truth.”
The lawyer kept trying, but you could see Tory-boy had taken all the heart out of him. Finally, the judge stepped in and took over.
“Do you know the difference between a truth and a lie, son?” he asked Tory-boy.
“A truth is right. A lie is wrong.”
“What happens if you tell a lie?”
“Telling a lie is a sin,” Tory-boy recited, letter-perfect. “If you tell lies, you burn in Hell.”
“Seems clear enough to me, counsel,” the judge said to the Beast’s lawyer. “There’s plenty twice his age who don’t know as much as this boy does.”
“But, Your Honor—”
“Enough!” the judge snapped at him. “You’re asking the same questions over and over. We are finished with this witness.” I took that as a signal to roll over to where Tory-boy had been sitting and pick him up. I was almost eighteen then, but Tory-boy was damn near my size. If it wasn’t for all those years rolling myself around, all those exercises I did with Tory-boy, I doubt I could have carried him away like I did.
We sat right next to each other in the back of the courtroom, just waiting to see what would happen next.
“I’ll hear oral argument,” the judge said.
“With all respect, this is
res ipsa
, Your Honor,” the DA said. “The standard has not only been met, it’s been satisfied with room to spare.”
“The only
‘res ipsa’
here is that the boy is retarded,” the Beast’s lawyer fired back. “There’s no dispute about that. In the
Morrison
case, this state’s highest court held that—”
“This court is quite familiar with
Morrison
,” the judge said. You could tell he was insulted, like this outsider was questioning if he was retarded himself. “As you undoubtedly know, counsel,
Morrison
referred to a child found to be so profoundly retarded that hewas unable to do anything more than babble a few simple words, with no regard to their actual meaning.
“Furthermore,
Morrison
was a civil case, concerning charges of sexual abuse brought against the owner and several employees of a private care facility. The matter before this court is distinguishable on several grounds.”
“I certainly was not implying—”
“Sir,” the judge said, using that word without a drop of respect in it, “this court has made a finding. I trust you are familiar with your appellate remedies. If you believe you can get past the threshold of outright frivolousness, I assume you will act accordingly.”
When the judge cracked his gavel down, you could see where he wished he could have cracked it.
We waited until everyone had filed out of the room. As the DA passed me, he moved his head just enough to let me know that, next time I told him I could make something happen, he wouldn’t doubt me, not ever.
Not ever
again
, is what he meant.
he trial itself came almost a year after that hearing, so I had plenty of time to teach Tory-boy some new things. The DA told me what questions the Beast’s attorneys would be likely to ask, and I worked my little brother until he had it down perfect.
“Most capital cases try for delay,” the DA told me. “
This
delay is going to help the defendant right into the Death House.”
You don’t get a performance like that from a child out of fear. Just the opposite, in fact. If Tory-boy hadn’t wanted to please me more than anything in the world, he could never have managed the task.
Lord, how his face would light up every time I told him what a fine boy he was!
hen the State called Tory-boy as a witness, they let me wheel him up to the stand. I couldn’t stay there with him, but they let me move my chair over to one side, so Tory-boy would know I was still there.
The Beast’s lawyer raised all kinds of holy hell about that. He said I was going to be a witness, too, so I shouldn’t be allowed to stay anywhere in the courtroom at all.
But the judge was ready for that. He read off a whole long string of different cases where what he called a “vulnerable witness”
The lawyer kept trying, but you could see Tory-boy had taken all the heart out of him. Finally, the judge stepped in and took over.
“Do you know the difference between a truth and a lie, son?” he asked Tory-boy.
“A truth is right. A lie is wrong.”
“What happens if you tell a lie?”
“Telling a lie is a sin,” Tory-boy recited, letter-perfect. “If you tell lies, you burn in Hell.”
“Seems clear enough to me, counsel,” the judge said to the Beast’s lawyer. “There’s plenty twice his age who don’t know as much as this boy does.”
“But, Your Honor—”
“Enough!” the judge snapped at him. “You’re asking the same questions over and over. We are finished with this witness.” I took that as a signal to roll over to where Tory-boy had been sitting and pick him up. I was almost eighteen then, but Tory-boy was damn near my size. If it wasn’t for all those years rolling myself around, all those exercises I did with Tory-boy, I doubt I could have carried him away like I did.
We sat right next to each other in the back of the courtroom, just waiting to see what would happen next.
“I’ll hear oral argument,” the judge said.
“With all respect, this is
res ipsa
, Your Honor,” the DA said. “The standard has not only been met, it’s been satisfied with room to spare.”
“The only
‘res ipsa’
here is that the boy is retarded,” the Beast’s lawyer fired back. “There’s no dispute about that. In the
Morrison
case, this state’s highest court held that—”
“This court is quite familiar with
Morrison
,” the judge said. You could tell he was insulted, like this outsider was questioning if he was retarded himself. “As you undoubtedly know, counsel,
Morrison
referred to a child found to be so profoundly retarded that hewas unable to do anything more than babble a few simple words, with no regard to their actual meaning.
“Furthermore,
Morrison
was a civil case, concerning charges of sexual abuse brought against the owner and several employees of a private care facility. The matter before this court is distinguishable on several grounds.”
“I certainly was not implying—”
“Sir,” the judge said, using that word without a drop of respect in it, “this court has made a finding. I trust you are familiar with your appellate remedies. If you believe you can get past the threshold of outright frivolousness, I assume you will act accordingly.”
When the judge cracked his gavel down, you could see where he wished he could have cracked it.
We waited until everyone had filed out of the room. As the DA passed me, he moved his head just enough to let me know that, next time I told him I could make something happen, he wouldn’t doubt me, not ever.
Not ever
again
, is what he meant.
he trial itself came almost a year after that hearing, so I had plenty of time to teach Tory-boy some new things. The DA told me what questions the Beast’s attorneys would be likely to ask, and I worked my little brother until he had it down perfect.
“Most capital cases try for delay,” the DA told me. “
This
delay is going to help the defendant right into the Death House.”
You don’t get a performance like that from a child out of fear. Just the opposite, in fact. If Tory-boy hadn’t wanted to please me more than anything in the world, he could never have managed the task.
Lord, how his face would light up every time I told him what a fine boy he was!
hen the State called Tory-boy as a witness, they let me wheel him up to the stand. I couldn’t stay there with him, but they let me move my chair over to one side, so Tory-boy would know I was still there.
The Beast’s lawyer raised all kinds of holy hell about that. He said I was going to be a witness, too, so I shouldn’t be allowed to stay anywhere in the courtroom at all.
But the judge was ready for that. He read off a whole long string of different cases where what he called a “vulnerable witness”
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