The Fugitive (Theodore Boone 5)

trial. They’re probably still around.”

“Maybe not. They might’ve skipped town when Duffy did. And let’s say they are still here. What do they gain by harming you? You’re just a kid. If they beat you up, how does that help Duffy with his murder trial?”

“I won’t care if I’m beat up.”

“Relax, Theo, you’re worrying too much.”

“Okay, here’s something else to worry about. This is a long shot, but I do think about it. Let’s say Duffy goes to trial, gets convicted of murder, and the jury gives him the death penalty. Then one day they walk him into the death chamber down at Deep Rock Prison, put a needle in his arm, and it’s lights-out. If they execute him, I’ll get some of the blame.”

“Look, Theo, you always say you believe in the law, right?”

“Of course.”

“And the law in this state says that if a person is convicted of capital murder, then that person deserves the death penalty. I don’t agree with that, but it’s the law. Nobody will blame you just because they followed the law.”

Theo swallowed some frozen yogurt and tried to think of something else to worry about. Thinking of nothing, he said, “You don’t believe in the death penalty?”

“No, I think it’s awful. Don’t tell me you want the state to execute people.”

“I don’t know, to be honest. My dad is in favor of capital punishment. My mom agrees with you. They argue about it and I hear both sides. What are you supposed to do with serial killers and terrorists?”

“That’s why we have prisons, to lock up nasty people and keep them away from us.”

“So, if they prove Pete Duffy strangled his wife just to collect a million bucks in life insurance, you think he should be sent to prison for the rest of his life?”

“Yes. What do you think they should do with him?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. But if his thugs come after me, then I’m in favor of the death penalty.”

“Relax, Theo. You’re worrying too much.”

“Thanks, April. I always feel better when I talk to you.”

“That’s what friends are for, Theo.”

“And please don’t tell anyone.”

“Stop worrying.”

• • •

Ike wasn’t worried either. He was sipping on a beer and listening to old Motown tunes when Theo and Judge arrived for the mandatory Monday afternoon meeting.

“Any news?” Theo asked. Ike drank and played poker with some old guys, retired judges and policemen, even some shadier types who had never been caught by the police and had never faced judges. He took great pride in collecting the gossip.

“There’s a rumor that Duffy will not fight extradition. He could be back here in a couple of days. Things are looking bad for the old boy. He’s broke and probably can’t afford to hire Clifford Nance again, probably can’t hire any lawyer with any talent. He lost a million bucks on his bond, and that lovely home out in Waverly Creek is about to be owned by the bank.”

“Who’ll be his lawyer?”

“I have no idea. He’ll find someone, some hungry lawyer looking for a big case. Would you take his case, Theo, if you were a young lawyer in town? You say you want to be a big courtroom lawyer.”

“I don’t think so. He looks pretty guilty.”

“He’s innocent until proven guilty. Lawyers don’t always get to choose their clients, and most criminal defendants are guilty anyway. Someone has to represent him.”

“He’s guilty of escape. That’s ten years right there. Not much a lawyer can do with that.”

“Right. I have a hunch Duffy might want to cut a deal, a plea bargain. He pleads guilty to the murder, avoids a trial, and in return the state agrees not to pursue the death penalty. Happens all the time. He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison, where he belongs, but at least he’ll be alive.”

“How bad is prison, Ike?” Theo asked cautiously. It was a subject that had always been off-limits.

Ike kicked back and put his feet on his desk. He sipped beer from the bottle and thought for a long time. “You could say I got lucky, Theo, because I was not in a terrible prison. They’re all bad, you know, because you’re locked away and forgotten. I lost everything, including my family. My name, respect, profession, self-worth, everything. That’s what you think about when you’re in prison—all the things you take for granted. It was awful, just awful. But, I was not in a place where bad things happened to us. Sure there was some violence, but I never got hurt. I made friends. I met other men who had been there much longer, and they were surviving. We had jobs, got paid, read thousands of books, had access to newspapers and magazines, watched television, sometimes old movies, wrote letters, exercised. The food was terrible but I actually got healthier in prison because I stopped smoking and drinking and jogged every day.” He took another sip and stared at a wall. “The prison Duffy will go to will be much worse, but it will still be something he can survive. If he goes to death row and waits for an execution, he’ll be placed in a cell by himself and locked up there for twenty-three hours a day. Bottom line, Theo, if I were Pete Duffy, I’d beg for a plea bargain and avoid death row. He’ll be alive and that’s worth a lot.”

“Will the state offer him a plea bargain?”

“Don’t know and it’s too early to speculate. Jack Hogan is a very good prosecutor and it’ll be his decision.”

“I really want to watch another trial.”

“Sorry, but you don’t get a vote.”

The phone on Ike’s desk rang and he glanced at the caller ID. “I need to take this.”

