Damaged (36 page)

“It was a pleasure, really.” John smiled, warmly.

“And Abby, I know you're in there fighting with me and I know you feel the same way I do. Your dedication is incredible. Thank you very much.”

“I'm happy to do it, and I'm really hoping we win, for Patrick's sake. I'm pitching for you, believe me.” Abby grinned. “Fingers crossed.”

“Right.” Mary crossed her fingers.

John's smile faded. “Well, we left it on the field, as they say.”

“Right.” Mary felt the same way. “Does it mean anything that the judge is going to rule from the bench, so quickly?”

“No, it doesn't. Judges at shelter care hearings usually rule from the bench.”

Abby nodded. “It's not like they have to go to chambers and get a clerk to research precedent.”

Mary felt suddenly tired, taking an empty chair at the table. “So what do you think, folks? Do we have a shot? Is it slim to none?”

John shook his head. “We have a shot. But I would say it's slim, if I were a gambling man.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “You, a gambling man? You're the most careful lawyer I know. I mean, do you even cross the street on a yellow light?”

“How dare you.” John snorted. “But, no.”

Abby shifted her animated gaze to Mary, when her smile vanished, too. “Mary, I wish I could make you feel better. I think we'll probably lose today but I think we will win in ten days. That said, you did great on the stand and if you do that in ten days, we'll win at the adjudication hearing. Patrick can make it ten days, if we both visit him and watch over him.”

“I hope he can.” Mary wanted to believe Abby was right, but just then she noticed John looking past her out the window, squinting.

“That's funny,” he said, pointing. “Who are
they
? Those people look crazy.”

Abby did the same thing, amused. “How did they get past security?”

Mary turned around and saw who they were talking about, and in one second, she was on her feet and running out of the room. She hustled forward as every head turned, watching the scene. Her father was hurrying toward the courtroom, still in his multicolored sash from the Columbus Day Parade, with her mother hanging onto his arm and hobbling along in her orthopedic shoes, followed by Feet in a
KISS ME, I'M ITALIAN
baseball cap and Tony-From-Down-The-Block in a T-shirt that read,
LEIF WHO
? Pigeon Tony brought up the rear, scurrying in his white shirt, green work pants, and jaunty red kerchief, which looked like his Columbus Day attire but was in fact what he wore every day.

“HIYA, MARE!” her father shouted, his lined face lighting up. “WE'RE HERE TO PICK UP PATRICK! WHERE IS HE? WE'RE GONNA HAVE A PARTY! YOUR MOTHER MADE GNOCCHI!”

“
Maria, Maria!
” her mother chimed in. “I'm a so happ', so happ'!”

“Hi, Ma, Pop, this is a surprise.” Mary kissed her mother and father quickly, then Feet joined the huddle, smelling of pepper-and-egg sandwiches.

“Mare, we're so excited! We're gonna drive him home in the car! It's got the streamers on and all! He'll be ridin' in style!”

“Mare, look!” Tony-From-Down-The-Block waved a plastic bag. “I got him a Columbus Day T-shirt and a cap!”

“Ma, Pop, Tonys, listen.” Mary tried to prepare them for bad news. “It's really nice of you to come downtown but—”

“WE LOOKED IT UP ON THE INTERNET, THAT'S HOW WE FOUND YOU. IT HAD YOUR NAME, RIGHT ON THE COMPUTER!”

Mary touched her father's arm. “Pop, but really, listen to me. The judge is deciding what to do now and he might not go our way. He may not give us Patrick. In fact, he probably won't.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Her father's milky eyes flared in outrage behind his bifocals. “WHY NOT, MARE? YOU'D BE A GREAT MOM! WE'D BE GREAT GRANDPARENTS!”

“
Maria, e vero?
” her mother said, her voice hushed with disappointment.

Feet scowled. “We want Patrick! I'll give that judge a piece of my mind!”

“Me too!” Tony-From-Down-The-Block lumbered toward the courtroom door.

“No, guys!” Mary hurried and stopped them. “Guys, you can't, please. Stay here and wait for me.”

“BUT MARE, IF THE JUDGE MET US, HE'D GIVE PATRICK TO US. HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW US. HE NEEDS TO MEET OUR FAMILY.”

“Pop, no.” Mary didn't have time to explain. “It's not about you or me. It's about the law.”

