Dreams of Destiny Pt. 02

She got her Diet Pepsi , grabbed a table with a view of the door nearest to the CJA office, and steeled herself for a half hour wait to find out if there were any cases today.If only I were more organized, Destiny thought,I’d be spending this time on something billable. Or at least on accounting matters. Instead its more dead time, she grumbled to herself for a minute. Then she settled in with an easy-to-read paper back novel she kept in her purse for emergencies. Before she knew it she was lost in a turn of the century, foggy London murder mystery.

Twenty minutes later Destiny was brought back to the present with a start. “Destiny, my lass. I’ve been looking all over for ye,” boomed Sean O’Donnell, in his misplaced Irish brogue. “I’ve got a couple of hot looking prospects for ye today.” Sean was the CJA juvenile case manager. He coordinated the appointment of juvenile cases coming into the Court to hungrily waiting attorneys. A judge always signed off on the appointments, but Sean made the recommendations, and literally held the livelihood of nearly a hundred attorneys in the palms of his hands.

Things were looking up. “What have you got, Sean, me darlin?’ Destiny replied.

“A walk-in assault, female,” Sean smiled, “and” he hesitated for dramatic effect, “a runaway with the added spice of unregistered fire arm, carrying a pistol without a license, and unregistered ammunition. Do you love me now, Destiny?” Sean asked as he handed Destiny the paper work.

A gold mine! Destiny thought as she quickly skimmed the two police reports. “Sean, all the girls in Dublin cried when you left the emerald isle,” Destiny said with a lilt in her voice. “You, my lad, are the love of my life.”

“In your dreams,” Sean laughed as he turned and headed back to his office.

“My night mares, maybe,” Destiny retorted tartly.

“And now whose heart is breakin’?” Sean’s voice faded out as he sauntered down the hall.

As she watched him leave, Destiny got a brief glimpse in her mind of Sean leaning down towards her with his homely face, as if seeking a kiss. She, was standing on the edge of a cliff, on a stormy night by the sea. told herself furiously.Oh my God!” though Destiny. “Where in Hell did that come from? Do not blink! Not in my most desperate moment do I want to wake up there. That picture didn't come from my mind, my dreams or my subconscious. What is going on with me?” When she finally focused her vision again she saw Sean staring at her from the doorway of his office, way down at the end of the hall. Did he laugh then, or was she imagining things?

Destiny’s oldest friend in the Courthouse, Dana was getting off the downs escalator as Destiny regrouped. “Destiny, what’s wrong?” Dana asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”More like a ghoul Destiny thought to herself. “Its nothing Dana. A shadow walked over my grave or something.”

“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re even whiter than usual,” Dana’s impish smile lit up her face. “Where are you off to?" She asked. “Do you have time to talk?”

“No, sadly, or happily I should say,” said Destiny. "I actually have two live juvees on the hook this morning. I’ve got to try to reel them in before they get away.”

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” quipped Dana. “You with all your old ‘save the children ideals’, have been reduced to looking at juvees as fish on the hook?”

“Can it, Dana,” said Destiny. “I have to eat, just like all of you jaded old timers.”

“Oh, so now I’m an old timer, am I? I used to be your best buddy, your mentor, your confidant. Now I’m an old timer?” Dana made a face. “You probably think of me as a rival, too, ready to steal your crumbs of bread.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.,” said Destiny. “Just as surely as you speak. I know you’re dying to dive on into the juvenile pond. You’ve only been waiting these twenty years until the pickings are really slim, so that you can mess things up good. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

They both laughed long and hard, and a little bitterly.

“I’m glad we can laugh about it, Dana,” Destiny said as she caught her breath. “Now I have to go. If I’m late some young punk with a runny nose and a Bar card with wet ink will steal my cases out from under me.” “You got that right,” Dana agreed. “Later” said Dana as Destiny stepped onto the up escalator.

The next floor up was the John Marshal level where Courtroom 10, new referrals were heard. Destiny stepped off the escalator and headed towards the courtroom. It was almost ten o’clock already but the courtroom was still almost empty when Destiny arrived. Later it would be a zoo scene.

All juvenile and child abuse and neglect initial hearings were heard in Courtroom 10. During the first couple of hours of the day, prosecutors scrambled to put the new cases together to be presented. Usually, nothing's ready to be heard until at least 11 o’clock, no matter how hard the assigned Judge pushes to speed things up. Then everything's ready in a rush and everyone jockeys to have their cases presented first.

