Custody of the State Read online

  After another silence, Mary Sue added, “I am just going to keep pestering you, I’m afraid. Just like the parable in the Bible about the widow pestering the judge for justice—I believe you are the man to bring about justice for me. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. To my family. Ever. The truth has to come out.”

  “I know we talked once before…and I told you I couldn’t help you—”

  “Yes. Your schedule was very busy, from what you said,” Mary Sue interjected, “I remember that, but—”

  “Something has come up,” Will broke in. And then he added, “My schedule has opened up. Maybe you should tell me something about your case.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Mary Sue cried out. “Yes. Absolutely. The authorities are saying something about my trying to poison Josh—my little four-year-old. It is absolutely not true. I can’t imagine ever doing something like that. It’s unthinkable. Insane. Josh has had some medical problems…”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “We can’t figure it out. I’ve taken him to the doctor multiple times. I was getting impatient. Dr. Wilson wasn’t able to diagnose it. Josh was losing weight. Vomiting. Not eating well. I stopped following the doctor’s orders because Josh looked like he was regressing. I insisted on a second opinion. That’s when the doctor contacted Social Services.”

  “Child abuse is a serious charge. What do they base it on?”

  “I have no idea,” Mary Sue said, her voice rising.

  “Where are you now?”

  “I have to be honest with you, Mr. Chambers. I really don’t know if I should tell you that. The police are looking for me and Josh. I was hoping you could get these charges dropped first. Then I’ll come back.”

  “That may not be as easy as you think. Look, I want you to call me back in thirty minutes. I will put you on the speakerphone. Todd Furgeson, an associate attorney in the office, will also be with me. We will get a complete factual background from you then.”

  Mary Sue thanked him several times, said “God bless you!” excitedly, and then hung up.

  Will walked into the lobby.

  Hilda looked up from her computer with a sheepish smile.

  “Did you know she would be calling this morning?” Will asked.

  “I guess I did.”

  “So my own secretary is conspiring against me!”

  “Will, I’m so glad you’re going to help that poor woman!” Hilda exclaimed.

  “Any other calls while I was on the phone?”

  “No, Fiona didn’t call.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re getting way too far into my head?” Will said with a rueful chuckle.

  Which got him to thinking about the child-abuse case in Georgia he’d just agreed to take on. The Mary Sue Fellows case—Will mused to himself—I don’t think I’ll be rushing to tell Fiona about that one.

  9

  WILL WAS WRAPPING UP his jail conference with Joe Fellows. He had been trying to reassure the young farmer, but he wasn’t sure he was succeeding.

  “Just so you understand—the fact that I will be representing Mary Sue, but not you, doesn’t mean I believe you are guilty of anything—or that I believe her but not you. It simply means that there is a potential conflict of interest if I represent both of you at the same time. And if I get conflicted out of the case, then I can’t represent either of you.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah…I think I understand. Looks like I need a local lawyer of my own.”

  “Have anyone in mind?”

  “I think my mom knows a guy here in Delphi,” Joe said, mustering up a small measure of enthusiasm. “He’s a good guy. Stanley Kennelworth. We’ll get ahold of him. I’d best do that pretty quick so he can be with me at my bail hearing.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch with him too. I want this to be a team effort. I plan on working closely with him to coordinate a joint defense strategy.”

  Will wished Joe well and told him that he would do his best to make sure Mary Sue was well-represented. Then he left the jail and headed to the county prosecutor’s office.

  Harry Putnam was out for a long lunch, so Will told the secretary that he would be back to visit him shortly. He decided to spend the lunch hour investigating the local venue. He strolled through the old Juda County Courthouse, a brown-brick structure from the turn of the century—four stories high—rising up over the main street of Delphi. The marble floors were worn and smooth, and the ceilings were high, with painted murals. The sounds of footsteps and voices echoed up and down the hallways.

