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It was as if they were trying to convince themselves that this clean-cut young man was really involved in such a nasty business.
The subsequent witnesses were dry compared to the dashing detective. A crime-scene tech showed some photos that had been taken of Brian on the street, and a lab tech explained how the pills and meth were tested.
Compared to a homicide case, this was easy. And these guys got paid the same as I did.
Brian’s defense attorney hit the lab tech with a barrage of questions, but she couldn’t shake the professional young woman. The lawyer questioned the tests performed on the drugs and the chain of custody. Every lawyer did that. This was her only shot. There was no way she would let Brian on the stand, and she didn’t have many witnesses of her own.
Seamus asked me questions during the entire process. The usual things someone might ask. “How do we know the narc is telling the truth?” “Is the judge going to be fair?” “Is Ms. Ibarra the best possible attorney?”
Eventually I groaned in frustration.
Then he asked me a realistic question. “When do we get to talk?”
I considered it.
Finally, I said, “We aren’t witnesses. If he has to be sentenced, then we can talk. Maybe then that collar of yours will come in handy.”
Seamus looked at me with clear eyes and said, “And maybe my faith will come in handier.”
I had been put in my place.
Chapter 16
By the next morning at ten o’clock, the prosecution had rested. Ms. Ibarra called an expert to the stand to refute the lab findings. He explained that because of the nature of homemade hallucinogens, there was no way to determine exactly what effect they would have on people. He tried to question whether what Brian was selling were actually drugs.
It had little effect on the case. The jury looked unimpressed.
My last hope lay in the closing arguments. The ADA closed with a simple and powerful comment. “It doesn’t matter what someone looks like. Anyone can be a drug dealer. Black, white, rich, or poor. The temptation of money is just too strong. And the effects of drug use on our city and in our society cannot be denied. The case against Brian Bennett is clear
and convincing. Please consider everything you have seen and heard.”
Brian’s lawyer was equally eloquent, but without nearly as much to work with. She said, “The prosecution wants you to think that this schoolboy is some kind of a drug mastermind. They want you to think that he is solely responsible for the destruction of Western civilization. I want you to think about what really happened.” She turned and pointed at Brian, sitting quietly at the table. His hands still folded in front of him. The lawyer continued, “I want you to ask yourself if you really think Brian Bennett is a threat to society. I think we can all agree there are much bigger dangers out there.”
That was a desperate trick I’d seen defense attorneys use when there was nothing to their case. They would deflect the question and suggest the crime was victimless. Today I agreed with the defense. There really were bigger threats in the world than my son.
Then it was done. The judge issued stern instructions to the jury. The bailiff made a few short announcements. The jury retired and filed out of the courtroom.
And I just sat there, considering the worst. Praying for a miracle. I noticed my grandfather doing the same thing. It’s odd, but for some reason, even after he became a priest, I never considered Seamus devout. His jokes and mischief always made it feel like he was playing a role. His vestments were just a costume. But today I saw his faith. Raw and powerful. He had a certain intensity I had never really noticed before. And he loved his family.
After the courtroom had cleared, the three of us walked together out to the hallway. No one felt like eating lunch. Mary Catherine and I left Seamus on a bench in front of the courtroom, where he found no rest. Every third person who passed him asked for a word or a blessing.
God bless my grandfather. He didn’t refuse a soul. Despite his own personal pain, he took the time to help others. He was like an entirely different person from the one who caused trouble at my house on a regular basis.
A young Muslim woman wearing a hijab stopped, kneeled next to him, and asked for his prayers.
Seamus said, “Are you of the faith, my daughter?”
She looked at him with wide, dark eyes and said, “I believe in God.”
Seamus smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and said, “That’s all anyone could ask.”
That made the woman smile.
It made me smile, too.
Chapter 17
We were called back into the courtroom almost before the lunch hour was over. How was that possible? How had the jurors come to a verdict so quickly? They had only spent around forty minutes deliberating.