The Court room clerks were traffic cops and acted as the right hand of the Courtroom God. Piss one off and you’ll be stuck in court until doomsday. A friend of Destiny’s once told her he treated the clerks like he had just made love to them. “I hope it was consensual,” Destiny had replied with a laugh. But she knew exactly what he meant when he said it.

The workings of Courtroom 10 seemed like an unorganized mess to the casual observer, but experience had taught Destiny that it worked the way it worked. Judges and managers had come and gone and torn their hair out trying to improve it, but it always ended up working the same way. You made the best possible use of your time, gritted your teeth, and smiled your way through it, and billed for every second you could. A lot of the work was non-billable down time on pickup days.

The Courtroom itself showed the heavy use it received. Several heavy lawyers’ butts had caved a few of the chairs’ seats, in the audience rows. The padding was coming out of other seats here and there. The oak wood paneling was stained in places. And the whole room reeked of burned insulation from a small, but destructive fire which had caught in one of the Judges chambers behind the Courtroom several months ago from a curling iron that had been left on over night.

The clock on the wall over the entrance from the corridor was permanently stuck at 4:45. It was said that a vindictive bailiff, sick of being forced to stay late without overtime pay snuck in one night and broke the clock, setting its hands at the time the Court was, by judicial order, supposed to close for the day. Of course, that was just a rumor.

The Courtroom was about thirty feet deep. The judge's bench was on a raised, semi-circular dais, straight back from the hall entrance. There was a witness stand to the judge's right, slightly lower than the judge. Below that and on both sides of the judge's chair were the clerks’ areas. Over the past five years, more and more computer equipment had made its way into the dais so space was at a premium.

Doors on the left and right, behind the clerks desks, led into the jury rooms, the small prisoners’ holding cells and into the judges chambers. Destiny was sure that she was not the only lawyer to fantasize that this or that judge might somehow get lost and end up in lock up instead of in chambers.

Destiny was the first juvenile defense lawyer to arrive that morning. Elaine and Rodney were the Courtroom clerks of the day. They were trying to sort out the files they had been given from the juvenile clerk’s office. “What have you got today, Ms. Lysander?” Elaine asked, all business.

“Good morning,” said Destiny, “I have two little beauties today. A walk-in, female ninja fighter, Takita Smallwood, and wonderful little runaway, Devon James, armed to the teeth. Do you have any petitions for me?”

“Yes on Takita.” Elaine handed Destiny the petition which formally charged Takita Smallwood with assault with a dangerous weapon, shod foot (meaning she kicked someone, most likely a family member). “And you know its way too early for word on the thug.

But,” Elaine said with a sudden, and unexpected little grin, “there’s a youth division officer on this one and he is some hunk of male flesh.” “Elaine!” Destiny said raising her eyebrows. “You’re blushing” I’ve never yet seen a cop get to you.” “Who is this guy?” “Have you seen him or is this just rumor?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve seen him,” Elaine said. “And I’ve heard him speak. He speaks as soft and nice as a southern kiss. He’s from Florida. I heard he was a homicide dick in some rinky dink county down there. I’m happily married and I swear my wedding ring gave me a mean pinch when I met Mr. Youth Division, 2005. That’s what they’re calling him down town, you know. And I cannot wait until I see your face when you see him.”

“Come on, Elaine, he can’t be that good,” Destiny said with amusement. “Mr. Youth Division? No one has earned that title in eight years, Not since Tuck. Do you remember Tuck, Destiny asked?.”

“Good old Tuck,” Elaine recalled happily. “Tuck the --”

“ Don’t say it, Elaine,” Destiny warned, laughing.

“I was going to say buck,” Elaine said with great dignity. “This guy has earned the title cold, Destiny. He has it, dead to rights as far as I’m concerned, Elaine said with glee.”

“Oh Jesus,” I can’t believe my ears” Destiny laughed out loud. “Elaine’s giggling. I have heard everything. I thought this day started out good. We are breaking new ground here.”

Destiny and Elaine collapsed into gales of laughter, much to Rodney’s disgust. Destiny was surprised at Elaine’s friendliness this morning. She and Elaine were not really friends though they spent hours together in the Courtroom. They’d never gotten giddy together. No one ever got giddy in Courtroom 10. Even at Christmas parties.

