The Fugitive (Theodore Boone 5)

“Yes, sir.”

“To post on YouTube, I presume.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Let’s roll the tape.”

Theo knew the video would be shown, and he was prepared. It was hilarious and he planned to use it anyway. Some humor might soften up Judge Yeck and show that making a fainting goat faint was harmless.

He had loaded the video into his laptop and wired it to a larger screen. He placed it on a folding table near Judge Yeck and hit a button. Everyone in the courtroom squeezed closer to the table.

The video: a fenced-in pen attached to a shed; a herd of eleven smallish goats, some black, some white, all with large bug-like eyes protruding from sockets, and all obviously minding their own business. Suddenly, Evan Lambert jumps from behind a water trough, yelling and clapping his hands, whooping and lunging at the startled and unsuspecting goats; several go stiff-legged and keel over; others go scurrying about as Evan gives chase, still yelping like an maniac, but also laughing. He zeroes in on one of the goats and stalks it until it decides life might be safer if it just faints; down it goes; others get up, baying at one another in chaotic frenzy; Evan continues tormenting them while, from behind the camera, Woody can be heard laughing uncontrollably.

It was indeed funny, and most of the people in the courtroom could not contain their laughter. In particular, Woody, Evan, Chase, Aaron, and Brandon were in stitches. Theo, the lawyer, managed to watch it with a straight face, partly because he had already seen it many times. Judge Yeck was amused. Mr. Tweel was not.

The video: During a lull in the action, the goats—all standing now—bunch together as if looking for safety while Evan fishes something out of his pocket. The firecracker. He grins at the camera, lights the firecracker, tosses it near the herd of rattled goats; sounds like a cannon, and all eleven hit the ground, their short little legs stiff as poles. Evan doubles over in a fit of laughter. Woody is heard roaring again.

End of video.

Everyone inched back to their seats. Judge Yeck waited for quiet and took a deep breath. Finally, “Proceed, Mr. Boone.”

“I would like for Evan Lambert to make a statement,” Theo said.

“Very well.”

Evan sat up straight and cleared his throat. He was fifteen but no taller than his younger brother. All humor had vanished and Evan was unsure of himself. He said, “Well, Judge, like Theo said, we shouldn’t have been there. It was my idea. I saw a YouTube video last week, and so Woody and I started looking for fainting goats. We looked in the Yellow Pages and found goat farms, then we found Mr. Tweel’s place. All we wanted to do was see if the goats would really faint. You know how it is—you can’t believe everything you see on the Internet, and so we were just having some fun. That’s all.”

“Did you post the video?” Judge Yeck asked.

“No, sir. Mr. Tweel said he would shoot us if we did.”

“And I will!” Mr. Tweel growled from twenty feet away.

“Enough of that,” Judge Yeck said. “Theo.”

“Yes, sir, and I’d like for my client Woody Lambert to make a statement.”

Woody was cockier than his big brother and was really not remorseful. Theo had cautioned him that any brash talk would hurt their cause. Act like you’re sorry, Theo had warned him more than once.

Woody began, “Well, sure, we’re real sorry about this. We didn’t intend to hurt anybody, or any goat. Did you know, Judge, that they have a fainting goat festival every year down in Tennessee? I swear. Folks take their goats to the festival and for three days make ’em faint. I think they even give prizes. So what we did was not that bad. But, I agree, we were wrong.”

“What about Becky?” the judge asked.

“Who?”

“The dead goat.”

“Oh, that one,” Woody replied. “Look, Judge, when we left there, after a long talk with Mr. Tweel, all his goats were fine. We didn’t kill one. If one died later, I don’t see how you can blame that on us.”

“You gave her a heart attack,” Mr. Tweel said. “Just as sure as I’m sitting here.”

Theo said, “But there’s no way to prove that, Judge, short of an autopsy. That’s the only way to prove what caused her death.”

“You want to do an autopsy on a goat?” Judge Yeck asked, his eyebrows arched as high as possible.

