“So Rita asked what kind of accident. And the sheriff told her that Coach Johnson had been found murdered.
“Rita gasped, and tears filled up her eyes. I thought she was going to pass out, so I took hold of her. But she shook me off and glared back at the sheriff and told him to stay right where he was unless he had a search warrant. He said he was waiting on one right now, and she said he would just have to wait then, wouldn’t he.
“Then she slammed the door right in Sheriff Wells’s face and told me to go and check on Jeremy while she kept an eye on the police. So I ran to Jer’s room and knocked and hollered and knocked. Only he didn’t come. And I got so scared that I went in anyway.” I stop then because my mind is flashing back to my brother, sitting on the floor, in the corner, in nothing but his boxers, rocking back and forth and staring at the wall as if he were watching a movie, which I suppose he was in a way.
Keller turns to me, and his voice is soft. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Hope, but would you please tell the court what you saw when you entered Jeremy’s room?”
I take a deep breath. “I saw Jeremy, but I’m not sure he saw me. He wouldn’t look at me, so I sat down on the floor with him and tried to hold him. I sat there with him until Sheriff Wells got his warrant and barged into the room.”
“What happened next?”
“They tore up his room. They searched under the bed and took photos of everything, including me and Jeremy. Then they searched his closet.”
“And what did they find in your brother’s closet?”
I know this whole courtroom, except for me, has probably already heard exactly what they found. They’ve probably seen pictures. Maybe they’ve even seen it for themselves. “A bat.”
“Was it a wooden bat?” Keller asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“And even though most of the Panthers use metal bats for the league, what kind of bat did Jeremy own? What kind of bat had Coach given him?”
“A Louisville Slugger.”
Keller bows his head. “Metal or wooden?”
“Wooden,” I admit.
Keller is silent for at least a minute, probably letting that answer soak in. I wish I knew if the jurors were picturing everything in their heads the way I am. I hope not.
“Hope,” Keller asks at last, “do you love your brother?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, looking directly at Jeremy now. He gazes up at me, the touch of a grin on his bony face. “I love Jeremy more than anybody in the whole world.”
“I’ll bet you’d do just about anything for him, wouldn’t you?”
I lock gazes with Jeremy and will him to take this in. “I would do anything in the world for my brother. He’s the most important thing in my life.”
“I can see that,” Keller says, like he understands. “Let’s go back to your earlier testimony, if you don’t mind.”
I’m grateful to go back, to go anywhere that’s not June eleventh.
“When did Jeremy start collecting jars? Can you remember?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe when he was nine.”
“And were you upset by your brother’s troubling hobby?”
“I wasn’t, but Rita was. If I missed a jar under his bed, it could smell up the whole room pretty quick.”
Keller wrinkles his nose as if he can smell sour mustard right now. “Empty jars… You have to admit it’s a pretty unusual hobby.”
“No. I don’t admit that at all. People collect all sorts of things.”
“Like…?”
“Like stamps and spoons and bells, for example. Like sea glass.” I finger my necklace. I made it out of a tiny, smooth piece of glass T.J. gave me two years ago.
“True,” Keller mutters, agreeing with me.
“Or even Barbie dolls. People pay hundreds of dollars for old Barbies, don’t they? If you ask me, I’d say that’s crazy.”
Keller laughs a little, and so do a couple of the jurors. I’m thinking my testimony today is going better than it did yesterday.
“What do you admire most about your brother, Hope?”
I can’t believe it’s the prosecution asking me this. Raymond should have asked this a long time ago. “A lot of things.” I smile at Jeremy. He’s smiling back at me, and I see the old Jeremy peeking out. “My brother is the kindest person I know. He loves the little things, like watching ants carry bits of food on a trail, or hearing people laugh, or seeing the sun go down every single evening. He gets excited when an acorn falls from a branch and lands at his feet, or a leaf spins in the air. He calls them God-gifts. That’s what he writes on his pad for me when he sees a butterfly or a deer, or whenever he makes out a cool shape in a sky full of clouds.”
“Jeremy dropped out of school in the eighth grade, didn’t he?” Keller asks.
“That was more Rita’s doing than Jeremy’s. Jer never caused any trouble, except with teachers who were too lazy to read his writing instead of getting the answers out of his mouth. Have you seen Jeremy’s handwriting?”
“No, I haven’t,” Keller says, as if he’d really like to.
“It’s beautiful. Jer’s own brand of calligraphy.”
“Why do you think your brother can’t talk, Hope?”
“He can talk. I know because I heard him when we were younger. He just stopped one day. That’s all. But he doesn’t really need to talk because he communicates just fine-with his notes and his gestures. Jeremy can say more with his eyes than most people can in a whole speech.”
Keller laughs. “I know exactly what you mean. We lawyers hear a lot of those speeches. We even give a few ourselves.” He gets some chuckles from the spectators. “Do you have anything else you want to tell us about your brother, Hope, before I let you go?”
Raymond was wrong about this guy. I think Keller gets Jeremy. Maybe he should have been Jeremy’s lawyer. “Thanks,” I tell him. “There are a lot of things I could tell you about my brother. Jeremy is trustworthy. He took good care of the team equipment. And he was so responsible at the stable-he never missed a day of work or complained about the messiest stalls or anything. He has a sense of humor, and… and he loves me. I’d do anything for Jer, and he’d do anything for me. I know that.”
Keller smiles at me. “Sounds like a normal brother to me.” He turns from me and repeats this to the jury. “Absolutely and completely normal.”
And that’s when I see what he’s done. What I’ve done. What I’ve done to Jeremy. “No! Wait! I didn’t mean-!”
“I have no more questions for the witness, Your Honor.”
“But-!”
“You may step down now, Miss Long,” says the judge. “The court will take a short recess.” She bangs her gavel. All I can think is that it sounds like a hammer, the hammer that nails Jeremy’s coffin shut.
And it’s all my fault.
10
I don’t know how long I sit in the witness chair while the courtroom clears. Finally, T.J. comes up and gets me. He leads me through the courtroom. The second we step into the hallway, reporters start shouting my name: “Hope, over here, honey!” “Ms. Long!”
I stare at them, their faces blurred, their words nothing more than static. I don’t know whether to run through the mob or find a corner and curl myself into it and rock like Jeremy did that morning.
T.J. jerks me back into the courtroom and slams the doors shut. “There’s got to be another way out of here.” He glances at the little door that swallows my brother every day when he leaves the courtroom. “Besides that one,” T.J. mutters.
Together, as if somebody’s pointing a gun at us, we back farther into the courtroom. T.J.’s head swivels in every direction. Then he shouts, “Chase!” He’s staring up into the gallery. I look too and see Chase, still sitting in his balcony seat. “You know another way out of here?” T.J. hollers up.
For a second, Chase doesn’t answer. Then he pushes himself out of his seat, and I think he’s going to leave without answering T.J. Slowly, he points to the side stairs that lead to the gallery.
T.J. takes my hand, and we climb to where Chase is, in the small balcony area, where it’s even hotter and stickier than the witness stand. The gallery smells like sweat, smoke, and furniture polish.