have to eat, don’t they? What’s Mr. Kerr supposed to do? Catch the otter and keep him in a cage? That’s not natural. Otto would probably die.”

“Let’s hope so,” Mr. Murray interrupted.

“Hang on,” Judge Yeck said, frowning at Mr. Murray.

Theo kept going: “My point is, Your Honor, Otto is not a domestic pet. He sleeps in the wild, roams at night, and eats whatever he can find. My client has no control over what this animal does. And, Your Honor, I don’t have to remind the court that it’s not against the law for otters to eat fish wherever they can find them.”

Theo sat down and Judge Yeck said, “Good point, Theo, but I’m really bothered by the video. The proof seems pretty clear.”

“Can I shoot him, Judge?” Mr. Murray blurted.

“Who? Otto or Theo?”

“That damned otter. Oh, sorry. That stinking otter.”

“No, you cannot. Discharging a firearm within the city limits is against the law.”

“Okay, then can I poison him?”

Judge Yeck thought for a second and said, “Yes, you can. The law says you cannot kill a dog, cat, horse, pig, lamb, goat, deer, bear, eagle, hawk, or an owl. It says nothing about otters.”

“Don’t forget beavers,” Theo added helpfully.

“Right, and for some reason, beavers.”

“Good,” Mr. Murray said smugly. “Then, if Mr. Kerr will not take care of the otter, I’ll get some poison and handle things myself.”

Judge Yeck looked at Mr. Kerr and asked, “Are you familiar with the Wildlife Center over in Waynesburg?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s a refuge for wild animals that have been caught or need to be restrained for some time. I’ve ordered several animals to be sent over there, and the folks do a good job. I suggest you take Otto there, let the staff keep him for a few weeks while they find a place to relocate him. Somewhere far away.”

“I guess we could do that,” Mr. Kerr said.

“What about my dead fish?” Mr. Murray asked. “That otter ate about twenty of them and they cost forty bucks each.”

Theo said, “Well, Your Honor, the proof shows that Otto ate only three of the fish. There’s no proof that he ate the others. Could’ve been a raccoon or a fox.”

“I doubt it,” Judge Yeck said. “On the video he looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’ll reduce it a little, but I’m ordering your client to pay five hundred dollars in damages.”

“That sounds like a lot,” Mr. Kerr said.

“Well, keep in mind, Mr. Kerr, that I could send Animal Control out there tomorrow and have the otter caught and put to sleep.”

Mr. Kerr fell silent, and Theo had nothing else to say. Mr. Murray shrugged as if he was okay with the ruling. Judge Yeck said, “So ordered. Five hundred in damages and take the otter to the Wildlife Center. Anything else? Good. Court’s adjourned.”

They filed out of the courtroom and walked outside. Theo followed Byron and Mr. Kerr to their truck. Sitting in the cab was Byron’s older brother, Billy, and Otto, who was asleep behind the steering wheel.

Byron said, “Thanks, Theo, you did the best you could.”

Mr. Kerr said, “Nice job, Theo. You’re gonna make a fine lawyer someday. Do I owe you anything?”

“No, sir. I can’t charge fees yet. I’m only thirteen.”

“Thanks, son.”

Theo watched them drive away. It wasn’t a good win, but then it wasn’t a bad loss either. Neither side was satisfied with the outcome, so, as Judge Gantry often said, justice prevailed.

T
he offices of Boone & Boone were usually deserted by six p.m. Elsa left every day at five on the dot, with few exceptions. Vince and Dorothy, the two paralegals, soon followed. Mr. Boone was known to ease out even earlier, often under the guise of “running by the courthouse,” which everyone knew was an excuse to meet his buddies for a drink. Mrs. Boone was always the last to leave, but it was unusual for her to be there until six.

After leaving Animal Court, Theo rode his bike to the office and was surprised that everyone was still there. All the lights were on. A big meeting of some sort was taking place in the conference room. He tiptoed down the hallway and tried to eavesdrop through the door, but couldn’t hear much. Elsa, Vince, and Dorothy were in the meeting, along with his parents, who never worked together on a case. Theo could not remember such a gathering. He went back to his office and finished his homework, most of which he’d completed during his extra study hall.

Vince tapped on his door and stepped in. “Say, Theo, your mother wants to see you in the conference room.”

What have I done now, Theo wondered. “What’s going on in there?” he asked.

“We’re meeting with the five schoolteachers. They’ve hired the firm to represent them.”

“All five?”

“Yep.”

