Corrupted by Lisa Scottoline Page A

room?”
    â€œWe don’t allow it.” The cop leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “But I can tell you something about how he operates. Is it a criminal matter or civil?”
    â€œIt involves a juvenile.”
    â€œOh.” The cop shook his head. “He’s tough on kids. He’s known for it. You know what his nickname is?”
    â€œJudge Zero Tolerance?”
    â€œNo. Napoleon.”
    â€œThanks,” Bennie said, getting the picture. She made her way back toward the stairwell, descending two floors to the first floor, where she headed back to the Transcription Services office. She walked back inside just as the court stenographer emerged from the hallway, carrying a few papers.
    â€œPerfect timing,” the court stenographer said, with a smile.
    â€œFinished already? How much will that be?”
    â€œFive dollars.”
    â€œGreat.” Bennie slid a five from her purse and handed it over.
    â€œHold on while I get you a receipt.” The court stenographer stepped away from the counter.
    â€œThanks.” Bennie opened the transcript, which was only four pages long, counting the title page and the certification by the court reporter. It read, in toto :
    JUVENILE OFFICER: Mr. Lefkavick, please step forward.
    (Whereupon, the party was sworn in.)
    THE COURT: You’ve been charged with fighting in school, how do you wish to plead?
    THE JUVENILE: Guilty.
    THE COURT: Based upon his admission, I’ll adjudicate him delinquent. What makes you think you have the right to do this kind of crap?
    THE JUVENILE: I don’t, sir. I never—
    THE COURT: How long have you been at Crestwood?
    THE JUVENILE: Uh, since, I’m in—
    THE COURT: You heard me speak at assembly?
    THE JUVENILE: Uh, yes.
    THE COURT: Told you what type of conduct I expected from children in that school, relative to the juvenile justice system?
    THE JUVENILE: Uh. Yes.
    THE COURT: Is fighting acceptable in school?
    THE JUVENILE: No, but—
    THE COURT: No buts. What did I say would happen if you acted in an unacceptable way in school?
    THE JUVENILE: Um, I don’t remember.
    THE COURT: You don’t remember? You don’t remember me saying that if you did anything unacceptable in school that I would send you away? You don’t remember me saying I won’t tolerate violence in school? You don’t remember those words?
    THE JUVENILE: No, sir.
    THE COURT: Were you sleeping?
    THE JUVENILE: No, no.
    THE COURT: You can’t remember that?
    THE JUVENILE: No, sorry.
    THE COURT: I’ll remind you of what I said, I walked into that school and I spoke to your student body and I wasn’t just doing it to scare you, to blow smoke, to make you think that I would do that when I wouldn’t. I’m a man of my word. You’re gone. Send him up to River Street. Let him stay there ninety days. Let’s see if that’s time enough to remember the difference between right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable in school. Thank you.
    FATHER OF JUVENILE: No, wait, please, that’s not fair. That’s not what the lady said. Judge, please, you don’t understand, he’s a good boy.
    THE COURT: Thank you.
    (Whereupon, the proceedings were concluded.)
    Bennie closed the transcript. She had expected the hearing would be inadequate, but seeing how inadequate turned her stomach.
    â€œHere we go,” said the court stenographer, returning to the counter with the receipt. “My, are you okay, dear?”
    â€œNo,” Bennie answered, taking the receipt. “But thanks.”

 
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Sunlight struggled through the dirty windows, and Bennie watched as Jason made his way across the empty visiting room, his feet scuffing the gritty tile floor, his head downcast. Her heart went out to him, and she was still angry after what she’d read in the transcript, seeing how unjust his hearing had been.
    â€œHey buddy,” Bennie said, as Jason reached the