"And according to Foltrigg and Fink, what are Mark's sins?" Harry snatched two tissues from a drawer and blew his nose. He smiled at her again. "He can't keep quiet, Reggie. If he knows something, he must tell them. You know that.", "You're assuming he knows something." "I'm not assuming anything. The petition makes certain allegations, and these allegations are based partly on fact and partly on assumption. Same as all petitions, I guess. Wouldn't you say? We never know the truth until we have the hearing." "How much of Slick Moeller's crap do you believe?" "I believe nothing, Reggie, until it is told to me, under oath, in my courtroom, and then I believe about ten percent of it." There was a long pause as the judge debated whether to ask the question. "So, Reggie, what does the kid know?" "You know it's privileged, Harry." He smiled. -"So, he knows more than he should." "You could say that." "If it's crucial to the investigation, Reggie, then he must tell." "What if he refuses?" "I don't know. We'll deal with that when it happens. How smart is this kid?" "Very. Broken home, no father, working mother, grew up on the streets. The usual. I talked to his fifth-grade teacher yesterday, and he makes all A's except for math. He's very bright, besides being street smart." "No prior trouble." "None. He's a great kid, Harry. Remarkable, really." "Most of your clients are remarkable, Reggie." "This one is special. He's here through no fault of his own." "I hope he'll be fully advised by his lawyer. The hearing could get rough." "Most of my clients are fully advised." "They certainly are." There was a brief knock at the door and Marcia appeared. "Your client is here, Reggie. Witness Room C." "Thanks." She stood and walked to the door. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Harry." "Yes. Listen to me. I'm tough on kids who don't obey me." "I know."
HE SAT IN A CHAIR LEANING AGAINST THE WALL WITH HIS arms folded across his chest and a frustrated look on his face. He'd been treated like a convict for three hours now, and he was getting used to it. He felt safe. He hadn't been beaten by the cops or by his fellow inmates.
The room was tiny with no windows and bad lighting. Reggie entered and moved a folding chair near him. She'd been in this room under these circumstances many times. He smiled at her, obviously relieved.
"So how's jail?" she asked.
"They haven't fed me yet. Can we sue them?" "Maybe. How's Doreen, the lady with the keys?" "A real snot. How do you know her?" "I've been there many times, Mark. It's my job. Her husband is serving thirty years in prison for bank robbery." "Good. I'll ask her about him if I see her again. Am I going back there, Reggie? I'd like to know what's going on, you know." "Well, it's very simple. We'll have a hearing before Judge Harry Roosevelt in a few moments, in his courtroom, that may last a couple of hours. The U. S. attorney and the FBI are claiming you possess important information, and I think we can expect them to ask the judge to make you talk." "Can the judge make me talk?" Reggie was speaking very slowly and carefully. He was an eleven-year-old child, a smart one with plenty of street sense, but she'd seen many like him and knew that at this moment he was nothing but a scared little boy. He might hear her words, and he might not. Or, he might hear what he wanted to hear, so she had to be careful.