“That’s unusual in a criminal case, isn’t it?”

“Very. They plan to stick together while we try to get the charges dismissed. If that doesn’t happen, then they’ll be forced to hire separate lawyers.”

“Okay. Why does my mother want me in the conference room?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Theo followed Vince to the conference room, where everyone was sitting around the long table and waiting for him. His mother, in charge, of course, stood and said, “Theo, our firm is representing these five teachers from East Middle School.” She introduced each of the five. Theo just stood at one end of the table and nodded. This is weird, he thought. What am I doing here?

Mr. Paul London stood and said, “Theo, we have something we would like to say to you. We are completely to blame for this scandal, and we accept responsibility. We changed the test scores for a number of our eighth graders, and this enabled them to qualify for the Honors track next year at Strattenburg High. We had our reasons for doing so, but our reasons are not good enough. We offer no excuses. Our actions unfairly helped some of our students and unfairly harmed those at other schools. Including you. If we had not cheated on behalf of our kids, there is an excellent chance you would have made Honors. We feel terrible about this, and we offer you our sincere apology.”

Theo thought the poor guy was going to cry. It was obvious he felt far worse about the cheating than Theo did. The other teachers were staring at him with sad, mournful eyes.

Theo had been taught to accept an apology as soon as it was offered. Shake hands. Forget about it, and move on. He said, “Sure, Mr. London, I accept your apology. I just hope you guys are not punished too severely.”

“We’ll survive. We have a good lawyer.”

“I’m gonna be okay, too,” Theo said. “Whatever happens. I just don’t want to take those tests again.” Everyone laughed, and the humor cut the tension. Theo was excused and walked back to his office.

Thursday dinner was always at the same Turkish café, usually at the same table. Omar owned the place and greeted them warmly each week. Menus were not needed because they had the same red pepper hummus with pita bread, followed by the same roasted chicken. Mr. Boone once made the mistake of having a cup of Omar’s Turkish coffee with dessert, and he didn’t sleep for three days. Now, they drank only water. Theo enjoyed the place but often grew tired of Omar’s constant interruptions. While his son ran the kitchen, Omar worked the front and felt like it was his business to engage his customers with nonstop chatting. He was also known to eavesdrop on conversations.

In low voices, the Boones tried to talk about the cheating scandal, but Omar was lurking nearby. They changed subjects and tried to talk about Ike and his latest problem, but Omar was too close. So they talked about an upcoming camping trip Troop 1440 was planning.

Theo didn’t mind the five days of extra study hall punishment handed down by Mrs. Gladwell, but the month of no golf was painful. On Saturday morning, he sat at the kitchen table and tried to look as pitiful as possible as his father went about his routine as if life was just perfect. The weather was gorgeous, the golf course was calling, and Theo couldn’t play. Mr. Boone, however, was planning a marvelous outing with three of his buddies.

“Sorry you can’t play today, Theo,” his father said. “But when you skip school you have to take your punishment.”

“Thanks, Dad. I thought we already had this conversation.”

“Just wanted to remind you.”

“I got the message.”

“That’s enough, Woods,” Mrs. Boone said as she drank her coffee.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” Mr. Boone said. “We might play twenty-seven holes.”

And I hope you double-bogey every one of them, Theo almost blurted. But he ate his Cheerios in silence, suffering as much as possible. Even triple-bogey.

After Mr. Boone finally left, his mother asked, “So what are your plans for today, Theo?”

“I need to go find April. She’s not doing too well these days.”

“What’s the problem?”

“She needs some help.”

“Oh, really. What’s going on?”

He hated to break a promise, but he also needed his mother’s advice. Theo told her about Janelle the babysitter, and her sister Binky, and the letter April had sent to Dr. Stoop. He told her everything.

Mrs. Boone listened with great interest, and when Theo finished she said, “Well, I’m not sure April should be blaming herself. From what I know at this point, it looks as though the scandal was going to be discovered anyway. The test results looked suspicious, and the school board was investigating.”

“That’s what I keep telling her.”

“So you knew the names of two of the teachers from the beginning?”

“I guess. I knew what April told me. I’m not sure I believed her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I promised April I would never tell. I can keep a secret, Mom, but sometimes when you’re just a kid the secret gets too big and you need help. Right now I’m worried about April. Plus, you’re a lawyer and you know how important it is to keep the secrets of your clients.”

“April is not your client.”

“She thinks she is.”

“And you’re not a lawyer.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to get in the middle of all this.”

