asked a question that he already knew the answer to. “What was it this time, Scotty? What was it that you had to have and didn’t care that you’d end up in juvie for? Again?”
Scotty kept his gaze on the table as he shrugged. “Don’t matter.”
“Really? Because we seem to end up at the police station too often for it to mean nothing.” He sat quietly, waiting for the kid to say something, anything. After five minutes, he took out a legal pad and pen. “This is your third strike, so you’re looking at a year of lockup.”
Scotty raised his panicked eyes to meet Mateo’s. “A year?”
“Minimum. The judge isn’t going to give you a slap on your wrist since you’re a repeat offender.” Mateo leaned closer. “Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mateo doubted that. The kid knew more than what he said. “How about I tell you what I know? I know that your group of so-called friends dared you to take the cell phones. That when you got caught, they all ran off with the merchandise and left you to take the blame. Then you told the cops that you were alone and wouldn’t give any names. And now they’re all free while you’re in here and looking at a year in juvie. Those don’t sound like very good friends.”
The kid’s eyes lowered, and he once more concentrated on the table. “You don’t know nothing.”
“The truth is, I know the law. Which is good for you, since I can try to get a reduced sentence if you’ll give me the names of those friends.”
“No.”
Mateo might have admired the loyalty to friends in different circumstances, but not when his client was staring at the full brunt of the law if he didn’t give up those names. “Scotty, I’ve seen you hanging out with that gang in your neighborhood. I live there, too, so I expect that both the Four Aces and the Spanish Quarters have been trying to recruit you. And today was a tryout.”
Scotty frowned. “Like I said. You don’t know nothing.”
Mateo sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He grew tired of defending kids who knew better but longed to find a place to fit in. The street gangs were an attractive brotherhood to a kid who had an overworked single mother and no male role models aside from the ones he saw in the neighborhood. Didn’t seem that long ago that Mateo had been the one on the other side of the table talking to a lawyer. He wanted to give Scotty the chance he’d been given. To find a way out of the endless cycle of poverty and violence.
He stood and left the room without another word. He found Mrs. Rodriguez wringing her hands as she paced the hallway. She rushed over to him. “What did he say?”
Mateo shook his head. “He won’t give up the names of the gang members that were there with him. And I can’t help him if he’s not willing to divulge that information to me or the judge.” He put a hand on her shoulder as she started to cry. “He’s looking at about a year in juvenile hall.”
She grasped his hand in both of hers. “He can’t go back to that place. Last time, he had nightmares for a month after getting out. I can’t let them put my baby in there again.”
“This is his third offense, Mrs. Rodriguez. The judge won’t be lenient. Even if Scotty does tell us the names of his friends, he’s still going to jail.”
He opened the door to the interrogation room and ushered her in. Scotty sprinted into his mother’s arms. Mateo shut the door behind him and walked away, feeling tired of seeing the same story play out time and again.
He walked to the end of the hallway and stared out the window and rested his hands on the sill. After a few minutes, he heard a door open, and he turned to find Mrs. Rodriguez wiping her eyes with a tissue. She looked up as he approached. “What’s next?”
“We meet with the judge in the morning, and Scotty will stay in lockup here until then.”
She nodded and glanced at the door. “Thank you, Mr. Lopez. I know you will do your best for my son.”
He feared that his best wouldn’t keep Scotty out of jail, though.
Despondent, he left the police station and drove to visit with friends, hoping that he could find some cheer. He parked in front of Dez and Sherri’s house and walked up to the front door. His cousin Sherri answered his knock and smiled at him. “Hey, you’re just in time for dinner. You must have some kind of sixth sense about these things.” She gave him her cheek to kiss then let him pass, shutting the screen door behind him.
“More like you always eat at seven during the week.”
“We’re eating out on the deck since it’s such a nice night.”
Mateo followed her through the living room to the kitchen, noticing how her hair was slowly returning after a recent bout of chemotherapy and radiation for breast cancer. She looked well. Last he’d heard she was beating the disease, unlike his mom, who had lost her own battle years ago.
He swallowed at the memory and brightened as he found Sherri’s husband, Dez, singing along with the radio as he dressed a green salad. He raised his eyes to Mateo’s and grinned. They clasped hands and bumped chests. “What brings you by?”
He shrugged and glanced around the homey kitchen. Wasn’t too long ago that Dez had been a bachelor like him. Now his friend had married and adopted a teenager. He looked good in his role as husband and father. Mateo ignored the sharp stirring of jealousy. “It’s been a rough day. Was hoping to hang out for a bit with you guys.”
“Sure, sure.” Dez took a platter of raw meat and then pointed at the bowl of salad. “Come out on the deck while I grill these burgers. And bring that with you.”
Mateo retrieved the salad bowl and followed Dez. Out on the paved patio, Dez put the burgers on the steaming grill and took a seat at the table under the neon green umbrella. He pushed out a chair with his foot. “Tell me what’s going on that has you so troubled.”
Mateo placed the bowl on the table and sighed as he dropped into the chair. “A client. Too young, too full of himself.”
“You’re not going to ask me to mentor him, too, are you?”
Over the years, Mateo had reached out to male friends like Dez who had come out of impossible situations to make a better life for themselves. Dez had mentored several young men—one was currently thriving in the military and serving in Afghanistan at the moment. Marcus, Dez and Sherri’s adopted son, had also avoided a life in a gang and had finished the past year at school on the honor roll.
Mateo replied, “No.” And put his head in his hands. “There’s too many who need help. I feel like I’m trying to shore up a dam that’s already burst. Why do I even try to help them?”
Dez leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You do it because you love it. And you care about them.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I can. Disillusionment is my constant companion.”
Dez chuckled at his comment and stood to check on the burgers. “Well, if you leave your law career, you can give poetry a try.”
“Funny.”
The
