The Advocate's Conviction (9 page)

“Yeah, but we may not have had the same result.”

“I would’ve won that one.”

“Only because we were on the same side. That baby needed to be with her mother. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to obtain sobriety. I just hope she stays that way.”

“She’s pretty determined and she has great support from her family. I think she’ll make it.”

As they walked out the door toward their cars, Sabre received a text. She read it and said, “I’m going to go meet JP. He has a lead on Cole.”

“Did someone find him?” Bob’s eyes opened wide.

“No, but it seems someone saw him. That’s about all I know. He told me not to go there, but I’m going anyway.” Sabre opened up her car door and stepped inside. “I’ll keep you posted.”

As Sabre drove to meet JP at the park where they had spoken to the old woman, she was excited they had a lead, but nervous about what they might find out. JP was waiting for her when she arrived. “I thought I told you not to come here.”

“So, why are you here waiting for me?”

“Because I knew you’d show up and I didn’t want you wandering around here by yourself.”

Sabre smiled. “Thanks.”

JP mumbled something Sabre couldn’t understand and then said, “I stayed with the old woman yesterday for a couple of hours but she didn’t lead me anywhere. When she lay down under a tree and fell asleep, I left. But then I came back today and spoke to a homeless man who said ‘the woman’ would know. When I asked him ‘what woman’ he pointed to the same woman we talked to yesterday. He said she goes to the bridge every day about this time. So, I’m going there to see what it’s all about. You wait here.”

Sabre tipped her head to the left and rolled her eyes upward. “I’m going with you.” Sabre popped her trunk open, stepped out of the car, and walked to the back. She slipped off her heels and replaced her shoes. “See, I even have my walking shoes on. Let’s go.”

JP shook his head. “You’re a pain some times, you know?”

Sabre smiled sheepishly.

“Well, stay close to me. Don’t wander off. We’re going to be about as welcome as a skunk at a wedding.”

Sabre laughed.

They walked through the park and across a field toward a bridge that no longer appeared to serve any purpose. It once crossed over a street, but now it ended in mid-air and was blocked off at the end. Brush scraped against Sabre’s pant leg, sometimes sticking through the fabric. Sabre hadn’t quite expected all the debris and she was glad she had at least changed her shoes. The closer they got to the bridge, the more garbage they encountered. She stepped on a piece of glass that wrapped around her shoe and stuck to it without cutting her foot. She stopped and removed the broken bottle.

“Ah,” Sabre said shaking her bleeding finger.

“Are you okay?” JP asked.

“I just cut my finger. It’s nothing, just a little puncture.”

JP mumbled something again. She chose not to ask him to repeat it.

As they approached the bridge, the smell of garbage grew stronger. Sabre took a deep breath, expecting it to be the last good air she was going to breathe for a while. She was right. The stench became so strong she wanted to vomit as they passed a pile of trash near the opening. “I think the skunk has already been here,” Sabre said.

JP didn’t respond. Sabre knew he was a little bit upset at her for insisting that she go along, but she knew he’d get over it as long as she didn’t do something really stupid.

Up until that point they hadn’t seen anyone, but just as they went under the edge of the bridge, they saw a group of people at the other end approximately thirty feet away. There appeared to be about ten men and women sitting around on boxes and rocks and a few others lying down. They could hear the chatter as they approached. Several shopping carts were parked haphazardly in the bushes. Another lay on its side, bent almost in half. Old clothes were strewn about, food cartons spattered the area, and a small red-and-white shopping bag that appeared almost new was leaned against the wall near where the old woman was sitting on a stack of boards. The stench of garbage was not as strong as it was at the opening, but the smell of alcohol was more powerful.

By the time they reached the group, the conversation had stopped. Some of them stared. Others hid under their blankets or coats. The group seemed to be going up to the old woman one at a time as she doled out food. She stopped and looked up.

Sabre said, “Hello again. We met in the park yesterday.”

The old woman said nothing. She nodded at the next person in line. He stepped forward and she gave him a container with what looked like half of a burrito.

Sabre removed the photo of Cole from her bag. She held it up, moving it from side to side, for all to see. “Has anyone seen this missing child?”

A murmur passed over, but no one volunteered anything. Several of them looked toward the old woman. Sabre turned to her again. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“The boy,” she said.

“No, what’s your name?” Sabre asked again, pointing at the woman.

She didn’t say anything. A younger woman spoke up from where she sat in the dirt, eating some French fries very deliberately and slowly. Sabre wondered if she was trying to make them last longer. “We call her ‘Mother Teresa’ or sometimes just ‘Mama T.’”

“Okay, ‘Mama T’ it is. Have you seen this boy?”

“The boy,” she said, shaking her head from side to side, “the boy.”

JP stood close to Sabre, observing the crowd. He noticed the younger woman nodding her head as Mama T repeated “the boy.” The younger woman’s eyes darted back and forth. JP stepped closer to her. “Will you come over here please,” he asked softly. “I want you to get a better look at the picture.”

She stood up and walked toward them. Sabre showed her the picture.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” JP asked.

She nodded her head.

“When?”

“He was here for two days, but he ate too much. Mama T gave him the best food.” She looked at Mama T, but the woman seemed to ignore her and started handing out more food.

“So what happened?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some of the guys got mad and told him he had to go away. So he left. Mama T was very angry. She liked the boy.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“That way.” She pointed to the right of the park.

“When did he leave?”

“This morning.”