John hurried over with Abby, stepping into the breach. “Hello, Mr. DiNunzio, Mrs. DiNunzio, I'm John and this is Abby, we work with Mary. We have to go into the courtroom, right now. The judge is waiting—”

“GOOD, GREAT, PERFECT TIMING! LET'S GO!” Her father barreled ahead, but Mary blocked his path.

“Pop, no, you can't go in the courtroom. You're not allowed.”

“WHY NOT? THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY.”

“Pop, these proceedings are confidential.” Mary backed up against the door to the courtroom, holding them off, then turned to her mother, usually the more sensible. “Ma, tell Pop and The Tonys, you have to wait there. I'll get in trouble if anybody tries to go in the courtroom.”

“
Si, si, Maria
.” Her mother said, teary, which broke Mary's heart. Mary wished she had prepared them for the fact that she could lose, but as John said, she hadn't seen any of this coming.

“Mom, if we don't get Patrick today, we'll try again in ten days. Okay?”

“Mary, please?” John motioned to her toward the courtroom and held open the door.

Mary turned back to her mother. “Ma, now I have to do my job. Let me go inside and see what the judge decided, then I'll come out and tell you. Try not to be upset if I lose, okay?”

“
Si, si,
” her mother answered, her eyes glistening and her lower lip puckering.

“WE'LL WAIT HERE, DOLL.” Her father hugged her mother close.

Tony-From-Down-The-Block nodded. “Whatever you want, Mare.”

Feet shrugged. “You're the boss, Mare.”

“Great, thanks. Stay here. Don't come in.” Mary hustled into the courtroom behind John and Abby, just as the administrative clerk was hanging up the phone.

“Counsel, take your seats. The judge is on his way in.”

“Sorry.” Mary hustled to stand in front of her seat at counsel table next to John and Abby. Chan-Willig, Olivia, and Harris were already standing in place.

“Hear, hear! Please rise for the Honorable Judge William R. Green. This Honorable Court is now in session!”

Everyone stood up, the pocket door opened, and Judge Green entered the courtroom and swept up the steps of the dais. He glanced around without making eye contact, his expression solemn. “Please, sit down.”

Mary took her seat, put her parents to the back of her mind, and focused on the judge, coming fully into the moment. She was always nervous when a judge came back with a ruling or a jury returned with a verdict, but she'd never felt like this before. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel blotches bursting into bloom onto her neck.

Judge Green said, “Folks, this was not an easy decision to make. However, I have made a decision, and as is my custom, I will deliver my ruling and then briefly explain my reasons. Ms. Chan-Willig and Mr. Foxman presented their cases in a very compelling fashion and I was able to consider the evidence as a totality. I took into account the testimony from professionals whose experience affords them ample basis for their opinions, Detective Randolph, Ms. Solo, Mr. Harris, and Ms. Ortega, as well as Ms. DiNunzio. It is clear to me that everyone who testified has the best interests of Patrick at heart, even though they differ on what his best interest may be.”

Mary bit her lip, her mouth gone dry as paper. She wasn't thinking of herself or even her parents. If Judge Green went against her, they would live with the decision. The only one who couldn't live with that decision was Patrick.

Judge Green continued, “I am mindful that leaving Patrick in the custody of the foster care system may be as fraught with risk as transferring his custody to Ms. DiNunzio, given his challenges. I also applaud Ms. DiNunzio, who has unselfishly volunteered to help a child in need. Simply put, there is no perfect solution. But in consideration of the relevant facts and governing law, I have decided that Patrick O'Brien should remain in DHS custody at the present time. Therefore, I hereby grant DHS's Petition to Retain Custody in the Matter of P.O.B., and I hereby deny Ms. DiNunzio's Petition in Opposition.” Judge Green banged the gavel. “So ordered.”

Mary felt a wave of despair wash over her.

Judge Green banged the gavel, one last time. “Court is adjourned.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Mary gathered her purse and messenger bag and walked down the aisle of the courtroom ahead of Abby and John, letting them stop to shake Chan-Willig's hand. Mary wasn't here as a lawyer, but a client, and she would be damned if she'd shake Chan-Willig's hand. She felt heartbroken for Patrick, for herself, and for her family, and she couldn't bear to think of him in the foster system, unjustly suspected of murdering a grandfather he loved and sabotaged by the machinations of Machiavelli.

