His mind skips to Vince’s face on the night the cops busted in. His brother had cultivated a tough-guy persona. He was a tough guy. He’d taken countless beatings so that Chris and their mom wouldn’t have to. But when the police dragged him out of the house, his eyes screamed terror.
But this girl?
Nothing. Maybe she’s in shock.
As Henry introduces them, Chris has another thought: her demeanor will kill her in the media. The press will call her the “Stone Cold Killer” or “Ice （Cream） Queen” or other clickbait-inspired names.
Henry takes the lead, his manner with their client parental but no-nonsense. “We can never tell anyone anything you tell us,” he says. “Do you understand?”
The suspect nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Here’s how it’s going to go. The first step is called an arraignment. That’s where you plead guilty or not guilty. We’ll plead not guilty. You can change that at any time but we need time to assess your case before we give you our recommendation. Then the judge is going to address bail. Whether you can go home,” he explains.
The girl’s eyes widen a trace. Still no other reaction.
“In a case like this, it’s rare to be released before trial. But you’ll be safe. You won’t be held in an adult facility, for now.”
Chris swallows at that, imagining this pretty young girl housed with the hard cases at the Union County Juvenile Detention Center, much less in the adult population at the jail.
“This is a lot to take in, I know. Do you have any questions?”
The girl shakes her head, then turns her gaze to Chris and Julia, as if deciding whether she’s satisfied with her legal team.
There’s a knock on the door.
“You ready?” Henry asks her.
Chris stands, expecting they’ll be heading to the courtroom. But in walks Judge Armstrong, wearing her robe, unusual outside the courtroom. Next to her, a fit-looking white guy with a Marine haircut. Hal Kowalski, the Union County prosecutor.
Chris understands now. Henry arranged for the arraignment to happen here, not in the courtroom. Out of the ordinary, sure. But this is no ordinary case. The judge doesn’t want a circus any more than Henry does.
Kowalski has aged since Chris first saw him all those years ago. He remembers Kowalski’s face creasing in despair when he got a look at Chris. The bruises on his arms. The scar on his hand. He’d been the one who’d taken Chris to the foster home.
“You’re not in trouble. And this has nothing to do with your brother, Christopher. It’s for your safety. We have a nice couple who you can stay with for a while till this all gets worked out with your dad.” Chris had been angry about it. Funny how that works: abused, neglected, but upset about being removed. His anger slowly faded under the tender care of Ms. May. Under the strength of Clint. Going to bed without worry of being woken by a fist.
Hal Kowalski has risen in the ranks over the years. Chris had wondered at times whether the prosecutor remembered him. Today, Kowalski doesn’t give him a second look.
The session lasts less than five minutes. Judge Armstrong denies bail without argument. And Henry doesn’t fight it. The ghost of Bartholomew H. Badcock and Vince’s case hang heavily over the room. No one will be released, only to disappear. Not this time.
When the judge and Kowalski leave the room, Henry says, “We only have a little time before they’re going to take you to the juvenile facility. We need to ask you some questions.” Henry shifts in his chair. “Remember: we are not here to judge you, and lying to us will only hurt your case.”
That isn’t necessarily true. If a defendant confesses to the crime, it constrains the defense. A lawyer can’t knowingly suborn perjury.
As if reading Chris’s mind, Henry adds, “And just so you understand the rules, we can never tell anyone what you say to us. But if you confess to something, we can’t claim innocence as a defense.” He all but winks at her as he says this. “We’ve got only a couple hours, so let’s make good use of our time.”
For the first time, Jesse Duvall speaks. “I’ll tell what happened.”
Henry looks hopeful now.
“Not to you,” Jesse adds.
Henry suppresses a frown. He gestures to Chris and Julia: “I’d be happy for you to talk to—”
“You’re not getting it,” she says, holding Henry’s gaze. “I’ll only talk to Ella Monroe.”
Henry cocks his head; clearly, he doesn’t recognize the name.