  Outside the courthouse Will walked down Main Street. It was his custom to size up the demographics of every out-of-state community where he was going to try a case. What kind of agriculture supported the area? What were its industries? Did they vote Republican, Democrat, or Independent? Who were the founding families everybody knew?

  He noticed some posters along the street for a city-council election. Some announcements for the local high school play. The Honorary President of the state Rotary Clubs—a handsome, prosperous-looking fellow who appeared to be in his thirties, named Jason Bell Purdy—had his name and picture on flyers in the store windows. He was inviting the townsfolk to the annual pancake breakfast and fundraiser for Project Child Care—“offering affordable day care for low-income families.” Next to his name were the words “Delphi’s Favorite Son.”

  Will also noticed a few for-sale signs and for-rent signs up and down the street. Most of them were listings of the Jason Bell Purdy Realty and Development Company.

  A few blocks down, at the corner, there was a large Catholic church—St. Stephen the Martyr—with a sign outside listing Father Harold Godfrey as the rector. Beneath his name were the words “A Clear Conscience Lets in the Light.” Across from the church was a Nickel, Dime & Dollar Store, on a cross street that bore the name “Stanfield Purdy Avenue.”

  As he walked back to the courthouse, Will decided that he was starting to get a good feel for the town.

  By the time Will returned to the prosecutor’s office, Harry Putnam was back from lunch. He greeted Will with a firm handshake and a hearty welcome.

  “You’re a bit outside of the Commonwealth of Virginia, Mr. Chambers. What brings you to our fair city of Delphi?” Putnam asked, leaning back in his desk chair.

  “I’ve just been retained to represent Mary Sue Fellows.”

  “Well, that is very interesting. You licensed to practice here in Georgia?”

  “No. I’ve got local counsel. I’m filing a motion for pro hac vice admission for her case,” Will replied.

  “Don’t say. Then I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Fire away.”

  “If you represent her—you must have been in touch with her.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where is she, Mr. Chambers? Where is your client? We’ve got a warrant out for her.”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “You don’t know,” Putnam repeated, nodding his head a little as he said the words. “Counselor, did you bother to ask your client that? Did you ask where she’s got that little boy of hers hidden away—that little Joshua who is being poisoned by his mother?”

  “Mr. Putnam, you know better than that,” Will countered. “Even if I knew that, to disclose that conversation would be to violate attorney–client privilege.”

  Putnam’s face was now twisted up, his eyebrows down low over his eyes, which were reduced to mere slits.

  “Counselor, you may want to think about heading back to old Virginny. Otherwise, you’d better be ready for some old-fashioned bare-knuckle boxing here in Delphi. We’re mighty serious about child abuse. I’m not about to let some outside counsel ride in here and tell me he’s going to hide a fugitive from justice—while that fugitive is slowly killing her little boy. Not going to happen. Not here. Not with me. You read me?”

  Will nodded, managed a smile, and rose to say goodbye. As he was leaving he turned and said, “I do read you, Mr. Putnam,” squelching
the temptation to add what he was already thinking—I’m reading you like a fifty-cent comic book.

  10

  MARY SUE FELLOWS HAD BEEN at the ranch on the Sioux Indian reservation for only a few days. Yet she already felt a strange sense of belonging. The geography of the place gave her a feeling of shelter and safety. She would take Joshua out on walks through the canyons of the South Dakota Badlands. They would stop and gaze at the high plateaus of brown stone and tan earth that jutted up, surrounding them with sheer rock walls that towered up into the open sky.

  At the end of the afternoon, as sunset was approaching, the shadows would begin creeping over the rock formations, casting strange shapes over the canyon walls where darkness was meeting the last light of the day. Along the high plateaus that were flat as tabletops, the rims would create iridescent slashes of brilliant orange and red as the fireball of the sun would illuminate a few streaks of clouds like painted horse’s tails.

  Though Mary Sue still felt the lonely desperation of her plight, she was also convinced that she had witnessed the hand of Divine Providence—like a guide that was going on before her.

