Bank Job (12 page)

I took my time plodding down the stairs. Then I plunked the box on the table.

Janice looked inside, gasped, and then put the lid back on like it was full of deadly tarantulas.

By the time Joseph got home, Janice had a good idea of what had happened, so she explained it to him.

Joseph looked at Tom, then me and Billy, his kind face baffled, disappointed.

“Just how many banks did you rob?”

“Six,” I said.

“Seven,” said Billy, “if you include one failure.”

Joseph's eyes popped. “Seven! How? How could three kids manage to rob seven banks and not get caught? I don't believe it!”

Tom told all.

Janice was struggling to hold back tears.

They listened. They didn't interrupt. When Tom had finished, Joseph asked, “But why? Why would you kids ever do such a crazy stupid thing?”

I said, “Because we don't want to leave here. Don't ever want to leave you and Janice.”

Joseph frowned. “I don't get it.”

“The money was for a new bathroom,” I burst out. “We had no other choice.”

Janice murmured faintly, “New bathroom?”

By now, what with my headache and running nose, and the horrible way I was feeling about disappointing Janice and Joseph, I couldn't stop the tears.

“That's why we needed ten grand,” I cried. “We had this great system going. We would never get caught if Tom hadn't blabbed. We were going to get enough money to pay for the bathroom so none of us would have to leave.”

Joseph shook his head. His voice rose. “Do you kids realize how dangerous it is to rob a bank?”

He got up from the table and started pacing, trying to control his anger. “You could be gunned down by security,” he said. “You could be killed! And other people in the bank could be killed! For what? For a few lousy dollars?”

We all watched him. Nobody said a thing.

“Madness!” cried Joseph. “Were you on drugs?” He looked at me.

I shook my head. “No.”

“We don't do drugs,” said Billy. “You know that.”

“I don't know anything,” said Joseph. “Not after this, I don't!”

Janice said, “Take it easy, Joe.”

Finally, he cooled down, stopped pacing and looked at each of us in turn—me, Billy, Tom—his face grim.

“You know what we've got to do, don't you?”

“What?” I said through my tissues and tears.

“Call the police of course,” said Joseph.

Tom's head snapped up. “Why can't you just punish us? We're just kids. We can't go to jail,” he said.

“We've got no choice. Robbery is a crime, you know that. Crimes must be reported to the police. What did you think would happen?” Joseph asked him, amazed.

“I thought you'd just take the money and get the friggin' bathroom.”

“We couldn't do that. It's stolen money. We could never use stolen money. Don't you see that?”

We sat there silent for a minute while the truth of what Joseph said sunk in.

Joseph gave a deep sigh. “You kids haven't thought this through very well, have you?” he said, reaching for the phone.

I dried my eyes with bunched tissues. “Wait,” I said. “What if we turn ourselves in? What then?”

Joseph looked at Janice desperately.

“It would keep you and Janice out of it,” I said to Joseph. “None of it is your fault.”

“We don't want to be kept out of it,” said Janice. “It is our fault. We knew something was going on, but we didn't know what. We should have asked more questions. I blame myself.”

Joseph hung up the phone.

“I'm not turning myself in!” Tom said. “No friggin' way!”

Janice got up from the table and started filling the kettle. We all watched her in silence. She plugged in the kettle, and then turned to face us. “Turn yourselves in or…”

We waited.

“Or we call the police.” Joseph finished. “Now.”

Head pounding, eyes watering, I said, “Don't worry, Janice. We'll do it.”

Joseph said, “I'll drive you over there.”

I looked at Billy. Billy put a hand on Tom's shoulder. Tom took a deep breath, and then he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Let's do it.”

“No,” I said. “You can trust us. We'll SkyTrain over.”

I dragged myself upstairs to the shower.

TWENTY-ONE

I felt better after the hot shower and dry clothes. I emptied the money from the shoe box into the shopping bag and we SkyTrained downtown to the police station.