14

Bob dipped his cigarette butt into the sand at the top of the tall, stone ashtray that stood in front of the San Diego Superior Court Juvenile Division. The perfect brittsommar day, as his Swedish grandmother would have called it, made him want to be anywhere but here. He walked through the metal detectors and upstairs where he had agreed to meet his client, Karen Lecy. Noon seemed like a good time since he knew his client wasn’t an early riser. He would rather have done this in his office, but it was easier for Karen to go to the courthouse.

Bob walked over to the wall that stood about four feet high and looked over. From there he could see the entire lobby as well as the front door. Karen was late. Bob expected nothing else. He’d be surprised if she even made it at all. It wasn’t unusual for his juvenile court clients to make appointments and not keep them, especially the court-appointed cases. The clients who paid out of their own pocket were much more considerate of his time.

Bob opened his manila file folder and glanced quickly through the detention report. There was nothing in there he didn’t already know. He placed it back in the file where it laid loosely inside. Bob never attached anything to the folder and seldom had more than the latest report. He kept the facts in his head, and when he needed something else he generally borrowed it from Sabre if she was on the case. He checked his watch. His client was nearly ten minutes late. He gazed over the wall at the remaining attorneys with their clients, who were waiting their turn to learn what would be the next step in their pathetic lives. It was relatively quiet down below—he could see ten or twelve defendants, about a half dozen attorneys, two marshals, and a Chinese interpreter he recognized from the Vu case. Most of the courtrooms had recessed for lunch. Bob looked at his watch. It read 12:14. He’d give her a few more minutes.

A while later, Karen Lecy passed through the metal detector, apparently smart enough to not enter with drugs this time. She looked around and then started for the stairway. Bob met her part way. She smiled when she greeted him but made no mention of being late. He didn’t know the client very well, so he didn’t know if she was just rude or if it was drug-induced self-centeredness. Karen’s red eyes surrounded by the dark circles coupled with her disheveled appearance indicated that she hadn’t wasted any time getting a fix upon her release from custody.

Bob led her to a couple of chairs and a small table that sat in one corner of the large hallway next to the four-foot wall. “What is the status of your criminal case?” he asked.

“I entered a plea for possession. I shouldn’t have, though. They wasn’t my drugs.”

“How did they get in your bag?”

“Someone must have put them there.”

“Who do you think would do that?” Bob was toying with her now.

“I don’t know, maybe someone behind me who didn’t want to get caught with their stash. Maybe they just dropped them in my purse.”

“Did they check them for fingerprints?”

“They said they had mine on them, but I dig in my purse for stuff all the time. Maybe I touched them without knowing.”

“But then they would’ve had to be in there a while before you put your bag on the conveyer belt to go through the metal detector.”

Karen wiggled in her chair. “It must’ve been someone outside before I came in then. I seen this one guy who was acting all crazy. It was probably him.”

Bob didn’t really care about her drug use except how it affected this case. If she was stupid enough to use, then it was her problem. “You’re probably right,” he said. “When do you go back to court?”

“In two weeks. I have to go back for sentencing. The DA agreed to probation. My attorney said it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Who’s your attorney?” Bob picked up his pen to write down the information.

“Uh … Betts. Mr. Betts.”

“Do you have his card?”

Karen reached in her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She looked around. “Can I smoke in here?”

Bob shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

She laid the cigarettes down on the table, reached back in her purse, and took out her wallet. She fumbled through it and removed a card. “Barry. Barry Betts,” she said.

Bob reached for the card, copied the information, and handed it back to her. The card didn’t have the government logo on it, which meant he was in private practice.

“Was this attorney court appointed?” Bob asked.

“He’s not a public defender or nothing like that,” Karen replied.

“So did you hire him?”

“No.” Karen picked up the pack of cigarettes.

“So, how did you get him as your attorney?”

“He was just there.”

“What do you mean ‘he was just there’?”

“He came to see me at the jail. He said he likes to do some ‘bono’ work or something and he was taking my case.” She flipped the cigarette pack back and forth in her right hand.

“Pro-bono. That means he takes the case for free.”

“He offered to do this case here, too, but I told him I already had an attorney.”

“You know you’re free to make that choice.”

“No. I like you. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” Bob said. He sarcastically thought how flattering it was to have one more druggie’s approval. “So let’s talk about this case. Have you had any contact with Bailey?”

“No. I heard she ran away from the foster home. They take her away from me, and they can’t take care of her any better than I can. Now we don’t know where she is. At least I knew where she was when she was with me.” Karen’s voice got louder. “They need to just end this case. She’ll come home. Can you do that for me?”

“It’s not quite that easy. And the court won’t do anything until Bailey is found, so we need to start there. If she does contact you, you must report it.”

“So how do I get my kid back from the government?”

“You need to start by getting clean.”

“I am …”

Bob raised his hand, palm facing her. “And stay clean. You need to attend the programs they have suggested. And Scott, your boyfriend, is a known drug dealer, albeit small time. He has to go.”

“What’s he got to do with this? He hasn’t done nothing. And how am I going to pay my rent?” Karen opened the cigarette pack and removed a cigarette. She laid the pack on the table and rolled the cigarette around with her index finger and thumb, occasionally reaching it up to her mouth without putting it in. “They already took my check. How do they expect me to live?”

Bob was frustrated with her stupidity, but she had lost control over her pathetic existence and for that he was sorry. However, she was an adult and at some point she had to grow up and start making appropriate choices. He couldn’t do that for her and although he would do everything he could for her case, he knew he couldn’t do much until she started to help herself. He didn’t know what sparked his clients to take that control back. For some, losing their children was enough. Others had to completely hit bottom and end up on the streets with no where to go but up. And others never did get it. Bob knew what his choice would be. Losing his child would be about the worst thing he could think of, and it was difficult to understand how people could believe otherwise.