Read Online The Sacrifice by Robert Whitlow - Free Book Online Page B

even fewer enjoyed it. There was far more grind than glamour. But for Scott the Garrison case had the bloom of a fresh opportunity, and no matter what he thought about Harold and Lester Garrison personally, his client deserved due process of law.
    In the law-firm library Scott found a thick treatise on criminal law in North Carolina. He buzzed the receptionist and told her to hold his calls. After several hours of research, he closed the volume with a much clearer picture of the possibilities facing his client. Lester was definitely on the bubble. He was young enough to enjoy the limited punishment provisions available in juvenile court but old enough that the judge had the discretion to allow him to be prosecuted as an adult. A delinquency conviction in juvenile court would probably mean a year in a youth detention center. A felony conviction in superior court could result in up to ten years of jail time, but such a stiff sentence was unlikely for a sixteen-year-old boy. Scott didn’t need a lawbook to tell him that Lester’s preference for racial segregation was a prescription for trouble no matter where he went.
    Upstairs in his office Scott found Thelma Garrison’s phone number. The old woman answered on the fifth ring.
    After introducing himself, Scott said, “I need to talk with Lester’s father. How can I contact him?”
    â€œHe’s somewheres between here and Michigan. He don’t never phone here to check on me or the boy. I don’t know what he thinks I can do . . .” The old woman’s voice trailed off, and Scott couldn’t understand what she said.
    He waited a second before continuing. “Something has come up on Lester’s case, and it’s important that I talk to his father as soon as possible.”
    â€œI don’t see how if he don’t call.”
    â€œBut if you hear from him, please tell him to call me.”
    â€œI doubt I will. What’s your name again?”
    â€œScott Ellis.”
    â€œI’ll try to remember. Is Lester all right? I’ve been a-worryin’ about him. He’s been fretful recently, always banging around in that shed of his out back of the house.”
    â€œUh, yes, ma’am. He’s fine.” Scott decided it would be better not to tell her about the fight at the detention center. “I’m working hard on his case.”
    â€œHelp him if you can. God knows I can’t do anything. Bye.”
    The phone clicked off.
    Scott couldn’t count on Thelma. He dialed the phone number for the trucking company where Harold Garrison worked and spoke to a dispatcher. The man promised to leave a message for Harold at his next scheduled stop.
    As the last act of the day for his new client, Scott called the district attorney’s office. It was after 5 P.M., and he doubted any government employees were still at work, but it was worth a try. To his surprise, a receptionist answered the phone.
    â€œI’ll see who is handling the file,” the woman said. After a moment, she added, “That would be Lynn Davenport, one of the assistant district attorneys.”
    â€œIs she available?”
    â€œI’ll check.”
    He stayed on hold until a woman with an accent that was more New York than North Carolina answered the phone. “Lynn Davenport, here.”
    â€œMs. Davenport, this is Scott Ellis with Humphrey, Balcomb and Jackson. I’m representing a juvenile named Lester Garrison. The receptionist said you were handling the case.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHave you had a chance to look over his file?”
    â€œYes.”
    Scott paused. It didn’t appear that Ms. Davenport was going to engage in friendly banter with him about Lester’s tattoos.
    â€œI’d like you to consider handling the case as a juvenile court matter.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut he’s only sixteen, and no one was injured.”
    â€œNo.” The lawyer’s clipped accent made her