“She should not send the second letter, Theo. That will just make her life more complicated.”

“I know. I’ve told her. But she can be very stubborn.”

“I suggest you have another chat with April and make sure she does not send another letter.”

“Okay. That’s what I’ll do. I didn’t want to play golf anyway.”

T
he Sunday newspaper ran a long article about the scandal and the problems it was causing. The criminal charges added a new layer of intrigue to the story, and the chance that the teachers might go to jail seemed to bother a lot of people. It certainly bothered their lawyer, and Mrs. Boone’s photo was on page two. She declined to discuss the case with the reporter, saying it was her professional responsibility to stay quiet and fight the charges in court, not in the press. This was unusual, Theo thought. Nowadays it seemed as though lawyers couldn’t wait to jump in front of cameras and chat with reporters. He admired his mother for staying out of the limelight. Dr. Carmen Stoop likewise had little to say. She took the position that the matter was now headed for court, and until things were resolved there she would stay quiet. Jack Hogan, the prosecutor, was notorious for saying little to the press, but based on the tone of the article, he was taking some heat for pursuing the teachers in criminal court.

Mrs. Boone had filed a thick motion demanding that the charges be dismissed. Judge Henry Gantry had decided to grant her wish for a speedy hearing and scheduled one for the following Thursday. Mrs. Boone had not mentioned the hearing to Theo, probably because she suspected he would immediately start scheming of ways to get into the courtroom.

And she was right. He started right then, on Sunday morning as he read the newspaper. He said nothing to his parents, but the wheels were already turning. How could he, Theo Boone, the only kid lawyer in Strattenburg, miss such an important event? It was unthinkable. He almost choked on his Cheerios when he hatched the idea that he could be considered one of the victims of the scandal; thus, he would need to be in the courtroom.

What a great idea.

Without complaining, he showered and dressed for church. He sat through the worship service with a smile on his face and didn’t hear a word the pastor said. Over lunch with his parents, he chatted about his next debate and his next camping trip, never once mentioning the scandal or anything related to it. Sunday afternoon he met April at Guff’s and finally convinced her not to send any more letters. One was enough.

First thing Monday morning, he cornered Mr. Mount after homeroom and laid out his plan. The hearing in Judge Gantry’s courtroom would be the perfect place for another field trip, for Mr. Mount’s class to observe the judicial process in action.

Mr. Mount was not so sure but said he’d think about it.

Late Monday afternoon, Theo stopped by Ike’s office. Parked outside was a brand-new bicycle, a ten speed with a helmet strapped to the seat. Ike said, “They took away my car keys for six months so I’m biking it now. I need the exercise.” He was drinking coffee from a paper cup and looked fresh, even bright-eyed.

“I’ve stopped drinking, Theo. No more booze for me. This DUI has taught me a valuable lesson, and I’m sobering up.”

“That’s great, Ike. I’m proud of you.”

“Booze is a dead-end street, Theo. Don’t ever start drinking, okay?”

“I’ve managed to avoid the stuff so far.”

“You’re only thirteen. Wait until you get to high school and start driving. That’s when the trouble starts. Promise me you’ll say no when a buddy offers you the first beer.”

Actually, that had already happened. Theo was hanging out at Woody’s house one day when his parents were away. The refrigerator was full of beer, and Woody thought it would be cool to drink a few. Theo declined and left not long afterward.

“I promise, Ike,” he said. “And I’m proud of you.”

“You’re one of the reasons, Theo, to be honest. I was humiliated when my favorite nephew came to the jail to rescue me. I finally realized that enough was enough, and I promised that I would never again put myself in a situation like that. I’m quitting for my own well-being, but I’m also quitting for you. I want to set a better example.”

His voice cracked a little, and his eyes moistened. Theo was not sure what to say.

Theo began his letter that night when he was supposed to be reading a book for English. The first draft began:

Dear Mrs. Gladwell:

As you probably know,
Judge Henry Gantry has scheduled a big hearing this Thursday
at nine a.m. in his courtroom. The five schoolteachers
from East Middle School have been charged with conspiracy and
fraud, and, if convicted, might be sentenced to jail. Their
lawyer, at least for this hearing, is my mother, Marcella
Boone.

I feel as though I have the right to
be in the courtroom to watch this important event. Please
allow me to explain why.

