Darkness Before Dawn (30 page)

“Your Honor, it is in your hands. Will you serve justice or will you ignore the first
step in a solution to a problem that kills more than 12,000 people a year?

“Thank you.”

Meg’s eyes, which had filled with tears, fell down to where her hands were folded
across her lap. Cheryl’s words had cut through her like a knife. Steve wasn’t coming
back. And the baby she was now carrying would never know him. Surely, the judge would
understand that and act accordingly.

As Meg composed herself, Jasper Tidwell pushed his chair back and began his well-rehearsed
speech. In dramatic fashion, his words dripping like a gentle rain off a roof, he
made his case.

“This boy—and that is what he is, Your Honor, just a boy of such a tender age—has
learned his lesson. He accepts the mistake he made and fully realizes the cost to
Megan Richards. Yet this mistake, when contrasted to the boy’s fine reputation as
a student and leader, is an anomaly. James is normally the kid who is the leader and
who does the right thing. In fact, ever since the accident he has not missed a single
Sunday at church and has even spent his Saturday mornings working as a volunteer at
the local Boy’s Club.”

Though numb, Meg was not so insulated that she didn’t take great offense at what Tidwell
was doing. She’d met Thomas face-to-face, she’d seen what kind of person he was. His
attitude was not anything like the picture the attorney was painting. And he wasn’t
a boy. He was almost eighteen years old! Men his age were fighting and being killed
in wars!

“Your Honor,” Tidwell continued the theme that was so eating at Meg, “my client is
but a lad, a boy, a youth who has his entire life in front of him. You have already
judged him to be guilty and the shame of this will follow him for all the days of
his life. But if you sentence him to prison, it will interrupt and probably halt his
education. His future will be altered irrevocably and whatever service he could be
to humanity will be lost. He does not deserve to be placed in an environment filled
with cold-blooded killers and professional crooks. No child does.

“A maximum sentence, really, any jail term, will mean that this accident hasn’t just
cost this community the life of Steven Richards but of James Thomas, too. Mr. Thomas
can build on the experience he has been through and, if you allow him to
learn from it, those lessons can be applied in the productive life he will lead from
this day forth.”

Tidwell took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his tangle of white hair, and
glanced back toward Meg. As their eyes met, she suddenly felt like she had the advantage.
The attorney’s arrogance and combative style were nowhere in sight. Suddenly he wasn’t
challenging Steve or professing the innocence of James Thomas. Simply put, he was
admitting that a mistake had been made and was begging for mercy. He was no longer
the seasoned attorney; he now sounded more like a father pleading for a son.

Turning his face back to the bench, Tidwell continued, “No jail term will bring the
victim back, but a jail term will make a victim out of my client. He doesn’t need
a cold, hard cell; he needs the challenges of the world and the understanding of people
who love and care for him.

“Please, Your Honor, don’t waste a boy’s life because of this one tragic mistake in
judgment. I thank you and this court.”

Truett allowed the attorney to move back to his seat before speaking. “Ladies and
gentlemen, we will now dismiss for lunch and will meet again at two o’clock this afternoon
when I will then pronounce sentence. I thank you for your time and ask that you return
promptly at two.”

The last thing Meg needed or wanted was time for her mind to drum up more nightmares,
yet that was what was on her plate. She would now have one hundred and eighty more
minutes to dwell on what had happened and what would be done about it.

T
HE NEXT THREE HOURS WERE LONG AND LONELY
. M
EG DECLINED LUNCH
with Cheryl, opting instead to walk through the shops located in the downtown business
district. Beyond the tense wait for the judge’s decision, she was still numb from
Nancy’s death. And though she’d only known the woman for a short time, she missed
her. How she needed to feel Nancy’s compassion and tap into her enthusiasm for life.
And now there was no way to do that. Nancy would never tell her anything again.

In an antique mall, Meg searched through old, long-playing, vinyl albums and found
the Barbara Mandrell record that had the song playing when Nancy died. Though she
didn’t own a record player, she bought the album. Just being able to carry it with
her made her feel less alone.

After her purchase at the antique mall, she walked through another half dozen shops
and bought nothing. When she ran out of places to window shop, she grabbed a sandwich
at a hamburger stand and ate on a park bench. As she finished her lunch, it suddenly
dawned on her that she hadn’t gotten sick that morning. Was that passed now? Wouldn’t
it be great to get all the bad stuff behind her on the same day?

After lunch, she ambled slowly back toward the courthouse, passing the last forty-five
minutes before the sentencing sitting on a bench watching old men play dominos. At
five before two, she climbed the well-worn stairs leading to the second floor, strolled
down the hall and into the courtroom, and took her regular seat. Her attention should
have been riveted on the judge as he entered the room. Strangely though, it was miles
away. All she could think about was an empty hospital room numbered 211, an equally
empty apartment, and a grave occupied by a man she once dearly loved.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Truett began. “I can’t tell you how many different ways
I have tried to look at the case. I have a host of mixed emotions concerning what
is right and what is the proper thing to do. And I have fought a war with myself on
this matter.

“As a member of a body of officers given the duty of judging the law, I am very troubled
with the problems we have concerning the loss of innocent lives by the careless use
of alcohol. As Ms. Bednarz so correctly pointed out, more than 12,000 deaths last
year alone were caused by people using this drug while driving.”

The officer of the court glanced down at his notes before continuing. This pause allowed
Meg time to study Cheryl. She was calm and appeared confident. What a trooper she
was! Truett’s words pulled Meg’s attention from her friend and attorney back to the
bench.

