Pike turned his head at the mention of Sloane’s name then picked up the pleading, flipping to the last page with the signatures.
“I thought you told me yesterday you’re the boy’s father,” Boykin said.
“His stepfather,” Sloane said.
Boykin stroked his beard, no doubt considering this another power play, but he had no basis to keep Sloane from appearing at counsel table. Recognizing this, Boykin motioned Sloane forward to join Lynch.
“I have granted a motion for shortened time to hear defendants’ motion for a new trial this morning. Mr. Pike, the State stipulates to the motion for shortened time? Mr. Pike?”
Pike looked up from the pleading, the bemused smile gone. “Uh, yes, the State does, Your Honor.”
“Are we going too fast for you, Mr. Pike?”
“No, Judge. My apologies.”
“Then what I have before me is a motion for a new trial and a motion to have a transcript made of yesterday’s proceedings.”
Lynch spoke. “Your Honor, we spoke with the prosecutor this morning and discussed the possibility of putting this matter over until this afternoon, after we have obtained the transcript and had the chance to consider it.”
Boykin cut her off. “The prosecutor is very generous with my time, but does not keep my calendar.”
“I apologize, Judge,” Pike said.
“I have a criminal trial continuing this afternoon. Besides, the issue is moot. I had Ms. Valdez check with the clerk’s office this morning and she has advised that the recording of yesterday’s proceedings is not available. Is that a correct statement, Ms. Valdez.”
The woman in the well spoke. “That’s correct, Judge.”
“What does that mean?” Sloane asked. “When will it be available?”
“It means, Mr. Sloane, that the recording was inadvertently erased. The clerk’s office made a mistake and did not retain it.”
“A mistake?” Sloane asked. Evelyn Newcomber had not said a word to them about it. He turned to Pike. “As opposed to a deliberate, premeditated act?”
Boykin leaned forward. “You will watch your tone, Counselor, or you will again find yourself a guest of Sherriff Barnes, and this time I will not be as lenient.”
“So we have no record of the proceeding?” Lynch asked.
“I believe that’s what I just got through explaining, counsel. Now—”
“Then we would request that the court grant the motion for a new trial,” Sloane said.
Lynch looked caught off guard. So too did Pike. Boykin leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
“The defense requests that the court grant the motion for a new trial.”
Boykin looked bemused. “I heard you the first time, Counselor. Perhaps you would care to educate me on what basis the court would do that?”
“Without the transcript the State has no evidence to meet its burden that either the confessions, or the waivers of counsel, by either defendant, were made knowingly and intelligently. Unable to meet that burden the court must grant the motion.”
“Must? Did you just say ‘must’? Let’s get something straight, Mr. Sloane. I am a superior court judge of Winchester County. Duly elected. The only things I must do are pay taxes and die. Do not presume to tell me what I must do in my courtroom.” He turned his head. “Does the State wish to add anything, Mr. Pike?”
Pike did not immediately respond, an indication he had been unaware of this development or, if he had been, hadn’t considered this potential ramification. “The State opposes, Your Honor.”
Boykin shook his head. “Would the State care to enunciate the basis for its opposition?”
“Uh, yes, it would,” Pike stammered. “We, uh, the State has witnesses. I was here, as was Deputy Langston and Ms. Valdez. I can have another attorney from my office examine me if necessary.”
Sloane responded. “It’s extremely prejudicial to the defense, Your Honor. We should not have to take the word of the county prosecutor and a peace officer.”
“You’re suggesting they would lie?”
“Lying has nothing to do with this. Without a transcript of the hearings, the defense can’t conduct a proper cross-examination of the witnesses. We have no way to corroborate that what they might testify to is an accurate recollection of what was and was not said.”
Boykin sat forward. “I disagree. I was also present in court and can make that determination.”
“Then the defense requests that Your Honor recuse himself if he intends to be a witness for the State,” Sloane countered.
“Don’t be insolent, Counselor. I have no intention of recusing myself or becoming a witness. I was merely attempting to alleviate your concern that Mr. Pike, Deputy Langston, or Ms. Valdez would lie, under oath, in my presence.”
