Authors: Ann Warner
“Yes, I saw the story.” Ms. Velez put her hands together and rested her index fingers against her lips. “What’s your connection to the case?”
Rob went through it while Velez watched him over a pair of half glasses. A large, plain woman with astute brown eyes, she reminded him of Sam. “If you take the case, there’s one requirement,” he said, wrapping up.
She raised her eyebrows waiting.
“No one, particularly my wife, is to know I’m paying the bills.”
Velez leaned forward, frowning. “I can say I’m being paid by a concerned philanthropist.”
A concerned philanthropist. Unlikely Clare would recognize him with that description. A good thing. It might confuse her as to his intentions. But then, hell,
he
was confused about his intentions.
“I need a retainer of $2,000, and you do realize, you may be paying the bills, but I’ll be working for Tyrese. I’ll inform you of anything that isn’t confidential, but most of it will be, especially if it stays in juvenile court.”
“I don’t need reports. Just let me know when it’s over.”
“And I’ll send you the bill.”
“Of course.”
Clare arrived at Hope House for an evening tutoring session to find John Apple waiting to speak to her.
“Frank Hortz came by this afternoon,” John said. “Wanted to know what the hell we’re pulling.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Way Hortz was ranting, hard to figure out at first. Gist is somebody took offense at the newspaper article and used it to get the judge to remove Hortz. Marge Velez is replacing him. Paid for by a philanthropist who takes a special interest in kids like Tyrese. I called Rabbit. He says she’s one of the best defense attorneys in the city, but he’s never heard of a philanthropist doing that here.”
“So who cares?” Clare said. “Being fired couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” The whys and wherefores didn’t matter. The truly important thing was Tyrese’s fate no longer rested in Hortz’s grasping, incompetent hands.
“First time I’ve seen someone’s face turn purple. We worried he might stroke out.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on him,” Clare said. “But it feels good to know he’s off the case.”
“Tell me about Tyrese.” Marge Velez tapped a pen on her legal pad. “How you met him. Your interactions with him at Hope House.”
Clare repeated the story she’d told Rob. When she got to the part about the mugging, Velez’s eyes widened in surprise. “What did your husband think about you befriending a mugger?”
A John Apple kind of question. Not the kind Clare was expecting from this crisp, no-nonsense woman. “He didn’t know about it until recently.”
Velez looked at her notes, turning over a page and clearing her throat before asking Clare to continue. Clare then related how Tyrese changed from his tough-guy stance into an apt pupil and willing worker. When she reached the part about Tyrese showing up at Hope House with injuries, Velez slowed her down, asking detailed questions about when Tyrese was hurt, and the nature of those injuries.
“What happens next?” Clare asked when Velez finished.
“I expect Tyrese to be released from the hospital in a day or so. He’ll then be transferred to juvenile detention, and there will be a hearing within forty-eight hours. The prosecutor plans to ask that Tyrese be tried as an adult.”
It was what they feared.
“I intend to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Velez capped her pen and reached out to shake Clare’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Chapin.”
Afterward, Clare compared notes with John and Beck, who’d also been interviewed by Velez. “I forgot to ask. Will we testify at the hearing?”
“Only the prosecution’s case is presented,” John said, “but Ms. Velez will get a crack at the witnesses. Given her rep, that may be all she needs.”
Tyrese was discharged from the hospital on Monday, and Clare took Wednesday morning off to join Beck and John at the courthouse for the hearing.
“Beck, Appleseed, Clare,” Nellie Brown said, walking up to them. Then she stopped speaking to pull a handkerchief out of her capacious purse and mop her eyes. “It sure good of y’all to come be with me and my boy.”
“We couldn’t be anywhere else, Nellie,” Clare said. “We’ll be right here praying.”
“Y’all ain’t coming into court with me?”
“The hearing is closed. Only family’s allowed,” John said.
Nellie looked outraged. “Well, I never. If y’all ain’t family, don’t know who is. I talk to the judge.”
“That’s okay, Nellie,” Clare said.
Nellie just harrumphed and marched into the courtroom. Five minutes later, a young man in a dark suit came out and approached them. “The defendant’s mother asked that you be present. If you would follow me?”