Elaine and Destiny were still laughing when Marty Feinstein, the government prosecutor walked into Courtroom 10.

“Who’s passing out the wacky weed?” he asked as he entered the well of the Court. “The last time I heard female laughter like this was when my little sister passed out whipped cream cans to inhale at her 13 year old birthday party.”

Destiny looked at Elaine. “I take it that’s not him?” she said with a snicker.

“You got that right friend,” Elaine responded. They both burst out laughing again.

Marty looked at Rodney with questioning eyes. Rodney just shrugged. Their eyes met smugly Women, go figure.

“What’s this guy’s name, anyway,” Destiny asked Elaine, still giggling?”

“John Rodgers, she was told.

“A smooth name for a smooth talker.”John Rodgers has a slightly familiar ring to it Destiny thought. Not right, but familiar.

Two male defense lawyers entered the Courtroom next. Both were over forty , balding, and out of shape. Elaine and Destiny howled with laughter and tears ran down their faces. The gentlemen, both in dower gray suits, and boring ties, looked at them as if they had gone stark raving mad. Destiny tried to contain herself. “Oh God,” she mouthed to Elaine’. “I have to pee.”If I lose control Mr. Youth Division is bound to walk into the room she thought to herself. “Go girl,” Elaine said. “I’ll cover for you if the Judge takes the bench while you’re gone.” They both started to recover and Destiny walked out of the room holding her sides with mirth.

Destiny made it to the ladies room in time, “thank God” she thought. She applied some makeup on the way out.You never know she thought. Mr. Youth Division? Lord help us. What next?

On her way back, Destiny looked around in the hallway for Takita Smallwood. No luck. No big surprise. Half of the juvenile walk in cases were no-shows. She’d check for her client again later. She also called out for relatives of Devon James. No response. Batting zero.

By the time she returned to the Courtroom it was almost full. The US Marshall came out of the back to indicate that the juveniles were available to be interviewed.

Destiny interviewed Devon James through the bars of the small holding cell where he was detained. Destiny introduced herself to Devon and gave him her business card. There were three other youths in the cell with him. They had to shout at each other over the clamor in the cell block to be heard. Devon was fourteen years old, he said, and had no prior record.

Good for Devon. Good for Destiny. Devon would probably be allowed to go home pending trial, Destiny thought at first. And she would get to keep the case. If he had other cases outstanding the case would have to be turned over to his previous attorney.

The charges were serious so Devon would not be offered a pre-trial diversion program if charges were actually filed. As yet, the prosecutor had made no decision whether or not to charge Devon.

Destiny quickly advised Devon of the status of his case and got a brief social summary from him. He said he had been kicked out of school and was “living between his mother’s apartment and his grandfather’s house.” This did not bode well for the child. Juveniles were supposed to be released pretrial whenever possible, but if there was no one to assume parental responsibility other arrangements had to be made. The juvenile could end up in a youth shelter or in juvenile jail. Those were the options. If a child was physically or mentally ill hospitalization would be considered.

Devon didn’t think his mother or grandfather would be coming to Court. He said candidly that his mother was most likely out on the street, getting high, or with a “friend.” His grand father was really his great grand father, eighty years old and crippled. Devon calmly accepted the news that he would most likely be sent to juvenile jail pending placement at a youth shelter.

Destiny assumed that the case would be petitioned and there would be a short evidentiary hearing on the case that morning. In order to detain the youngster the government would have make a probable cause showing.

Destiny started to gather information from Devon about the arrest and the evidence against him. Upon questioning her client she learned for the first time that he was arrested when he ran away from youth division officers who were investigating a complaint that he and his two siblings were being abused in his mother’s household

Devon ran out of the back door of the apartment when the youth division officers came in the front. This was at about 5:15 this morning. One officer apparently took his little brother and sister into custody and the other went out the back after Devon.

Destiny was confused. “Devon, the police report says a gun and ammunition were involved in this incident.”

“Yeah, “Devon responded, “I had my momma’s friend’s piece when the cops came in. He was hitting my sister and I was going to shoot him. When I left out I took the piece with me.”

“Did you fire the gun at any time?” Destiny asked.

“It might have gone off when I jumped down the back porch steps. Yeah. I’d say it went off accidental, like when I was leaving the porch.”

“Then what happened? Did the officer shoot at you,” Destiny asked?