“Begging Your Honor’s pardon,” Sloane said. “But it’s your presence that concerns us.”
Boykin flushed and took a moment to adjust his glasses. “Are you suggesting, Counselor, that I would subordinate perjury?”
“Not at all, Judge,” Sloane said, “Only that it is your ruling that these fine citizens of Winchester County would be trying to uphold. With all due respect, it’s not the same as having a transcribed record.”
“Maybe not, but it is what it is. Do you wish to proceed or not?”
Lynch looked to Sloane with hopeless resignation. They both knew the witnesses weren’t about to say anything but that the confessions and waivers were knowing and intelligent. In fact, Sloane and Lynch’s motion now provided a road map of what they needed to say to meet that legal standard. Without a record, Sloane and Lynch had no way to challenge their testimony.
“We’d like to examine someone in the clerk’s office concerning this mysterious disappearance of the recording of yesterday’s hearing,” Sloane said.
“So now you’re suggesting the loss of that recording was the result of something untoward?” Boykin asked.
“I am merely trying to create a full record, Your Honor,” Sloane said, meaning a complete record to be submitted to the court of appeals.
Boykin looked to his clerk. “If you wish to conduct a full hearing with the testimony of witnesses we will have to place this on my regular hearing calendar. Ms. Valdez, when do I have an afternoon free?”
Valdez played with the keys on her computer screen, studying it. “Two weeks from next Wednesday, Judge.”
Lynch stepped in. “Your Honor, if the court is unable to hear this matter this morning we are prepared to stipulate, without conceding the accuracy of their recollection, that the witnesses for the State will testify that Jake and T.J. waived their right to counsel and confessed if the prosecution will stipulate that the defendants did not have counsel present, no counsel was offered, and each appeared in court without a parent or legal guardian within six hours of their arrest.”
Boykin looked to Pike.
“The State will so stipulate,” Pike said.
“Then we would request that you deny the motion and issue your order,” Lynch said.
Though it pained Sloane to hear it, he knew Lynch’s strategy was correct. It made no sense to wait more than two weeks for a hearing that would most certainly result in the witnesses testifying as had been represented and Boykin denying their motion for a new trial. To go forward with a full hearing would only be wasting time, and after his conversation with Jake, Sloane felt even more compelled to get the boys freed quickly. By pushing Boykin to issue his order they could now move immediately to file an appeal and seek to have that appeal expedited. The suspicious lack of a transcribed record only strengthened their case. It wasn’t great. An appeal, too, would take time, but they were not going to get anything better, not in Winchester County, not from Judge Earl.
“Fine,” Boykin said. “Defendants’ motion for a new trial is denied. Mr. Pike, you will prepare an order for my signature. Counsel may obtain a copy of that order from the clerk’s office.”
“Your Honor, may we ask to have the order faxed to my office,” Lynch said. She would waste no time drafting her appeal.
“Leave your business cards with Ms. Valdez and she will see that it is taken care of.”
Sloane and Lynch left their business cards on the oak railing.
Boykin never even dismissed them. He just shifted files. “Ms. Valdez, call the next matter.”
Turning from the railing, Sloane watched a correctional officer escort two boys into the courtroom. The door had nearly closed when a hand emerged, grabbing the edge and pushing the door open. Carl Wade stepped in wearing his Truluck police uniform, pausing when he caught sight of Sloane and Molia.
“State of California versus Griffin Knight,” Ms. Valdez said.
Molia timed his walk with Wade’s approach to the swinging gate and spoke into the police officer’s ear. “I hope you liked chocolate,” he said before following Lynch to the exit.
In the corridor outside the courtroom, Molia said, “That was a waste of time.”
Lynch tried to sound optimistic. “We had to go through this step to file the appeal. Now we’ve gained a stipulation that Jake and T.J. were tried without counsel and without a parent.”
“We already had that,” Molia said.
“And that they were tried and convicted within six hours of their arrest. I’ll get a toxicologist’s opinion, but I suspect he’ll conclude from the amount of alcohol the police report states they consumed that Jake and T.J. were still legally drunk when they appeared before Judge Earl.”