When they entered the courtroom, Nellie gave them a satisfied look. Clare sought out Tyrese. Frail and thin, he was seated at a table beside Ms. Velez. Across from them at another table sat the prosecutor, a heavyset man with an incipient comb-over. As the judge began to speak, Tyrese peeked over his shoulder, and Clare wiggled her fingers at him. His lips curved in a smile, but his eyes remained fearful.
After the preliminaries, the prosecutor called his first witness, D’Shawn Williams. The bailiff went off to fetch D’Shawn, who turned out to be a six-foot-tall black man with bulging muscles. After being sworn in, he strutted to the witness chair and slouched into it, glaring at Tyrese.
Clare listened intently as the prosecutor led D’Shawn through his testimony describing how Tyrese stabbed Jamal and the subsequent struggle to subdue Tyrese.
“Your witness, counselor.” The prosecutor smirked at Ms. Velez as he returned to his seat.
Velez stood but remained behind the table. “Mr. Williams, you’re eighteen years old, is that correct?”
“Yeah.”
“You look very fit. I bet you work out.”
D’Shawn grinned at her, obviously pleased. “Do some.”
“Bet you can bench-press, oh, a hundred, hundred and fifty pounds.”
He frowned. “Three hundred more like it.”
“Of course. Three hundred pounds.”
“Objection.” The prosecutor’s tone was bored. “I fail to see how Mr. Williams’s bench-pressing prowess has anything to do with this case. No bench-pressing involved, as far as I recall.”
“Your Honor, this crime involved a violent confrontation,” Velez said. “The fitness and strength of the participants is very much an issue.”
“Overruled.”
Clare clenched her hands in anticipation as the questions continued.
“Tell me, was Jamal Hicks as big and strong as you are?” Velez’s tone was sugary.
Williams straightened his shoulders slightly, preening. “Sure. All us Bull Sharks big and strong.”
“So Mr. Hicks could also bench-press three hundred pounds?”
“Yeah. Well, maybe bit less.”
“What was your relationship with Mr. Hicks?”
“He, uh, he the head of us, and he a friend.”
“A good friend?”
Williams slumped in the chair. “Sure.”
“Do you own any knives, Mr. Williams?”
“Course I do. Got steak knives, butcher knife.”
“Do you own a pocketknife?”
D’Shawn wiggled and looked at the judge, who reminded him he was testifying under oath.
“Sure, we all got pocketknives. They for protection.”
“How big is your knife?”
D’Shawn held his fingers apart.
“Please put that into words for the court.”
“‘Bout six inches.”
“Do you always have it with you?”
“Course.”
“Do you have it today?”
“Don’t bring nothing like that to court. I’m not stupid.”
Velez continued asking Williams questions, looking more at her notes than at him, leading him through a discussion of how long he’d known Jamal and how much time they spent together. Occasionally, in a desultory fashion the prosecutor objected.
“Did Jamal have a girlfriend, Mr. Williams?”
“Sure.”
“What’s her name?”
Once again, Williams wiggled. “Uh. Tanisha.”
“Objection. Counselor has wandered around the lot on this. Does she have a point?”
“Your Honor, a very important point, which will be clear in just a moment.”
“Overruled, but make your point quickly, counselor.”
Velez looked directly at Williams for the first time, and Clare drew in an anticipatory breath.
“Had Tanisha and Jamal been together long?”
“While.”
“A year?”
“Naw. Two, three weeks is all.”
“Before that, did Tanisha have another boyfriend?”
Williams mumbled a response.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. You need to speak up so the court can hear.”
“Yeah. She did.”
“Another Bull Shark?”
Williams shot a glare of pure hatred at Velez. “Yeah. She my woman.”
“Did you and Tanisha part on good terms?”
“Didn’t
part
.” He stretched his neck and glared at Velez. “Jamal, he say, she don’t go with him, he cut her.”
Velez continued to scrutinize the witness for a moment. Watching her, Clare had a sense she was easing into position like an archer pulling back on a bow.
“So she left you.” Velez spoke softly.
D’Shawn reared back as if he’d been slapped. “Didn’t want to. Woman loves me.
Me
. Jamal just think he so cool. He not.”