If It Walks Like a Duck

I looked across Fran to Mom, "Will you take her in and take care of her? I have some things I need to do."

"Son, be very careful. I'll take care of Fran."

I got Blizzard out of the barn and rode her to Dad out on the tractor. He stopped and walked a little ways from the noisy machine. I told him what had happened and he asked what my next move was going to be.

"I want to take the truck and go get Fran's things. She can have my room. She cannot live with a man who would beat her like that!"

"You can take the truck. I would be very cautious. Her Dad thinks you painted the swastika. If he gets violet, I'd run, not fight."

"You're right. Fighting would just make things worse." Blizzard and I went back to the barn and I transferred to the truck. When I stopped in front of Fran's house her mother came out, carrying a suitcase. She was bruised and her lip was torn. She whispered, "Take care of her. I know neither of you did this, but he won't listen."

"Get in the truck, please."

"I need to stay. He's my husband."

"He will hurt you again. He's done it before. Is this the first time he hit Fran?"

She shook her head. I opened the door to the truck and helped her in. The suitcase went in the back. I started the truck and drove home. She sat against the door and cried.

When I pulled into our yard Mom came out and helped Fran's Mom into the house. Nothing was said while I was there. I brought the suitcase inside and parked it in the hall just outside what used to be my room.

Back in the barn I made a stall into a bedroom. Not fancy, but sleepable. When I was done Mom came and gave me a hug. We stood in my new bedroom and held on for a long time. When we let go she said, "They need us. If you approve, I'm calling the sheriff. He needs to see what happened. He needs to know where they are and why."

"If I approve? I'm the kid. You and Dad are the adults. This isn't up to me."

"You brought Sally home with you. You went to their house to get things for Fran. You know that saying your father has? If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and flys like a duck it is a duck? Well, you walk like a man. You sound like a man and you behave like a man. You are a man. I'm proud of you." She went up on her toes and kissed my cheek. She left the barn. At the door she turned and asked, "Do I call the sheriff?" I nodded.

The tractor came into the barn and the engine shut off. Dad came to me and looked at my new room. "You need a lamp and a chair. How many people moved into your old room?"

I held up two fingers.

"Did he hit her too?" I nodded.

"I'm proud of you." He walked towards the house. The white sheriff's car almost ran over him. They went inside together. I stayed in the barn. When the sheriff came out of the house he came to see me. I offered him a hay bale to sit on. He sat.

"You certainly have grown up quick."

"Thanks."

"Can you stay away from town for a couple days?"

"Sure, if I need to."

"Your hearing is day after tomorrow. Paul Garrett and Wyatt Simons will be there to testify. I'll make sure Fran's Dad is there as well and that he's sober. I don't need anything from you except proof you didn't do the painting. Have it with you. Can you do that?"

"My Uncle was with us. Should I ask him to be in court too?"

"It wouldn't hurt. We might not need him but, we might."

"I'll be there and I'll be ready."

He shook my hand and left. At seven Fran rang the triangle. I went to dinner. Five people around the table. Mom had made comfort food. Soft comfort food.

Fran sat next to me. Dinner with five people felt weird. When we were done Fran and I did the dishes. Mom and Dad took Mrs. Clarke out to the porch swing and they stayed out there a long time.

"Fran, can I get you some ice?"

"I'm Ok."

"Not an answer to the question I asked. Let me rephrase. If I gave you some crushed ice in a towel would it feel good on your face?"

"How much ice do you have?"

"How much do we need?" She took my hand and pulled me to my old room. She closed the door and pulled the sweat shirt up over her head. Her ribs were bruised, She turned and I saw more bruises on her back. She pulled the sweatshirt down and asked, "How much ice do you have?"

"I wouldn't know where to put what we do have."

"I'm Ok. I'll let Mom have it tonight."

"I go to court tomorrow."

"I know. We're supposed to go too."

"You?"

"The judge will be seeing Daddy as well as seeing you."

"I'm scared. I think we're ready but I'm still scared."

"I'm scared too. I don't want my Dad to go to jail and I don't want to live with him ever again. I hate what he did and I love him. He's my Dad."

We talked, sitting on the bed that used to be mine until Mrs. Clarke opened the door and asked if she could come in.

I left and wished them both a good night's sleep. When I got to the barn there was a floor lamp, a rocking chair, a small table and three boxes of my clothes. And, an alarm clock. It was already set for four-forty-five.

Some of our animals snore.

By five I was up, dressed and at work. By breakfast I was starving and went inside to pancakes, sausage, toast and a girl with a three color face. She was hard to look at. Mrs. Clarke was worse. Her split lip was swollen and her right eye was closed. She held a towel with ice to her face, took it away, took a bite, winced and put the icy towel back on her face.