"No one can make you talk." "Good." "But the judge can put you back in the same little room if you don't talk." "Back in jail!" "That's right." "I don't understand. I haven't done a damned thing wrong, and I'm in jail. I just don't understand this." "It's very simple. If, and I emphasize the word if, Judge Roosevelt instructs you to answer certain questions, and if you refuse, then he can hold you in contempt of court for not answering, for disobeying him. Now, I've never known an eleven-year-old kid to be held in contempt, but if you were an adult and you refused to answer the judge's questions, then you'd go to jail for contempt." "But I'm a kid." "Yes, but I don't think he'll allow you to go free if you refuse to answer the questions. You see, Mark, the law is very clear in this area. A person who has knowledge of information crucial to a criminal investigation cannot withhold this information because he feels threatened. In other words, you can't keep quiet because you're afraid of what might happen to you or your family." "That's a stupid law." "I don't really agree with it either, but that's not important. It is the law, and there are no exceptions, not even for kids." "So I get thrown in jail for contempt?" "It's very possible." "Can we sue the judge, or do something else to get me out?" "No. You can't sue the judge. And Judge Roosevelt is a very good and fair man." "I can't wait to meet him." "It won't be long now." Mark thought about all this. His chair rocked methodically against the wall. "How long would I be in jail?" "Assuming, of course, you're sent there, probably until you decide to comply with the judge's orders. Until you talk." "Okay. What if I decide not to talk. How long will I stay in jail? A month? A year? Ten years?" "I can't answer that, Mark. No one knows." "The judge doesn't know?" "No. If he sends you to jail for contempt, I doubt if he has any idea how long he'll make you stay." Another long pause. He'd spent three hours in Doreen's little room, and it wasn't such a bad place. He'd seen movies about prison in which gangs fought and rampaged and homemade weapons were used to kill snitches. Guards tortured inmates. Inmates attacked each other. Hollywood at its finest. But this place wasn't so bad.
And look at the alternative. With no place to call home, the Sway family now lived in Room 943 of St. Peter's Charity Hospital. But the thought of Ricky and his mother all alone and struggling without him was unbearable. "Have you talked to my mother?" he asked.
"No, not yet. I will after the hearing." "I'm worried about Ricky." "Do you want your mother present in the courtroom when we have this hearing? She needs to be here." "No. She's got enough stuff on her mind. You and I can handle this mess." She touched his knee, and •wanted to cry. Someone knocked on the door, and she said loudly, "Just a minute." "The judge is ready," came the reply.
Mark breathed deeply and stared at her hand on his knee. "Can I just take the Fifth Amendment?" "No. It won't work, Mark. I've already thought about it. The questions will not be asked to incriminate you. They will be asked for the purpose of gathering information you may have." "I don't understand." "I don't blame you. Listen to me carefully, Mark. I'll try to explain it. They want to know what Jerome Clifford told you before he died. They will ask you some very specific questions about the events immediately before the suicide. They will ask you what, if anything, Clifford told you about Senator Boyette. Nothing you tell them with your answers will in any way incriminate you in the murder of Senator Boyette. Understand? You had nothing to do with it. And, you had nothing to do with the suicide of Jerome Clifford. You broke no laws, okay? You're not a suspect in any crime or wrongdoing. Your answers cannot incriminate you. So, you cannot hide under the protection of the Fifth Amendment." She paused and watched him closely. "Understand?" "No. If I didn't do anything wrong, why was I picked up by the cops and taken to jail? Why am I sitting here waiting for a hearing?" "You're here because they think you know something valuable, and because, as I stated, every person has a duty to assist law enforcement officials in the course of their investigation." "I still say it's a stupid law." "Maybe so. But we can't change it today." He rocked forward and set the chair on all fours. "I need to know something, Reggie. Why can't I just tell them I know nothing? Why can't I say that me and old Romey talked about suicide and going to heaven and hell, you know, stuff like that." "Tell lies?" "Yeah. It'll work, you know. Nobody knows the truth but Romey, me, and you. Right? And Romey, bless his heart, ain't talking." "You can't lie in court, Mark." She said this with all the sincerity she could muster. Hours of sleep had been lost trying to formulate the answer to this inevitable question. She wanted so badly to say "Yes! That's it! Lie, Mark, lie!" Her stomach ached and her hands almost shook, but she held firm. "I cannot allow you to lie to the court. You'll be under oath, so you must tell the truth." "Then it was a mistake to hire you, wasn't it?" "I don't think so." "Sure it was. You're making me tell the truth, and in this case the truth might get me killed. If you weren't around, I'd march in there and lie my little butt off and me and Mom and Ricky would all be safe." "You can fire me if you like. The court will appoint another lawyer." He stood and walked to the darkest corner of the room, and began crying. She watched his head sink and his shoulders sag. He covered his eyes with the back of his right hand, and sobbed loudly.