there had been encouragement to expand the program, they kept it at a manageable level—ten young men from Minneapolis inner-city schools, teenagers whose brushes with the law ran the gamut from gang activity to grand-theft auto. The point of the program was to bring the boys' positive qualities of intelligence to the surface, to interest them in science and engineering through innovative projects with computers and robotics.
The boys had requested this emergency meeting—a logistical headache that required a dozen phone calls to schools to get permission for the boys to leave in the middle of the day, and to probation officers to find one willing to drive them down to Deer Lake. At least the van simplified matters somewhat. Fund-raising and contributions had helped pay for a used Ford van four years ago.
"Think," Priest said. "If the authorities were looking for a scapegoat, would they choose a man like Dr. Wright?"
"Hell no, but that loser they dragged in from the hockey rink offed himself—"
J. R. Andersen leaned forward in his seat. His rap sheet included charges for raiding bank accounts electronically. "Professor, are you saying it is logical to believe Dr. Wright did it?"
The others in the group reacted in an explosion of sound. Priest waited for the fury to die down.
"Of course not. I'm asking you to look at the system without emotion coloring your perceptions. The police apprehended someone they believe to be involved in the crime." He held up a finger to ward off the automatic protests. "You are all well aware that the next step in the process belongs to the county attorney's office. It's Ms. North's job—"
"Fuckin' bitch."
"Tyrell . . ."
Tyrell unfolded his long arms and spread them wide. "A million?"
"A lesson in bargaining. Always ask for more than you think you can get. The judge cut that number in half."
"Five hundred large. Where we supposed to raise that kind of green?"
"I'm sure Dr. Wright will appreciate your intentions," Priest said. "But no one expects you guys to raise that kind of money."
"I could get it," J.R. offered with a twisted grin, cracking his knuckles with dramatic flair.
The professor ignored the inference. Crime was never rewarded within the group in any way, not even as a joke. "If you want to show your support, there are things you can do. You've got brains. Use them."
"Our name," J.R. said, his gaze sharp on the professor. "We're a media draw."
"Very good, J.R."
"We could start a defense fund for the Doc."
"And the news crews will hear about it and make a big deal about us—"
"And the money will come rolling in."
A knock at the door drew Priest's attention away from the conversation.
"Professor?" Ellen North inched the door open. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I was told you didn't have a class this hour."
"I don't." He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. "The Cowboys called an emergency meeting. They were understandably upset over Dr. Wright's arrest, then they heard the news reports of this morning's bail hearing . . ."
He offered a little shrug that sent his shrunken wool sweater crawling up his midriff. "You have to understand, they're not very trusting of the system."
Ellen reserved comment. From her perspective the system wasn't the problem with juvenile offenders, but she hadn't come to Harris College for a philosophical argument.
She wanted to meet and speak with Wright's friends and colleagues herself, face-to-face to look for some hint of doubt or unease in them. It seemed impossible that Wright could be so twisted without giving someone close to him a clue.
But wasn't that what everyone in Deer Lake wanted to think? That a monster had to look like a monster and walk like a monster and talk like a monster so they could see the monster coming? If evil came in plain clothes and a pretty face, then evil could be anyone
The boys had requested this emergency meeting—a logistical headache that required a dozen phone calls to schools to get permission for the boys to leave in the middle of the day, and to probation officers to find one willing to drive them down to Deer Lake. At least the van simplified matters somewhat. Fund-raising and contributions had helped pay for a used Ford van four years ago.
"Think," Priest said. "If the authorities were looking for a scapegoat, would they choose a man like Dr. Wright?"
"Hell no, but that loser they dragged in from the hockey rink offed himself—"
J. R. Andersen leaned forward in his seat. His rap sheet included charges for raiding bank accounts electronically. "Professor, are you saying it is logical to believe Dr. Wright did it?"
The others in the group reacted in an explosion of sound. Priest waited for the fury to die down.
"Of course not. I'm asking you to look at the system without emotion coloring your perceptions. The police apprehended someone they believe to be involved in the crime." He held up a finger to ward off the automatic protests. "You are all well aware that the next step in the process belongs to the county attorney's office. It's Ms. North's job—"
"Fuckin' bitch."
"Tyrell . . ."
Tyrell unfolded his long arms and spread them wide. "A million?"
"A lesson in bargaining. Always ask for more than you think you can get. The judge cut that number in half."
"Five hundred large. Where we supposed to raise that kind of green?"
"I'm sure Dr. Wright will appreciate your intentions," Priest said. "But no one expects you guys to raise that kind of money."
"I could get it," J.R. offered with a twisted grin, cracking his knuckles with dramatic flair.
The professor ignored the inference. Crime was never rewarded within the group in any way, not even as a joke. "If you want to show your support, there are things you can do. You've got brains. Use them."
"Our name," J.R. said, his gaze sharp on the professor. "We're a media draw."
"Very good, J.R."
"We could start a defense fund for the Doc."
"And the news crews will hear about it and make a big deal about us—"
"And the money will come rolling in."
A knock at the door drew Priest's attention away from the conversation.
"Professor?" Ellen North inched the door open. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I was told you didn't have a class this hour."
"I don't." He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. "The Cowboys called an emergency meeting. They were understandably upset over Dr. Wright's arrest, then they heard the news reports of this morning's bail hearing . . ."
He offered a little shrug that sent his shrunken wool sweater crawling up his midriff. "You have to understand, they're not very trusting of the system."
Ellen reserved comment. From her perspective the system wasn't the problem with juvenile offenders, but she hadn't come to Harris College for a philosophical argument.
She wanted to meet and speak with Wright's friends and colleagues herself, face-to-face to look for some hint of doubt or unease in them. It seemed impossible that Wright could be so twisted without giving someone close to him a clue.
But wasn't that what everyone in Deer Lake wanted to think? That a monster had to look like a monster and walk like a monster and talk like a monster so they could see the monster coming? If evil came in plain clothes and a pretty face, then evil could be anyone
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