The divorce was no surprise to anyone who knew the Finnemores. April’s father was an eccentric antiques dealer and the drummer for an old rock band that still played in nightclubs and toured for weeks at a time. Her mother raised goats and made goat cheese, which she peddled around town in a converted funeral hearse, painted bright yellow. An ancient spider monkey with gray whiskers rode shotgun and munched on the cheese, which had never sold very well. Mr. Boone had once described the family as “nontraditional,” which Theo took to mean downright weird. Both her parents had been arrested on drug charges, though neither had served time.
“Are you okay?” Theo asked.
“No,” she said. “I hate being here.”
She had an older brother named August and an older sister named March, and both fled the family. August left the day after he graduated from high school. March dropped out at the age of sixteen and left town, leaving April as the only child for her parents to torment. Theo knew all of this because April told him everything. She had to. She needed someone outside of her family to confide in, and Theo was her listener.
“I don’t want to live with either one of them,” she said. It was a terrible thing to say about one’s parents, but Theo understood completely. He despised her parents for the way they treated her. He despised them for the chaos of their lives, for their neglect of April, for their cruelty to her. Theo had a long list of grudges against Mr. and Mrs. Finnemore. He would run away before being forced to live there. He did not know of a single kid in town who’d ever set foot inside the Finnemore home.
The divorce trial was in its third day, and April would soon be called to the witness stand to testify. The judge would ask her the fateful question, “April, which parent do you want to live with?”
And she did not know the answer. She had discussed it for hours with Theo, and she still did not know what to say.
The great question in Theo’s mind was, “Why did either parent want custody of April?” Each had neglected her in so many ways. He had heard many stories, but he had never repeated a single one.
“What are you going to say?” he asked.
“I’m telling the judge that I want to live with my aunt Peg in Denver.”
“I thought she said no.”
“She did.”
“Then you can’t say that.”
“What can I say, Theo?”
“My mother would say that you should choose your mother. I know she’s not your first choice, but you don’t have a first choice.”
“But the judge can do whatever he wants, right?”
“Right. If you were fourteen, you could make a binding decision. At thirteen, the judge will only consider your wishes. According to my mother, this judge almost never awards custody to the father. Play it safe. Go with your mother.”
April wore jeans, hiking boots, and a navy sweater. She rarely dressed like a girl, but her gender was never in doubt. She wiped a tear from her cheek, but managed to keep her composure. “Thanks, Theo,” she said.
“I wish I could stay.”
“And I wish I could go to school.”
They both managed a forced laugh. “I’ll be thinking about you. Be strong.”
“Thanks, Theo.”
His favorite judge was the Honorable Henry Gantry, and he entered the great man’s outer office at twenty minutes after 8:00 a.m.
“Well, good morning, Theo,” Mrs. Hardy said. She was stirring something into her coffee and preparing to begin her work.
“Morning, Mrs. Hardy,” Theo said with a smile.
“And to what do we owe this honor?” she asked. She was not quite as old as Theo’s mother, he guessed, and she was very pretty. She was Theo’s favorite of all the secretaries in the courthouse. His favorite clerk was Jenny over in Family Court.
“I need to see Judge Gantry,” he replied. “Is he in?”
“Well, yes, but he’s very busy.”
“Please. It’ll just take a minute.”
She sipped her coffee, then asked, “Does this have anything to do with the big trial tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does. I’d like for my Government class to watch the first day of the trial, but I gotta make sure there will be enough seats.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Theo,” Mrs. Hardy said, frowning and shaking her head. “We’re expecting an overflow crowd. Seating will be tight.”
“Can I talk to the judge?”
“How many are in your class?”
“Sixteen. I thought maybe we could sit in the balcony.”
She was still frowning as she picked up the phone and pushed a button. She waited for a second, then said, “Yes, Judge, Theodore Boone is here and would like to see you. I told him you are very busy.” She listened some more, then put down the phone. “Hurry,” she said, pointing to the judge’s door.
Seconds later, Theo stood before the biggest desk in town, a desk covered with all sorts of papers and files and thick binders, a desk that symbolized the enormous power held by Judge Henry Gantry, who, at that moment, was not smiling. In fact, Theo was certain the judge had not cracked a smile since he’d interrupted his work. Theo, though, was pressing hard with a prolonged flash of metal from ear to ear.
“State your case,” Judge Gantry said. Theo had heard him issue this command on many occasions. He’d seen lawyers, good lawyers, rise and stutter and search for words while Judge Gantry scowled down from the bench. He wasn’t scowling now, nor was he wearing his black robe, but he was still intimidating. As Theo cleared his throat, he saw an unmistakable twinkle in his friend’s eye.
“Yes, sir, well, my Government teacher is Mr. Mount, and Mr. Mount thinks we might get approval from the principal for an all-day field trip to watch the opening of the trial tomorrow.” Theo paused, took a deep breath, told himself again to speak clearly, slowly, forcefully, like all great trial lawyers. “But, we need guaranteed seats. I was thinking we could sit in the balcony.”
“Oh, you were?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many?”
“Sixteen, plus Mr. Mount.”
The judge picked up a file, opened it, and began reading as if he’d suddenly forgotten about Theo standing at attention across the desk. Theo waited for an awkward fifteen seconds. Then the judge abruptly said, “Seventeen seats, front balcony, left side. I’ll tell the bailiff to seat you at ten minutes before nine, tomorrow. I expect perfect behavior.”
“No problem, sir.”
“I’ll have Mrs. Hardy e-mail a note to your principal.”
“Thanks, Judge.”
“You can go now, Theo. Sorry to be so busy.”
“No problem, sir.”
Theo was scurrying toward the door when the judge said, “Say, Theo. Do you think Mr. Duffy is guilty?”
Theo stopped, turned around and without hesitating responded, “He’s presumed innocent.”
“Got that. But what’s your opinion as to his guilt?”
“I think he did it.”
The judge nodded slightly but gave no indication of whether he agreed.
“What about you?” Theo asked.
Finally, a smile. “I’m a fair and impartial referee, Theo. I have no preconceived notions of guilt or innocence.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
“See you tomorrow.” Theo cracked the door and hustled out.
Mrs. Hardy was on her feet, hands on hips, staring down two flustered lawyers who were demanding to see the judge. All three clammed up when Theo walked out of Judge Gantry’s office. He smiled at Mrs. Hardy as he walked hurriedly by. “Thanks,” he said as he opened the door and disappeared.
Chapter 2
The ride from the courthouse to the middle school would take fifteen minutes if properly done, if one obeyed the traffic laws and refrained from trespassing. And normally this is the way Theo would do things, except when he was running a bit late. He flew down Market Street the wrong way, jumped the curb just ahead of a car, and bolted through a parking lot, used every sidewalk available, then—his most serious offense—he ducked between two houses on Elm Street. Theo heard someone yelling from the porch behind him until he was safely into an alley that ran into the teachers’ parking lot behind his school. He checked his watch—nine minutes. Not bad.