Chapter 12

Two days later the big news spread through Strattenburg. Pete Duffy would not fight extradition and was on his way back to town. On the late news Wednesday night, the lead story was the arrival of Mr. Duffy, and a television crew filmed him from a distance as he got out of the backseat of an unmarked car and shuffled through a side door of the jail. He was handcuffed and his ankles were obviously chained together. He wore a cap and sunglasses, and he was surrounded by policemen. It was just a brief glimpse of him, but enough to get Theo excited.

He was watching the news with his parents. It was past his bedtime, but they were ignoring the clock so he could see this breaking story. The reporter said that, according to an unnamed source, Mr. Duffy would make his first appearance in court on Friday.

Theo began scheming of ways to skip school and be in the courtroom.

“How does this make you feel, Theo?” his mother asked.

Theo shrugged and wasn’t sure how he felt.

She said, “If not for you, Duffy would be in South America right now. A free man, and probably free for the rest of his life.”

On the one hand, Theo sort of wished Duffy was down there, but on the other, he was excited to see him back in town and staring at another trial. Theo said, “I know we’re supposed to presume he’s innocent until proven guilty, but that’s kind of hard to do right now. If he were innocent, why did he run away like he did?”

Mrs. Boone said, “It’s difficult because he is guilty of escape and evasion. That’s pretty clear.”

“Ike thinks he’ll try to get a plea bargain,” Theo said.

“I doubt that,” said Mr. Boone, always quick to disagree with Ike. “Why would he agree to accept a life sentence with no chance of ever getting out?”

“To save his neck,” Mrs. Boone said, always quick to disagree with her husband, at least on legal matters. “He’s facing the death penalty, Woods.”

“I know that.”

The reporter walked a few steps and said hello to Jack Hogan, the longtime prosecutor for Stratten County. She asked Mr. Hogan about the details of Duffy’s capture in DC, but Hogan said he could not discuss the matter.

For a second, Theo couldn’t breathe.

Then she asked Hogan about the charges Duffy was facing. Same as last time, he replied. Murder, first of all. And now, obviously, escape. When would Duffy m

ake his first court appearance? That had not yet been determined, Hogan replied, and it was clear he wasn’t saying much. The reporter finally thanked him and signed off.

“Bedtime,” Mrs. Boone said, and Theo trudged up the stairs with his dog at his heels.

Judge had no trouble falling asleep under the bed, but Theo couldn’t keep his eyes closed. At some point in the long, dark night, a brilliant idea came to him. Mr. Mount required a ten-page research paper to be turned in at the end of the semester. Theo would write his about the preliminary matters that take place before a big criminal trial. There were all sorts of important maneuvers in the early stages as the lawyers tried to gain advantage. They argued about bail. They filed motions to change venue, or move the trial to another city. They fought hard over what evidence should or should not be presented to the jury. And so on. Most people were not aware of all the work that went into a trial long before it ever started.

Theo, though, would explain it all in his research paper. And, if Mr. Mount agreed, Theo would need to spend a lot of time in court.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how brilliant it was.

Mr. Mount liked the idea, too. Theo was so excited it was impossible to say no. That was Thursday. On Friday, Theo informed him that he needed to be in court at one fifteen for Pete Duffy’s first appearance since being hauled back to Strattenburg. To be in court on time meant Theo had to be excused from PE class by Mr. Tyler, and study hall by Mr. Mount himself. Theo had to haggle with Mr. Tyler for a few minutes before he gave in. It was, after all, Friday afternoon, and Theo was normally exempt from PE anyway. He had an asthma problem that he used to his advantage whenever necessary.

So, at ten minutes after one, Theo and Ike were sitting in a courtroom that was buzzing with excitement since quite a few other curious folks showed up for a look at Mr. Duffy. Theo recognized most of the clerks and bailiffs. There was the usual collection of bored lawyers who hung around the courtroom, doing little but trying to look important. There were at least three reporters and a few off-duty policemen. At the defendant’s table, Mr. Clifford Nance was chatting with two other lawyers. At the prosecution’s table, Mr. Jack Hogan and his crew were reading some documents that must have been difficult to read, judging by their frowns.

A door opened and two large deputies stepped into the courtroom. Behind them was Pete Duffy, in an orange city jail jumpsuit, his wrists and ankles cuffed and chained. Everyone stopped talking and stared in disbelief. It was really him. Caught! The rich guy with the expensive suits and confident air was now reduced to the status of a lowly inmate in the city jail. The handsome, well-groomed gentleman now looked like a lowlife with badly dyed blond hair and an unshaven face.

The deputies quickly unshackled him. He rubbed his wrists as they led him to a chair at the defendant’s table. Clifford Nance leaned down and said something to him. Duffy looked wildly around the courtroom, startled at the number of people there to observe him. He looked frightened and disoriented, like he couldn’t believe he was back.

In the front row behind the bar, where the spectators sat, Theo caught a glimpse of Omar Cheepe, one of Duffy’s men.