We were the Three Musketeers, together still, even though our secret was out, even though Tom had ratted us out.

It was funny, but I was feeling relieved, almost glad, and so was Tom. I could see it in his face. The crime spree was over. He hadn't cracked his knuckles once since his confession.

I wasn't sure about Billy, but I thought he might be looking forward to the new adventure that would come once the police had their hands on us. It was odd, and I didn't understand it, but it was like an unspoken agreement kept us together to face this next challenge: the law.

I'd never been in a police station before, not that I could remember anyway.

I sneaked a look at Billy's calm face and wondered if he knew something about police stations.

There were a bunch of people milling about at a high counter. Staffing the counter were two police officers in blue uniform shirts, no hats. Behind the counter, two more police officers sat at a table, one writing, the other talking on the phone.

We sat on a bench at the back of the room and waited for the hubbub to die down.

After most of the people were gone one of the police officers noticed us. “You waiting to see someone?” He was an older man, with thin gray hair and a ginger, nicotine-stained mustache.

I stepped forward. Billy and Tom followed. The counter came up to my nose. “We've come to confess,” I told him.

Billy nodded. “We're turning ourselves in,” he said.

Tom cracked his knuckles.

The officer smiled. “Oh, yes? Robbed a bank then, have we?”

“Six,” I said.

“Seven,” said Billy.

The officer turned to his partner, laughing. “You hear that, Beckett? These kids robbed banks.” He pointed. “She robbed six and he robbed seven.”

“Thirteen!” his partner cried.

“No,” said Tom “seven in total.”

“Oh, well now, seven's not so bad.” He laughed.

I held up my bag. “And we're returning the money.”

The officer named Beckett took the bag and looked inside. He did a good imitation of fish eyes. “Well, I'll be…!”

The first officer looked in the bag. His grin disappeared. Fish eyes again. “How much money is in here?”

I shrugged. The total wasn't important. Why didn't they arrest us and get it over with?

“Stay right there,” Beckett told us. He picked up a phone and spoke into it. Then he hung up and stared at us, shaking his head. “Come with me.”

We followed him along a corridor to a door marked “Chief Inspector Teal.” Beckett knocked on the door before pushing it open. Chief Inspector Teal was wearing a dark suit with a green tie. He got up from his desk as we entered. “Sit down,” he said. “Could you bring an extra chair, Beckett?”

Officer Beckett put the bag on the Chief Inspector's desk and left. Seconds later, he was back with a chair.

We sat facing the Chief Inspector's desk. Billy was on one side of me, Tom was on the other.

Officer Beckett left again.

“Now what's this all about? You robbed some banks, is that right?” The Chief Inspector used the friendly tone adults often use for children. He smiled at us the way a fond father smiles at clever but naughty kiddies.

I pointed to the bag on the desk. “The money we stole is there, every penny.”

The Chief Inspector looked in the bag and then emptied it onto his desk. The bills fell out, and formed a paper mountain in the middle of the desk. A few of them fluttered to the floor.

The Chief Inspector's jaw dropped. He stared at us. Then he stared at the money. He stared at us again. He picked up the telephone. “Beckett? Bring in our most recent files on bank robberies, will you!”

Chief Inspector Teal and another plain-clothes detective named Sergeant Finch asked a hundred questions, recording our replies on tape.

I thought the questions would never end, but eventually they did. They took us home in a police cruiser. Then they interviewed Joseph and Janice in the living room for almost two hours.

About ten days later, a summons arrived in the mail, ordering us to appear in the juvenile court the following week.

TWENTY-TWO

MAY 22

The judge was a woman with a long narrow nose. She listened to an energetic young man in a gray suit and red tie describe the criminal offences. She watched the shadowy security videos from two of the banks. I could barely make out Billy leaving the bank. It didn't look like him. It could have been anyone wearing glasses and a ball cap.