“No, I didn’t say that, Judge. That would cost more than she’s worth.”

Judge Yeck scratched his stubble and seemed to be deep in thought. After a pause he said, “You have to admit, Theo, that it looks pretty suspicious. The goats were fine until a firecracker went off and shocked them to the ground.”

“They just fainted, Judge, then, they got back to their feet and forgot about it.”

“How do you know they forgot about it?”

“Uh, well, I guess I really don’t.”

“Be careful what you say, Theo,” Judge Yeck lectured. “Lawyers have a way of overstating their case.”

“Sorry, Judge, but it’s going overboard to accuse my clients of killing a goat. Under our statutes killing a farm animal is a felony that carries a punishment of up to five years in jail. Do you really think Woody and Evan deserve five years in jail?”

Woody glared at him as if to say, “Why’d you bring that up?”

Evan looked at him as if to say, “Way to go, super lawyer.”

Judge Yeck looked at Mr. Tweel and asked, “Do you want these boys to go to jail?”

Mr. Tweel shot back, “Wouldn’t bother me.”

Judge Yeck looked at the Lambert brothers and asked, “Do your parents know about this?”

Both shook their heads emphatically. No. Evan said, “We’d like to keep this away from our parents. They have enough problems.”

Judge Yeck scribbled some notes on a legal pad. The courtroom was silent as everyone took a deep breath. Since Theo had been there many times, he knew the judge was looking for a compromise, and that he might appreciate some help. He said, “J

udge, if you don’t mind, may I offer a suggestion?”

“Sure, Theo.”

“Well, it’s a bit extreme to talk about jail time. My clients are in school, and throwing them in jail doesn’t help anything. And since their parents are not involved and they don’t have any money to pay a fine, for trespassing, perhaps they could be sentenced to a few hours of labor on Mr. Tweel’s farm.”

Mr. Tweel blurted, “I don’t want ’em on my farm. My goats’ll never be the same.”

Theo looked at Woody, and, as instructed, he stood and said, “Mr. Tweel, my brother and I are very sorry for what happened. We were wrong to go onto your property, and we realize we’re guilty of trespassing. We were just having some fun and didn’t mean to do any harm. We apologize and we’d like to do whatever you want to make things right.”

Sincere apologies went a long way in Judge Yeck’s courtroom.

Mr. Tweel was really a nice man with a big heart. How could you raise fainting goats and not have a lighthearted view of the world? But he kept a grim face and stared at the floor. Woody sat down.

Judge Yeck looked at Mr. Tweel and asked, “How big is your farm?”

“Two hundred acres.”

“Well, I was raised on a farm, and I know that there’s always brush to be cleared and firewood to be cut. Surely you can find some hard labor for these boys, something far away from the goat pen.”

Mr. Tweel began nodding and almost smiled, as if he just thought of some nasty job on the farm he’d been neglecting for years. He said, “I suppose so.”

Judge Yeck said, “So here’s what we’ll do. I find both of you guilty of trespassing, but there will be no record of your conviction. Since you have no money I will not order you to pay a fine. Your sentence will be twenty hours of labor, each, on Mr. Tweel’s farm over the next month. If you fail to show up or fail to do what he tells you to do, then we’ll meet back here again and I will not be in a good mood. And stay away from the goats. Fair enough, Mr. Tweel?”

“I suppose.”

“Any questions, Theo?”

“No, sir.”

“All right. Next case.”

PART TWO

THE RETRIAL

Chapter 15

Theo awoke on Monday morning to the sounds of thunder and rain hitting his bedroom window. It was dark outside, too dark to be awake, but then he had slept little. He stared at the ceiling, lost in a world of heavy thinking, when he realized something was moving beside his bed. “All right,” he said, and moved over so Judge could crawl into the bed. Judge did not like thunder and felt safer under the covers than under the bed.

How would the bad weather affect the trial? Theo wasn’t sure. It might keep some spectators away, but that was doubtful. The courtroom would be packed. The town had talked of little else since the day Pete Duffy had been captured in DC.