Mary reached the exit door to the courtroom and held her chin up, getting herself ready to see her parents. If she looked upset it would only upset them more and she had to keep it together for everybody's sake. She opened the door and stepped outside the courtroom, only to see her family clustered together on the seats, a forlorn little group of octogenarians in parade gear, trying to put on a brave face for her.

They rose as one sad little clump when Mary walked over, meeting her mother's glistening eyes. Her mother had already figured out that the judge had ruled against them, so Mary raised her arms and hugged her, enveloping her short little mother in an embrace fragrant with her familiar smells of Aquanet and mothballs.

“I'm sorry too.” Mary managed not to cry. “I shouldn't have gotten you all excited.”

“
Mi dispiace, Maria,
” her mother said, hugging her back.

“IT'S OKAY, HONEY. IT'S GONNA BE ALL RIGHT. EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON.” Her father came around Mary's other side, patting her back. “COME HOME AND HAVE DINNER WITH US, WILL YA?”

“Good idea,” Mary said, grateful. She felt so touched that they had come all the way into Center City to stand up for her. She realized that it really did take a village, and she was grateful to her very marrow for hers. She felt terrible for letting them down, as well as Patrick.

Feet nodded. “Mare, don't let the bastards get you down. We'll give you a ride home with us. Cheer you right up.”

Tony-From-Down-The-Block forced a smile. “Yeah, Mare, come with us. You'll feel like a million bucks in that car.”

Only Pigeon Tony said nothing, his round dark eyes meeting Mary's with unusual seriousness, and she couldn't help but think he was reading her mind. In the next second, he shot her a wink, just like a bird.

John and Abby came out of the courtroom talking, and Abby waved a quick good-bye to Mary, who waved back while John came over, his heavy messenger bag on his shoulder, scrolling through his phone, then he looked up. “Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. DiNunzio. We gave it the old college try.”

“IT ISN'T YOUR FAULT, JOHNNY BOY. YOU'RE A HELLUVA LAWYER. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING.”

“John, you come to dinn',” Mary's mother said, taking John's arm and looking up at him through her thick glasses. “We have gnocchi, you come, eh?”

John smiled down at her, but shook his head. “Mrs. DiNunzio, thank you, and I would love to, but I have a lot to do.”

“
D'ove?
Where?” Her mother's expression said that she couldn't imagine a better place than her kitchen, which was probably true.

“Ma.” Mary put a gentle hand on her mother's arm. “Not everybody can be bribed with carbohydrates, like me. John has to go.”

John waved his phone. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. Email, you know. I'm sorry.”

“Ma, please. It's John's business.” Mary put an arm around her mother. “Let's go downstairs. Come on.”

“This way, everyone.” John walked ahead, motioning to them as he read his phone on the fly.

“Thanks, John.” Mary got her family on to the escalator, holding her mother's arm, then her father and The Tonys climbed on, yammering as they descended.

“MARE, YOU BELIEVE THIS BUILDING? IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A COURTHOUSE BECAUSE IT'S ALL GLASS.”

“Also, no columns,” Feet added, eyes agog.

Tony-From-Down-The-Block
tsk-tsk
ed with his dentures. “If it doesn't have columns, it's not a legit courthouse.”

They reached the ground floor, where the black-marble lobby was emptying, lawyers, clients, and staff heading for the exits. John got off the escalator first, then looked up from his phone with an alarmed expression, but Mary didn't know why. She ushered her mother, father, and The Tonys off the escalator and shooed them in the direction of the exit.

“John, what's the matter?” Mary asked, concerned.

“Look at this.” John showed her his phone and enlarged the image with his fingers. On the screen was a news story from the digital edition of their local tabloid, and the headline read:
TEN-YEAR-OLD SUSPECTED OF GRANDPOP'S INSULIN MURDER.

“Oh my God!” Mary looked up at John, aghast. “Machiavelli must've leaked it to the newspaper.”

John nodded, gravely. “Either Machiavelli or Harris, one or the other.”

“If Harris leaked it, he did it on Machiavelli's behalf,” Mary said, then read the article:

Patrick O'Brien, 10, a fifth-grader at Grayson Elementary School in Juniata, is currently in DHS custody, suspected in the insulin murder of his grandfather and sole caretaker, Edward F. O'Brien, 72. Grandfather and grandson resided alone together at 637 Moretone Street in Juniata, and the grandfather was found dead on October 9. Police report that the investigation is in progress and criminal charges have not yet been filed. The Office of the Medical Examiner declined comment.