“Naw, he never,” Devon said. “Like we runned for a while. I’m fast, but this dude, he be quick too. So I split down the alley when I get the chance. He be right behin’ me." The words were coming out fast now, and Destiny was scribbling like mad too keep up with the story.

“How far behind you was he?” “I dunno, lady, I not be lookin back, you know. But I hear him huffin and puffin behin’ me. I ’s start to fear he might pull the trigger, you know. I still got the gun out, but I not be thinkin ‘bout shootin, just gettin away. Then all a sudden my feets get all tangled up and I go down hard on my face. The gun, it slides, like, outa my hand and a few feet past me. I hear that cop say ‘freeze or I’ll shoot’ and I freeze, just like he say.”

“Did you reach for the gun at any time after you went down.” Destiny asked, with intense concentration.

“No ma’am. He say ‘freeze mother fucker, you don want to die tonight’, and I think that’s true. I’d rather be caught than dead. He say ‘lay down flat out with you hands behind you back and you breath wrong, you die.' I do it. He stands on my hands long enough to put the cuffs on me. Then he say I make the right choice son.' And I know he’s right. I ain’t got nothin to say ‘gainst him. He could have smoked me, truth be told.”

“How long did the chase take?” Destiny asked.

“Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe.”

“Do you know what happened to the gun after you dropped it?” Destiny asked.

“No ma’am. I lost track of it. We waited there for the troops to come. They was cops coming in from all directions. They was cops all over the alley by the time they put me in a car to take me down town.”

“How much ammunition was in the gun.” Destiny asked.

“I dunno. Just what was in it, I guess. Didn’t really know if it was loaded when I first picked it up. Not until I shot it off by mistake,” Devon replied.

“Do you know what kind of gun it was?” She asked.

“Nah. Just a gun.”

“How did you get those scrapes and bruises on your face, Devon,” Destiny inquired.

“That’s from when I fell in the alley.”

“Did the cops treat you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah” he responded.

“Do you remember my name,” Destiny asked? “Yeah,” he grinned. “Destiny. I like that for a name”

“You’re a smart kid,” Destiny said with a smile. “Remember, what you and I talk about is confidential. That means private, right?”

“Right,” he said with a nod of his head.

“And from here on in, don’t talk about it to any one else about the case unless I’m with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“See ya soon.”

Destiny left the cell block and reentered Courtroom 10. It was noon already. The judge still hadn’t taken the bench. Marty handed Destiny the petition on Devon. “What are you asking for Marty,” Destiny inquired of the prosecutor. “Secure detention,” Marty responded.

“No way,” Destiny replied. “He has no priors. He’s fourteen and small for his age. They’ll eat him up at Oak Hill. Oak Hill was a run down, juvenile detention center about 35 miles east of DC. It housed juveniles delinquents from age 12 through 21. It was basically a holding cell for throw-away children who were out of options, violent, or just, plain unlucky.

Give him expedited shelter care.”

“No can do. If you want him in isolation at Oak Hill he can have isolation.”

“Oh, that’s a big help,” Destiny said with disgust. Put a victim of child abuse in solitary confinement at Oak Hill because he tried to defend his sister from a pimp.”

“He shot at the cops, Destiny. And a merry chase ensued through Anacostia in the dead of night with drawn pistols. It was a highly dangerous situation. Cops could have been killed.”

‘Which version is that, Marty, yours, after you rehearsed your witness, or the cop who was at the scene?” Destiny asked angrily. “Who are you putting on for probable cause, anyway,” Destiny asked.

“Read your police report, Destiny, and figure it out. Or wait until the case is called. You’ve always liked surprises, as I recall.” Marty turned on his heel and walked out of the Courtroom. Destiny followed him, seething.

“As she was leaving she spotted Kate Golding, one of the probation officers on duty in Courtroom 10 that day. “Kate,” Destiny called over the noise, “do you have Devon James’ case”

“Yep, Kate said, knowing what Destiny was about to ask. “Oak Hill.”

“Oh, come on. Not you too, Destiny implored. “Did you talk to the kid at all about what happened.”

“Did I what?”

“I mean prior to the chase. Christ, Kate, the kid was trying the defend his sister from some sadistic bastard pimp.”

“So he says,” Kate replied.

“So youth division thought when they went out at 5:00 a.m. to remove the kids from the home,” Destiny retorted, heatedly. They were a little slow in arriving, as I see it. The pimp left his gun out when he went after the sister. The kid picked up the gun.”