Then the judge listened to our court-appointed defense counsel, Miss Farthingale, who looked only a few years older than me. She had blonde hair to her shoulders and a swishy black suit. She had come to the house a few days ago, asking us more questions.

Miss Farthingale told the judge about the bathroom problem. “The three young defendants, Your Honor, were trying to raise money to have an extra bathroom installed so they would not have to leave their foster home. You see, Your Honor, regulations demand at least two full bathrooms in a house with four children. These children are very close. They did not want to see their family broken up. Staying together was worth any sacrifice to them.

“I would also point out, Your Honor, that the defendants used no weapons of any kind during the robberies. They meant no harm and they deeply regret their actions. The children, the defendants, turned themselves in and returned all the stolen money. Not one penny is missing, Your Honor. One final point, Your Honor: the children saw their cause as a noble one.”

“They saw robbing banks as a noble cause?” asked the judge, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Your Honor,” said Miss Farthingale firmly. “A noble cause indeed. Their intent was to ensure the survival of their family, a family that provides them with love and a sense of belonging, as well as security, all so critically important for young people today. Wouldn't you agree, Your Honor?”

“Hmmph!” said the judge.

Miss Farthingale said, “Your Honor, if the British Columbian social services system were doing its job of looking after the welfare of needy children in this province, there would have been no need for the three defendants to rob banks in the first place.”

“They could have been killed or seriously injured,” the judge said. “If a security guard or a police officer had started shooting, innocent bystanders might have come to harm as well. Robbing banks is an extremely dangerous game, weapons or not, noble or not.” She glared at us from her throne.

I glared back.

Billy looked like he was enjoying himself. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. Tom was back to cracking his knuckles.

The judge adjourned the case for a week.

A week later, Joseph, Janice and we three delinquents were back in juvenile court. We sat behind a table and waited for the judge to announce her decision.

“First of all,” she said, “I want to commend the three of you for your obvious concern for your foster parents, Janice and Joseph Hardy. It reflects well on them as caregivers. Your aim in committing these robberies was to help them. I fully understand that. I also understand that your aim was to help yourselves. You did not want to be taken away from the home and the people you love.

“What I do not understand is why the Hardys' home, which has an excellent history of helping young people, does not receive more support. It is homes like the Hardys' that are so successful in keeping our youth off the streets by providing a safe and nurturing environment.

“I asked my staff to look into the matter, and I can tell you now that emergency funds have been found. The funds to build the extra facility will be provided within the next few months.” She paused.

I grinned at her. “Your Honor, does this mean that we won't have to move?”

“Ssshhh,” Miss Farthingale, whispered. “Her Honor is still speaking.”

The judge said, “Yes, young lady. That is precisely what it means.”

I turned to my musketeers and we exchanged smiles of relief. I felt like jumping up and yelling “Three cheers for Her Honor the judge,” right there in the courtroom. I forced myself to be still and quiet.

“Now I will speak of the charges,” said the judge, looking at us over her glasses. “Bank robbery is a serious crime. The three of you confessed to the police that you committed seven robberies. You have returned all the money. But you endangered and terrorized the lives of many innocent people. Therefore, you must be punished. You must be made to understand that breaking the law has consequences—
severe
consequences. Nell Ford, Billy Galloway and Tom Okada, please stand.”

We stood, shoulder to shoulder like the Three Musketeers.

I felt as if we were about to be given the death sentence.

The judge took a deep breath. “I have no other choice but to deal with you firmly. I hereby sentence each of you to twenty-eight days in the Vancouver Juvenile Detention Home, starting at the end of the school year, on July third. At the conclusion of your sentence, you will perform three hundred hours of community service. At the rate of ten hours a week, it will take seven months for you to work it off, one month for each bank you terrorized.”

When we got outside in the hallway with Joseph and Janice, I didn't know whether to feel depressed or excited. I said to them, “They'll give you enough money to install the extra bathroom. Now none of us will have to move out, right?”