  When Mary Sue had accelerated away from their family farm in the truck that day, her mind had been racing. How could she and Joshua be safe as long as they remained in the state? Why not get out of Georgia—at least until she found out why two sheriff’s squad cars and the case worker from Social Services had descended on their home with no warning? That was when Mary Sue settled on a plan—she would get to the airport and take the first flight to Iowa. She had an uncle there. She would ask to stay with him until she learned something from Joe. Mary Sue had never been close to her uncle, but now she was desperate.

  But then, a few miles from the airport, her truck unexpectedly shuddered violently and started slowing down, and the oil light and the engine light went on. Mary Sue pulled over to the shoulder as smoke poured out of the front. She buried her face in her hands and cried out to God. Then, after wiping her face with her blouse sleeve, she leaped out of the truck, lifted the hood, and climbed back into the cab to figure out what to do.

  That was when a dusty Suburban with South Dakota license plates pulled up behind her. There were three men in the front seat—all of them appeared to be American Indians. Mary Sue also saw a woman in the back seat.

  She had a momentary sense of fear. But then one of the passengers walked up to the window with a broad smile. She instantly recognized the letters “WWJD” on his baseball hat as he began to introduce himself and ask how he could help.

  Andrew White Arrow, along with one of his brothers—Tommy White Arrow—tinkered a bit with the engine. As they worked, the two of them seemed to be muttering together. Andrew smiled and appeared to be urging his brother to do something. Tommy, who was shorter and stockier than Andrew, was shaking his head “no” and glancing occasionally at Mary Sue, who stayed in the cab.

  After a few minutes, the two came around to the side of the truck. Mary Sue rolled down her window.

  “As best as we can see, this engine is shot—you may have thrown a piston,” Andrew said. “Can we give you a lift? There has to be a gas station not too far from here.”

  Mary Sue shook her head. “Thanks anyway. I don’t have time to get this fixed. I’m trying to make a flight at the airport.”

  Andrew’s face brightened. “I’m headed there too. My flight doesn’t leave till tomorrow—we could at least take you there. Which flight are you taking?”

  Mary Sue looked away. “I’m not sure which flight.”

  “You’re not sure what flight you’re taking?” Tommy asked suspiciously from behind Andrew’s tall frame. “Check your ticket. You have a ticket, right?”

  “Not exactly,” Mary Sue replied.

  Tommy threw his hands up, said something in another language, and began walking away. Andrew told his brother to hold on. Then the tall Indian man turned to Mary Sue, looking her full in the face. “Are you are in some kind of trouble?”

  She hesitated for a moment. But she had no choice now. Nothing short of complete trust would do.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m in some kind of trouble with Social Services. Maybe the police. I don’t know all of it. I just know that I have been wrongly treated. My child may be in jeopardy. I have to get out of the state before something terrible happens to my little boy. Before they take him away from me.”

  “How can we help?” Andrew asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you can’t. All I know is that I called out to God in the middle of this disaster—and that’s when you drove up.”

  “I’m a Christian,” Andrew said. “I know God works like that—strangers coming from far away—being led to his children when they are in trouble.”

  Then Andrew stepped back from the truck window. He walked over to his brother and spoke with him for a while. Tommy seemed wary of Mary Sue. Whatever it was that was being said, he didn’t seem to be persuaded.

  Then Andrew gestured and seemed to be making another point. As he did, Tommy looked back at the truck, and his face softened. Finally, Andrew strode over to Mary Sue and said that Tommy and his brother Danny, who had been sitting in the back of the Suburban with their sister, Katherine, would be willing to take her to the family ranch in South Dakota. She could stay for a few days in an empty cabin they had there. Andrew added that Katherine lived on the ranch with her husband, though Tommy, who owned the ranch, ran things.

  Mary Sue hesitated, and she pursed her lips as she struggled with her decision.

  “My brother Tommy is a good man—he’s not a Christian, he follows the old Lakota religion—but he is a trustworthy man. I will pledge my life on that,” Andrew said. “And I think you will like Katherine—and Danny too. But it’s your decision.”

