perused it, even though Mateo knew he’d be prepared already. “Counselors, approach the bench for a moment.”
Well, this was something new. Mateo stood and straightened his suit jacket before walking up to the bench along with ADA Pam Everett. Judge Gorges peered down his long nose at them. “I thought a deal was going to be negotiated in this case.”
Pam glared at Mateo. “Talk to Mr. Lopez. His client won’t divulge the information, so there is no plea bargain, Your Honor.”
“I’ve told my client what he’s facing, but he won’t talk.” Mateo gave a halfhearted shrug. Whether Scotty tried to save his own neck or not, Mateo wouldn’t lose any sleep if the kid did time. Whoa. When had he become so cynical? He cleared his throat. “He wants to go right to sentencing, Your Honor.”
Judge Gorges let out a big sigh. “Third strike, counselor. You know what that means.”
“Yes, sir, and so does my client.” Mateo looked at Scotty, who stared defiantly back at them. “He’s willing to plead guilty and face the consequences.”
“He’s too young to be put in a system that will chew him up and spit him out.” More than a hint of resignation tinged Judge Gorges’s words. “We’ll proceed then.”
Pam smirked at Mateo. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and walked the few feet to the defendants table. He sat next to Scotty and leaned in to the boy. “Last chance to change your mind about what happens next. The judge is willing to listen if you have some names. Otherwise, we go right to sentencing.”
Scotty faced the judge. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Your friends will forget you while you’re in prison. You know that, right? Once you’re gone, you’re no use to them. They also won’t remember how you kept quiet.” He hoped that the kid would listen to reason and save his own skin, if nothing else.
“But they’ll remember if I squeal. No thanks.”
The judge glared down at them. “Will the defendant please rise?”
Mateo stood and brought Scotty to his feet.
Judge Gorges, his facial features somber, his hands folded before him, spoke with the authority he’d been given. “Scott Arthur Rodriguez, with respect to the six counts of larceny, how do you plead?”
Scotty stared straight ahead, but didn’t say a word. Mateo muttered to him, “It’s either guilty or not guilty, kid.”
The bravado from before seemed to be fading. Scotty took a deep breath, then another. “Guilty.”
“Your Honor.”
“Guilty, Your Honor.”
The kid’s voice cracked on the last word, and Mateo felt his anger and disillusionment melt slightly. Scotty hadn’t even finished going through puberty, yet he faced incarceration for at least a year. It hadn’t been that long ago that Mateo had faced the same pressure of a gang and succumbed to it before getting out. But he had gotten out, while Scotty seemed resigned to a future of courtroom sentences and jail stints.
Judge Gorges closed the file in front of him. “Mr. Rodriguez, you understand that since this is your third conviction and because of your refusal to assist the police that there will be no leniency?”
Scotty nodded until Mateo nudged him. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then I see no other choice. Scott Arthur Rodriguez, you are to be remanded to the authorities at the Wayne County jail until a bed is open in the Wayne County juvenile delinquent facility for a term no longer than eighteen months.”
Mrs. Rodriguez shouted and rose to her feet.
Judge Gorges pounded his gavel. “Order, please.” He switched his attention back to Scotty. “You’ll be jailed with the adult male population, men who are hardened criminals. Is that what you want, Mr. Rodriguez?”
Gorges couldn’t be serious about this. Scotty had shoplifted, not hurt or killed anyone. It was a minor crime. Mateo said, “Your Honor, the defendant is only thirteen. There must be another location, another option—”
“With overcrowding in the juvenile facilities, this is our only option. So let me ask again, how do you plead, Scotty?”
The kid seemed on the verge of tears. “Guilty.”
Judge Gorges stood and motioned for the deputy who stood on the edge of the courtroom. “He’s all yours then.”
The deputy approached the defendant’s table with cuffs in his hands. Scotty turned to Mateo, the panic in his eyes evident. “He’s really sending me to the adult jail?”
“He is.”
“I didn’t think...”
Mateo put a hand on Scotty’s shoulder and thrust the kid toward his mother, who wept and clung to her boy.
Eventually the deputy stepped forward to put the cuffs on Scotty’s wrists, even though they hung loosely on him. This wasn’t fair, but the judge was right. There weren’t many options for this to play out.
After Scotty left the courtroom, Mateo tried speaking to Mrs. Rodriguez. “A court officer will contact you with information about his transfer to the jail. You’ll be able to visit him there shortly, and he’s going to need to see you.”
“They’re going to eat him alive.”
Mateo tried to think of something comforting to say, but he had nothing. There wasn’t anything good to say about this entire situation. “I’ll work on getting him transferred to a juvenile facility as quickly as possible.”
She nodded and left the courtroom. The assistant DA gathered her files and walked to the defendants table. “Tough break for the kid.”
Mateo gathered his belongings and placed them in his leather briefcase. “Come over here to gloat?”
“Not at all. If you ever get tired of being on that side of the courtroom, let me know. You’re a terrific lawyer, Mateo, even if you do get stuck with guilty clients.”
“Right.” He didn’t look at her as he brushed past her and out of the courtroom. He didn’t stop until he got to his car. He sat inside for a moment, debating where to go. It was Monday, which meant he needed to put in some hours at the office, preparing for his next client’s trial. Another kid caught in the system. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t look into a kid’s eyes and wonder how someone so young and innocent could do such horrible things.
He started the car and drove to the office, keeping himself on autopilot so he wouldn’t have to think, to feel. It was hopeless. All of it.
* * *
PAGE PLACED HER dirty scrubs in the bin, took her purse from her locker and punched out. It had been a long day, and her feet ached despite wearing shoes that were made to be comfortable. She slumped onto the nearest bench and debated her options. She felt pretty good, so she supposed that she should do something productive. Her next round of chemo would