Mom said, "When it's time to get ready for court I'll ring the triangle. Sally, you'll wear a dress of mine. Nick, I've ironed you a shirt."

Dad handed me a big envelope with all the receipts and pictures from our trip. I reminded myself that I quacked like a duck.

All the animals were cared for and we all were looking like we were either headed to church or a funeral by the time we needed to go. Dad drove, Mom sat in the middle and Mrs. Clarke sat by the door. Fran and I rode in the back of the truck.

Dad parked in front of the courthouse. Our barn was bigger. Inside the sheriff pointed to some empty chairs and we sat. I saw Mr. Garrett, Paul, Paul's friend Wyatt Simons and his parents, Mr. Crawford, the mayor, Mr. Clarke looking sad and sick and the judge.

The gavel banged and we were off. The judge asked the sheriff what order he wanted to proceed. He answered, "The case of vandalism on Mr. Crawford's Market, your honor. Two witnesses claimed to have seen Nick Peterson and Fran Clarke spray painting a huge swastika on the wall of the market."

"Are those witnesses here in court?"

"Yes, your Honor. Paul Garrett and Wyatt Simons." The sheriff pointed to the boys.

"I'll hear from Mr. Simons first. Sheriff, have a deputy take Mr. Garrett outside and walk down to the railroad tracks and back. Mr. Simons, please take the stand."

Wyatt wobbled as he went to the stand. When he got there the judge looked at his parents and said, "If your son swears to tell the truth will he?"

His Dad answered, "He'd better!"

The bailiff swore him in and asked him to identify himself. He did. Then the judge asked him to tell what he knew about the swastika.

His story was that he and Paul were walking home from the school dance and saw someone beside the store. They snuck closer and saw Nick Peterson and Fran Clarke with spray cans painting the big design on the building. They went to the sheriff and told him what they saw.

The judge had him draw on a map of the area around Crawford's on the new white board in the courtroom. "Where were Nick and Fran?" "Where were you?" "Where was Paul?" Are you sure?"

He was sure. The judge took a digital picture of the board. He had it erased. He told Wyatt he could step down but he could not leave and he remained under oath.

The deputy brought Paul back inside and he was sworn in. The judge asked Paul's father if Paul would tell the truth. His father said, "Yes, your Honor."

He asked the same questions that he had asked Wyatt. He had Paul draw on the board to answer the same questions. When he was done he told Paul he could leave the stand but he remained under oath and could not leave the courtroom.

He called the sheriff to the stand. He gave the time line beginning with the moment Paul and Wyatt walked into the sheriff's office.

"They came in at ten after eleven. They told a story very much like what they told here in court. I drove them home and then drove out to the Clarke home. Mrs. Clarke answered the door and said her daughter had gone to the dance at the school and should be home before midnight. Mr. Clarke came to the door and I could smell whiskey. He wanted to know why I was looking for Fran. I told him there had been a report of vandals and I wanted her side of the story. He got angry and closed the door.

I drove to the Peterson farm and Mrs. Peterson told me her son and husband were on an errand and she didn't know when they would return. I told her to have them call me when they returned.

"Did they call you?"

"Yes, at almost one in the morning, Sunday. I went out to the farm at seven-twenty Sunday morning and spoke to Mr. Peterson. Nick was there. Mr. Peterson claimed to have proof of their whereabouts for the entire evening of Friday but said he would not show it to me until we were in court. He and his son volunteered for Nick to spend time in jail awaiting your arrival."

"So, you left him at home?"

"Yes, your Honor."

"Then what did you do?"

"I visited Crawford's. I had his staff look at records and find out who bought cans of red spray paint. In the last six months ten cans have been sold. Eight to our fire department and two were charged to the Garrett family credit card. I called all the stores that sell spray paint within fifty miles and the only two cans unaccounted for are the two purchased by Paul. His signature was on the charge slip."

"Hmmm. Anything else?"

"Yes, your Honor. Paul was the witness to another vandalism case at the school. He said he witnessed Nick pouring dye into the pool. Mr. Morgan suspended Nick and said he could come back to school next quarter, if her paid to have the pool cleaned."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"As long as I was at Crawford's I had them look for purchases of dye. When I got the answer I called the same stores in the fifty mile radius and got the same result. Over a three month period Paul Garrett bought sixty boxes of clothing dye, all Navy blue."

"Is that all you found?"

"No. I found that Mr. Morgan is related to Paul Garrett and his family and therefore suspended Nick without going through the state procedures for doing a suspension. I alerted the state department of education and they are at the school as we speak."

"Paul Garret, please resume the stand."

He walked slowly to the chair and plopped into it.

"You've heard the evidence, so far. You want to tell the truth?"

"It wasn't me. Nick had me buy the dye so he'd help me with my Algebra. I want a scholarship so I did it. He painted Crawford's!"

