David Hosp - Among Thieves

Devon duckwalked in his shackles behind the desk. He put his fingers to his lips and made a zipping motion. “I’m keeping quiet,” he said, winking. “This is your show.”

“Good,” Finn said. “But we need to talk seriously once you’re out.”

“I know,” Devon said. “I swear, though, you’re gonna get your money. I’m not gonna leave you hangin’ out to dry on this.”

“It’s not about the money, Devon,” Finn said. “Ballick was killed last night. That makes you two for two-Ballick and Murphy. The cops want to talk to me, and I don’t know what to tell them. All I know is that I don’t like being connected to murders through one client. It means you’re either really bad luck, or you’re not telling me everything I need to know. Either way, it pisses me off.”

Finn watched as the blood drained from Devon ’s face. “Ballick?” he said. His voice had gone hoarse. “Murdered?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Murdered.”

Judge Platt shifted in his chair on the bench. “Time’s up, counsel,” he said. “Do you waive reading?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Finn said, turning to look at the judge.

Any sense of confidence that Devon had exuded when he walked into the courtroom was gone. His eyes were wheeling. “Wait, Finn, I need to think,” he whispered.

“How does your client wish to plead?” the judge asked.

“Not guilty,” Finn said.

“Finn!” Devon was hissing now, and even Judge Platt was forced to take notice.

“Counsel, please instruct your client that I will not tolerate outbursts.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Finn turned to Devon and put his hand up, making clear that it was time for him to be quiet.

“I assume you’re looking for bail, Mr. Finn?” Judge Platt continued.

“Your Honor, we would ask that the defendant be released on his own recognizance.”

“Mr. Finn has an excellent sense of humor, Your Honor,” Kelley interrupted.

“That’s true, Judge,” Finn replied, “but I don’t happen to be exercising it at the moment. My client has been a resident of this community for his entire life. He has a daughter who resides with him. This is the kind of case where no bail is required.”

“We’ve got to talk!” Devon said, louder this time, drawing another look from the judge.

Kelley used Finn’s distraction with his client to butt in and try to control the argument on bail. “Your Honor, the defendant was caught with over a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of stolen merchandise that he was loading onto a truck. To release him on O.R. would virtually guarantee that he would never be seen again. He is well known to the law enforcement community as an accomplished thief-”

“Mr. Malley has not been convicted of theft in more than twenty years,” Finn interjected.

“It’s true, it’s been a while since he was convicted of a crime,” Kelley conceded. “He has been arrested seven times in the past decade, though.”

“He was not convicted in any of those cases, Your Honor. You can’t really punish him for the overzealousness of the police department and the DA’s office, can you?”

“Your Honor, this is outrageous!” Kelley nearly shouted. “To suggest that this man is somehow a victim of the system is over the top, even for Mr. Finn.”

“Settle down, both of you,” Platt said. He waved his hand in a dismissive way, but Finn could tell he was interested in the argument. There was no way Finn was going to get Malley out on his own recognizance, but he might get bail set lower than normal. “He has a daughter?” Platt asked.

“He does, Your Honor,” Finn said. “She’s fourteen and she’s living with him.”

“Where is she staying at the moment?”

“For the past two nights she has stayed with me, Your Honor.” He laced his fingers in front of him and looked down, adopting the posture of an altar boy. “She has no relatives, and with Mr. Malley in jail there have been few options.” He was selling now, and he was hoping Platt was in a buying mood. “Mr. Malley’s primary concern at the moment is to make sure that he is there for his little girl.”

“Oh, please,” Kelley objected, rolling her eyes. “If Mr. Malley is such a model parent, why did he spend last Sunday night out in the Back Bay ripping off a boutique? This man is a real flight risk, Your Honor.”

“You really think he’s going to abandon his daughter?” Finn asked.

“Mr. Finn makes some good points,” Platt said to Kelley. “I’m not sure I should penalize him for arrests where no convictions were ultimately obtained. He also does have strong roots in the community, including a daughter who resides with him.” He paused, then turned to the clerk. “Can I see Mr. Malley’s file?”

Finn turned to Devon and nodded reassuringly. He’d done his job well and he knew it. He was expecting a grateful acknowledgment in Devon ’s eyes in return. To his surprise, however, his client’s face betrayed a mixture of fear and frustration. Devon turned toward him, dipping his shoulder down and leaning his head down. Assuming Devon wanted to whisper to him, Finn leaned in as well.

Devon punched him in the face. Hard.

It was an excellent shot, made more effective by the fact that Finn had stuck out his chin in order to listen to his client. He was off balance, and the blow was completely unexpected. As Finn started to fall, he tripped over the chair behind him, overturning it. That sent him sprawling to the floor, nearly smashing his head on the banister that separated the front of the courtroom from the gallery.

There was a moment of silence in the courtroom, followed by pandemonium. The bailiffs were running at Devon, their nightsticks drawn, and Devon was ducking down, trying to shield his head. It wasn’t easy with the chains and cuffs around his body. It took only a moment before two other bailiffs were on top of him, pummeling Devon.

“Okay! Okay! Okay!” Devon screamed as he fought to fend off the blows. It was useless, though, and Finn saw several solid shots land on his arms and back. Then they had him on his feet, and they scurried him out of the courtroom, his feet dangling off the ground as four bailiffs carried him.

The din died almost as quickly as it had started once he was gone. Finn got to his feet, rubbing his chin. He looked at the judge, unsure what to say. Kelley recovered more quickly than he did.

“Your Honor, the Commonwealth opposes bail in any amount,” she said simply. Finn could see the smirk on her face.

“Judge,” Finn began. He wasn’t sure where to go from there. “I would like to point out-”

“Save it, Mr. Finn,” Platt said. “Bail is denied.”

“But Your Honor,” Finn protested.

“Enough, Mr. Finn!” Platt thundered. It was the first time Finn could remember Platt ever raising his voice. “If Mr. Malley would like to make bail, he will have to come in here and apologize and show me that he can behave like a civilized person. Even then, I will have to consider whether or not to grant bail in any amount. Until then, he stays locked up!”

Finn rubbed his jaw. He could feel the swelling. The judge just looked at him, daring him to say anything. Finn was the one who had been assaulted, yet the judge was just as angry at him as he was at Devon. Finn wasn’t surprised. The feeling among judges, prosecutors, police, and much of the public was that defense lawyers deserve whatever clients they take on. In fairness, Finn wasn’t sure they were wrong.

He looked up at Platt and swallowed hard. “Yes, Your Honor,” he said. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Gavin Middle School in South Boston looked like every other school in Boston built in the first half of the twentieth century. It was a two-story brick-and-cement structure next to the Church of St. Mary on Dorchester Street, on the edge of Dorchester Heights. It had fallen into squalor in the latter half of the century, and sections of it were now roped off with bright orange safety netting. It was bordered on three sides by dilapidated residential housing the color of dirt and depression. The pointing between the bricks on the school’s exterior was chipping, causing the corners to sag wearily.