The Newman Resident by Charles Swift Page A

these meetings.”
    “So, you stopped trying to get your daughter out?” Richard asked.
    “Not at first. We kept telling ourselves that our case was different.”
    “But then we heard about Joseph’s son,” Paul spoke up, “and that put a new light on everything. I think it did for everybody.”
    “Joseph’s son?” Richard asked.
    Paul looked at his wife, and neither spoke. Richard couldn’t catch anybody’s eye.
    “It’s past two,” Harold said. “I think it’s time we break. Should we meet next week—”
    Richard heard a new voice: “I will speak about it.” A man emerged from the shadows and moved closer to the lamp, where everyone could plainly see his face. “He would want me to speak of it, if it can help.
    “I’m Joseph Thomas. I’m a professor at Harvard Law and have a home in Cambridge. Almost eight years ago, my wife and I had a son, Samuel. Joanne died in childbirth.”
    “I’m sorry,” Richard said.
    “That left me alone,” Joseph continued, “with a wonderful little baby, and a new academic career, and a law practice on the side. He didn’t have a mother, and how could I give him what he needed? I talked to several experts, spent weeks researching what was best for Samuel. I read about the Newman program here in New York and contacted the school.” Joseph rubbed his hands together. “Newman admitted him. They said he was like a little leopard, fast on his feet because he was fast in his mind.”
    “Everything is about the jungle over there,” Richard said.
    “More than you realize,” Joseph said. “He looked so happy in the videos, so I figured he was reserved at home because he wasn’t used to the surroundings. But when he came home last Christmas, Samuel wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was getting increasingly distant. More and more it just seemed that what was happening at Newman was some sort of experiment. I told the superintendent I was removing my son from the facility.”
    Joseph paused and looked around the room. He took a deep breath.
    “Looking back,” Joseph said, “I wish I’d just kept him home after the visit. But he was back at the school, and the superintendent argued with me. He said I was making a mistake. He had his head child psychologist talk with me—”
    “Hunter Jenkins,” Richard said.
    Joseph smiled slightly. “Yes, Dr. Jenkins. He showed me studies, videos of happy Newman residents, everything you can think of. He even tried to convince me I had an obligation to prove an African American child could succeed in the school. ‘If you takehim out,’ Dr. Jenkins said, ‘how will another black child get in?’ After several weeks of this harassment, I finally barged into the place and demanded my son. They told me the papers would be finalized the next week. I told them they had to be ready the next day. This was six weeks ago.”
    No one was looking at Joseph now, except for Richard.
    “I went to the school first thing in the morning to pick up my son. A couple of guards—excuse me,
hosts
—took me to the superintendent’s office, and he told me the news. Samuel had run away.”
    “Run away?” Richard said. “That’s impossible. That place is a fortress.”
    “That’s what I said. But the superintendent claimed Samuel was so upset he’d be returning home with me that he ran away. He said the security is designed to keep unwanted people out, not to keep residents in. He claimed he tried calling me, but I hadn’t answered. And he said he’d called the police.”
    “We can tell Richard about this next time,” Harold said.
    “No, I need to tell him now,” Joseph said, shaking his head. “I left the facility and called the police. I knew the school had never called me, but the police wouldn’t say if they’d been called or not. They said they’d keep an eye out for Samuel. I called my family, my friends, everyone I could think of. Some of them drove down from Boston and helped me look all over Manhattan. We searched every