  Mary Sue finally agreed to go with them, though she still felt a healthy measure of caution.

  They took Andrew to the motel across from the airport in Atlanta. He was scheduled to fly to Minneapolis the next day—he had left his car there after attending an educational conference. Since he was still on sabbatical from his small college in New Mexico, he planned on driving from Minneapolis to Tommy’s place in South Dakota, where he would visit for a few weeks.

  On the way to the airport, Andrew probed the background of Mary Sue’s problems with Social Services. He listened intently, asking pointed questions that Mary Sue was quick to answer.

  Suddenly Andrew remarked, “I heard on the radio, just before we saw your truck, that a farmer from some city—a city with an ancient-sounding name…oh, what was it—Delphi, that’s it. The man was arrested for child abuse.”

  “Delphi?” Mary Sue said, her voice rising.

  Andrew nodded quickly. “They said they were looking for the mother and a child.”

  “That’s Joe. Father in heaven, they’ve arrested him,” Mary Sue said, her eyes closed and her voice trembling.

  Andrew suggested that perhaps he could give some encouragement to her husband. Perhaps he could visit Joe in jail—rent a car and drive over to Delphi—before his flight left.

  Mary Sue approved—and asked Andrew to make sure to tell Joe that Joshua was fine, that she was in good spirits, and that she loved him. Then they dropped off Andrew at the Airliner Motel.

  The drive to South Dakota was tense at first. Mary Sue tried to engage the group in conversation, as Joshua dozed off and on in his car seat. Gradually, after a few hours, she started feeling more at ease.

  She learned that Andrew and Tommy and their sister, Katherine—a midwife with some nursing training—had come to Georgia to secure custody of Danny. Many years before, Danny had suffered a head injury on a construction site and had been left mildly brain-damaged. But for reasons that were too complicated for Mary Sue to understand, Andrew and Tommy had had to wage a several-year administrative battle to gain Danny’s release from the state institution and into their care.

  Because of their mutual nursing interests, Mary Sue was quick to relate to Katherine, whose
warm, quiet voice and round pleasant face were set off by an infectious smile.

  On the other hand, Tommy seemed angry—and he was fiercely protective of the political rights of his tribe and of the Native American religion that he practiced.

  During the long ride to South Dakota, Tommy vented his anger in long diatribes about—among other things—General Custer, the breaking of treaties by the American government, the squalor on American reservations, discrimination against Indians in American movies, the failure of American Indians to coalesce into a strong political force, the massacre at Wounded Knee in 1890 and the uprising by Indian activists at that same site in 1973, and finally, his distrust of white police officers.

  Mary Sue concluded that it was this last grievance that must have motivated him to help out an unknown woman and her sick child.

  On the other hand, she found Danny to be a delightful person. His relaxed, smiling demeanor was a welcome contrast to Tommy’s angry political speeches. Danny was fond of reading the highway signs, reciting them with glee. He also had a remarkable knack of hearing an advertising jingle on the radio only once and then repeating it in toto, complete with mimicked intonation—sometimes even songs. Clutching a crystal-blue yoyo in his hand—which he played with expertly—he kept Joshua entertained for hours in the back seat of the Suburban.

  That trip to South Dakota now seemed, not days, but years away. They had arrived at the ranch, and it hadn’t taken Mary Sue and Joshua long to settle in.

  Tommy’s ranch consisted of several acres of horse enclosures and a few houses. The main lodge housed Tommy, his sister, Katherine, and her husband. There were two other smaller cabins fifty yards down the road. One was a guest cabin left open for visitors—mostly relatives of theirs. The other was Andrew’s when he came to stay for a few weeks at a time.

  The lodge and the two small cabins had been built by Andrew and Tommy by hand—fashioned from split logs that had been cleanly cut and varnished. The houses were on high ground, up from the floor of the canyons near them, so that during the occasional torrential rainstorms they were never in danger of being flooded.