"Thank you. Step down. Don't leave and remember, you are still under oath."

Wyatt took the stand. "Do you remember that you are still under oath?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you know what the penalty is for lying while under oath in a felony case?"

"No, Sir."

"You can go to prison. How old are you?"

"Seventeen, Sir."

"When will you be eighteen?"

"In March Sir. Two weeks after Paul."

"Paul, please stand." He did. "Do you understand the penalty of lying to me in this case?"

"Isn't spray painting a misdemeanor?"

"If you spray paint the name of a school, a girl's name, or your name yes. A swastika makes it a hate crime and a felony. Do you understand the penalty for lying to me?"

"I do now."

"Would you like to change your testimony?"

"Yes, Sir. Nick didn't do it. I put the dye in the pool and drew on Crawford's."

The judge turned to Wyatt and asked, "Are you going to tell me the truth?"

"Yes, Sir. I knew about the dye but I didn't do it. I did half the design. And I lied to the sheriff."

"Just out of curiosity, Nick Peterson what proof do you have that you didn't do the spray painting?"

I stood up and said, "Dad and I got haircuts from Socks Friday afternoon. The mayor saw us at four-thirty. We drove to Winner, South Dakota and picked up William Nelson, a farmer and drove on to Lincoln Nebraska. We had breakfast at Denny's in Lincoln I have the receipt and I paid with my credit card. At nine-forty-five that Saturday morning I bought a China-Poland sow and I have the bill of sale. I filled up with gas in Winner that evening and we called the sheriff at one Sunday morning." As I spoke I held up receipts.

"All charges against Nick Peterson are dropped. Paul Garrett stand up again." He did. "You are in contempt of court. You will be held without bail pending being charged with a felony hate crime, perjury and a few other crimes. Kiss your Mother good-bye." Paul didn't move. The deputy grabbed his arm and hustled Paul out of the courtroom.

The judge looked at Wyatt and said, "Stand up, Mr. Simons. You are also to be tried for perjury, a hate crime and if I could I'd try you for stupidity as well. Sheriff, don't put them in the same cell." He banged the gavel.

"Sheriff, What's the next case?"

"The Clarke family. It's a domestic violence case, your Honor. When I told the Clarke's I needed to speak to Fran Mr. Clarke got angry. When she came home, he beat her and her mother. While he was passed out she ran away. He beat Mom again when he woke up."

"Sally, is that you?" The judge asked.

She nodded.

"Stand up." She did. He looked at her face and then waved her back into her seat.

"Fran, can you stand?"

She used the chair for balance and stood.

"There are more bruises aren't there?"

"Yes. My ribs and back are bruised."

"Mr. Clarke stand up. What do you have to say that justifies beating these two women?"

"I'm sorry, your Honor."

"Stop. Listen to my question. Answer only what I ask. What do you have to say that justifies beating these two women?"

He looked at the floor and said, "Nothing."

"Right. There is a quote that I want you to memorize while you are in jail, Mr. Clarke. Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."

"Sheriff, put him in a cell between those two young men." The sheriff started for the door with Mr. Clarke when the judge spoke again. In this state I can grant a divorce if there are grounds. Mr. Clarke has given ample grounds and a confession. Mrs. Clarke, a divorce can cost thousands of dollars or we can do it right her, right now. Would you like a divorce?"

Mrs. Sally Clarke looked through her one good eye at her husband and said, "Yes."

"I'll have my clerk prepare the papers and Mr. Clarke will sign them. Your divorce is granted and is effective today."

The courtroom was quiet and the judge slammed down the gavel. "We're done for today." He walked out the back door. Mr. Garrett came to me and apologized for his son. He volunteered to pay to have the pool cleaned and the swastika removed from Crawford's. I wondered aloud if the sheriff could have prisoners do the work. Wyatt's Dad said, "I'm as much to blame as my son. If he scrapes the wall, I'll be right there with him. I'm sorry for all of this mess."

Three days later Paul, Wyatt and their Dads were scraping the paint off all those bricks, one brick at a time. They started at four-thirty in the morning and worked until eight at night. Breakfast was Cherrios. Lunch was a peanut butter sandwich and dinner was a bologna sandwich and a beer. It took the four of them almost a week to finish the wall and the hand scrubbing of an empty Olympic sized swimming pool. Mr. Simons and Mr. Garrett have become good friends and pretty good people.

The new Principal of the school had classes watch the scrubbing as a teaching moment. In June Fran and Sally moved back to their house. Fran and I had painted the inside and cleaned things up. Sally Clarke got a job in town, at Crawford's.

My sow weighed seven hundred pounds that July and won a ribbon at the state fair.

Fran still comes by and spends the night in her room. Difference is, I stay there too. After all, if you walk like a duck...