“That’s got to help,” Molia said, brightening.
“And the loss of the record is just one more thing for the court to look at and conclude something untoward occurred. I’ll have someone working on the appeal while I’m driving back. We’ll get it filed first thing Monday morning and seek to have it expedited.”
“You think it was an accident, David?”
Sloane turned and looked at Molia but did not answer. His mind remained in the courtroom. He had seen no attorneys or other adults seated in the gallery. “He’s going to do the same thing to those two boys,” he said. “Boykin’s going to railroad them.” Before Lynch or Molia could respond Sloane pulled open the door and stepped back into the courtroom. Archibald Pike had been reading the complaint, making reference to violations of the California Penal Code section when Sloane pushed through the swinging gate. Pike stopped in midsentence.
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The morning had not started with a shower, it started with twenty-five minutes of calisthenics in the yard, though Jake noticed that Big Baby went directly to the bathhouse. The workout wasn’t particularly rigorous—push-ups and sit-ups and jumping jacks. Jake’s wrestling practices had been much more arduous, but in his weakened physical condition he had trouble keeping up and Atkins took every opportunity to berate him. He felt light-headed, like when he would crash diet to make wrestling weight, and at one point
thought he’d throw up, though there was nothing in his stomach to vomit. After calisthenics they proceeded to the showers, five minutes in lukewarm water. Still, it felt refreshing to be clean for the first time in days. When Jake entered the dorm he found clean bedding on his mattress. The other inmates moved with robotic precision, remaking their beds to military standards. One of them, the blond-haired boy who Jake suspected had been Big Baby’s victim the prior night, saw Jake struggling with the sheet and quickly approached.
“Like this.” He took an end, shook the sheet out and let it fall so that the top was six inches longer than the mattress. “Tuck it in,” he said. He repeated the process with the blanket until Jake’s bed looked the same as the others. When they had finished he said, “Atkins likes to drop a quarter and see it bounce.”
They’d find out quickly enough. At precisely 7:55
AM
Atkins appeared in the dorm, greeted again by the shout of “Officer in the barracks.”
As they had the previous night, each boy snapped to attention at the foot of his bed. Jake did the same, not out of any respect for Atkins, but because he had vowed not to do anything to jeopardize his chance to eat his first meal since the dinner at Whistling Pete’s in Truluck, nearly forty hours ago. He needed to regain his strength, suspecting he would likely have more encounters with Atkins.
Atkins inspected each bed, pulling on corners to ensure snug fits. He also considered each inmate’s appearance, telling one to zip his coveralls, another to retie his shoelaces. He didn’t like the way one had shaved. Each responded without hesitation. When Atkins reached the foot of Jake’s mattress his eyes narrowed. Jake suspected Atkins had hoped to find the bed unmade, another reason to punish him. He turned without comment.
After Atkins released the dorm they walked single file to the mess hall. Jake was salivating by the time they entered the building, but to his bitter disappointment they did not get in line for food. They took seats at one of the tables closest to the plate-glass windows. Streams of pale light shone on administrators in civilian clothing who stood to discuss a wide range of topics, from their
classroom work to structured recreation time, group therapy, and assigned afternoon chores. As if to further taunt him, each person spoke while standing in front of the serving counter, where wisps of steam from water boiling beneath the food pans filled the room with the aroma of eggs and bacon.
After the final announcement Atkins ordered the guards to release the tables one at a time. They released Jake’s table last. When he finally grabbed one of the yellow trays and a plate he feared he’d reach the front of the line only to be told they had run out of food. He anxiously watched as the servers dished out helpings of eggs and potatoes, two strips of bacon, and a small carton of milk. When he reached the front they filled his plate full and he felt a great sense of relief. He searched for a place to sit among the inmates who were engaged in excited chatter about the morning menu. From their comments Jake deduced bacon to be a rare treat. Jake spotted an opening at the table with the kid who helped him with the mattress and started in that direction. Halfway there he heard a loud bang and turned to see one of the servers kneeling to pick up a stack of dropped trays. Big Baby sat close by, smiling at Jake.