“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