“I am personally appalled at the way our high school children and college students
blatantly and unthinkingly consume liquor as a means of making a social statement.
I am equally upset and disturbed that the parents of these children seem to treat
this great problem as a mere facet of growing up, a stage that their children will
work through. At some point, someone must step in and show the problem in the proper
light. Maybe I should be that person.”

Yes, this was what she needed to hear! Meg glanced over at Tidwell and Thomas. Both
were pale. The youth actually looked as though he might pass out. This was going well!
She couldn’t have scripted it any better.

“I must agree,” Truett continued, “that our laws do not adequately cover the crime
of killing by mixing booze and cars. Surely, if the defendant had gotten liquored
up, taken a gun, and shot Steven Richards, all of us in this courtroom would think
that ten years in prison was far too short a term for such a vile and outrageous act.”

Turning toward Meg, he solemnly said, “I feel for the victim’s pregnant widow. Her
life and the hardships that she must surely endure due to this careless action, few,
if any of us, can imagine. If I were her I would be bitter and unforgiving.”

Directing his gaze at the defendant, the judge pressed on with his statement. “Still,
being a father, I question if prison is the place for a young man. While I must admit
that he is clearly in the wrong and his past actions have taught him little about
what is right and wrong, I question whether prison will serve to direct him toward
a more mature view of the importance of leading a responsible life. In fact, I am
more than a bit disappointed I have no power at this time to sentence those who supplied
the alcohol—his parents—more specifically his father. I have laid the groundwork for
Judge Thomas to appear before the State Bar and explain his actions.”

Cheryl glanced back at Meg and shrugged.

“So be it assured that I have considered all of these things and considered them long
and hard before I decided the proper punishment phase of this case.”

Stopping, Truett nodded toward the defense table, “Will the defendant rise?”

The youth and his attorney slowly pushed their chairs back and stood. Tidwell rested
his hands on the table and actually
crossed two fingers. Thomas, his eyes cast downward, rocked from side to side.

“James Thomas, it was the finding of this court that you are guilty on all three of
the charges that the state had brought against you. On the first judgment of driving
under the influence, I will order the state to void your driver’s license and further
instruct the state not to issue you a driving permit of any kind until at least your
twenty-first birthday.

“On the second count of reckless driving, I am sentencing you to two years’ probation
and a five-hundred dollar fine.

“Finally, on the most serious count of vehicular homicide, I sentence you to five
years . . .”

Thomas looked from the floor to the judge, his face displaying shock and panic. Meg,
while disappointed he hadn’t gotten the full ten, was still pleased. Her pleasure
clearly showing in her eyes. Cheryl, her fist clenched, grimly smiled.

After allowing his words to sink in, Truett continued, “Those five years will be a
probationary sentence. During this time, the defendant must see an alcohol counselor
at least once every two weeks for a minimum of one year and he cannot break any of
the stipulations of the first two assessments. He will also be required to do ten
hours of weekly community service, service that the local state social services office
will assign, for at least a two-year period. And, he will be assessed and must pay
a
10,000 fine. If you, Mr. Thomas, violate any of these stipulations, you will serve
the full five years in a state prison. Mr. Thomas, report to the social services office
Monday afternoon to receive your assignment.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, this court in adjourned.”

Pounding his gavel, the judge quickly departed into his chambers.

Meg bolted up right. She was in shock. Grabbing Cheryl by the shoulder, she demanded.
“What kind of justice is this?”

The attorney just shook her head.

“What can we do about it?” Meg demanded.

“Not a thing.” Cheryl quietly explained. “It is over now.”

Shifting her focus to the other side of the courtroom, Meg noted Jasper Tidwell vigorously
shaking hands with anyone who came near him. Judge Thomas and his wife, obviously
relieved, were quietly talking to another couple standing beside them. Meanwhile,
Jim Thomas was sitting rock-solid still in his chair, his eyes focused on the surface
of the table before him.

Meg, observing that no one was close enough to stop her, walked purposely through
the swinging gate separating her from the front of the courtroom and marched to a
position directly across the table from the teen. He looked up when he felt her presence,
and for several long seconds neither of them spoke. Finally, he broke the silence.

“I’m really sorry,” was all he could manage.

“You don’t know what sorry is,” Meg hissed. “I told you once that I’d meet you in
hell. I’ll go one better than that now. I’ll personally deliver you to that destination.”

She pointed a finger toward his face as she continued, “Every time you look over your
shoulder, I’ll be there. If the phone rings, check your caller ID. Odds are, it will
be me. When you go out riding with your friends, glance out the back window because
I’ll be following you.

“I guarantee that prison would have been easier on you than I will be. My vow to my
husband and to myself is to make you miserable until the day that you die. I’m your
judge and jury now, and don’t expect any mercy from me.”

“Meg,” Cheryl’s whispered as she grabbed her arm. “He’s not worth it. I’ll walk you
out.”

“You mark my words,” Meg spat. “The rest of your miserable life is in my hands!”

Then, turning, she and Cheryl dodged reporters and left the room.

A
RAPID AND HOT RAGE FILLED
M
EG
. I
N HER HEART, SHE KNEW THAT
J
IM
Thomas had gotten off scot-free. He had killed her husband and wouldn’t spend a day
in prison. None of Cheryl’s words served to calm her down at the courtroom or later,
while she sat alone at home dreaming up ways to even the score. A call from her mother
only served to anger Meg more.