As you know, I plan
to become a lawyer when I grow up. I’ve
spent many hours in courtrooms, especially Judge Gantry’s, and
I’ve watched many trials. I know all the judges
and clerks, and many of the lawyers and policemen. When
my friends are playing soccer or baseball, or off at
summer camp, I’m usually hanging around the courthouse waiting
for a trial to start. I’ve been doing this
for years and I enjoy it a lot. It’s
not only entertaining but very educational. I see lawyers do
things all the time that I know they shouldn’t
do, and there’s nothing more interesting, at least to
me, than to watch a trial with two great lawyers
doing battle. I love their final arguments when they try
to persuade the jury to see things their way. And,
there’s nothing more tense and dramatic than waiting for
a jury to return with its verdict.

You have been
kind enough before to allow Mr. Mount to take us
on field trips to the courthouse to watch trials and
talk to judges. The hearing this Thursday will be the
perfect time to take another field trip.

Over dinner tonight
I discussed this with my parents. They feel as though
I should spend the day in class and not in
the courtroom. I’m still working on them, but things
do not look too good on that front.

There’s
another reason I should be in the courtroom. The five
teachers are charged with committing crimes, though, personally, I think
this is wrong. Anyway, a crime means there is a
victim, and the victim is always expected to be in
court. I’ve seen many victims testify and point fingers
at the defendants. I’ve seen many victims sit in
the front row for days as the witnesses tell their
stories.

In this case, the teachers are accused of cheating,
and there is a good chance their cheating harmed a
group of eighth graders who failed to score high enough
on the standardized tests to make Honors. Some of us
at Strattenburg Middle, and others at Central Middle, were probably
excluded from the Honors program because of the cheating. At
this point we don’t know this for a fact,
but it looks likely.

I don’t know the names
of the other students who are in the same boat
with me. And I assume that most of them have
no interest in watching the hearing. But, since I’m
sort of a victim, I think it’s important to
attend the hearing. Also, since my mother is so involved,
there is probably no other victim who knows as much
about the case. In fact, I know a lot of
things I shouldn’t know.

There’s another reason that
you probably won’t care about. If I am forced
to attend class on Thursday, and miss this important hearing,
then I will be completely useless at school. The day
will be a waste for me because my mind will
be in the courtroom.

I realize you’re probably still
ticked off at me for skipping school the other day
and I’m still very sorry about that. I promise
it will never happen again.

Please, Mrs. Gladwell, please allow
Mr. Mount’s class to take another field trip and
watch the hearing on Thursday.

Sincerely,
Theo Boone

The more he wrote the better it sounded, and at midnight he was still pecking away on his laptop. The “victim” angle was pure genius, he thought, and he finally fell asleep filled with confidence that Mrs. Gladwell could not say no.

He wrote the final draft early Tuesday morning, printed it, and folded it into an envelope. He did not mention it to his parents. When he arrived at school, he took it straight to Mrs. Gladwell’s office. He bypassed Miss Gloria because she would ask a dozen questions, and he placed the letter in the center of Mrs. Gladwell’s desk.

During lunch, Mr. Mount found him in the cafeteria and handed him a small envelope. He tore it open and pulled out a handwritten note from Mrs. Gladwell. It read:

Dear Theo: Thanks for the letter but the
answer is no. DG.

Tuesday, after school, Theo and Judge climbed the stairs at Boone & Boone and walked into his father’s office. Mr. Boone was hard at work with a pile of paperwork, his unlit pipe stuck in one corner of his mouth.

“How was school?” he asked.

“Boring. I can’t concentrate these days, not with the big hearing coming up on Thursday and being kicked out of the courtroom and all. It just seems so unfair.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation?”

“I wouldn’t call it a conversation. I’ve brought up the subject a couple of times and you guys just slam the door. I don’t get to say much.”

“Maybe there’s not much to discuss. You’re not missing school to go to court. It’s really quite simple.”

“I plan to boycott my classes on Thursday.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m boycotting. Not skipping. I’ll be in class all right, but I will not listen to the teachers and I will not take part in any discussion. I’ll do the homework because I’ll get in trouble if I don’t do the homework, but I plan to zone out and just sit there ignoring everything.”

“And you call this a boycott?”

“Something like that. I can’t think of a better word.”

“Sounds pretty stupid to me. Just sitting in class like an imbecile while the world goes by.”

“I don’t care. I’m taking a stand. You guys won’t let me go to court. I have to do something to protest.”

“Protest all you want, but if you make bad grades you’ll pay a price.”

“I’ve got straight A’s, Dad. One day of boycotting won’t hurt my grades.”

“Whatever. Don’t you have Scouts today, or are you boycotting that, too?”

“I’m leaving now.”