Theo of Golden: A Novel by Allen Levi - 43

Golden County Government Center November term of Superior Court

The building, home to numerous local government offices, was abuzz with activity that morning. On judicial floors nine through thirteen, the broken pieces of failed marriages; the sordid consequences of bad choices; the pursuit of financial damages for injuries, real or fictional; and the undeniable consequences of poverty and ignorance filled the various courts with a sea of humanity.

The elevator to the courtroom of Judge Kenneth McLender was already crowded when Theo stepped on board. It made stops on every floor.

Theo got off at number nine and entered the courtroom. He spotted Kendrick in one of the front rows and took a seat beside him. A tense energy filled the air as victims of crime, family members, defendants, and lawyers waited in various states of nervousness for the day’s proceedings to begin.

Promptly at nine o’clock, Judge McLender entered the courtroom and, after making general announcements, began working through his docket. All matters that day concerned criminal offenses. It was a “hearing day,” meaning no trials would take place. The court was in session simply to rule on pre-trial motions, set bail, accept guilty pleas, and deal with probation violations.

Dark suits and briefcases, incomprehensible jargon, strong emotions, disappointment, and confusion were all on display as the judge made rulings and signed orders.

Theo was fascinated, and mildly horrified, at the casualness with which lives were shaped and altered by the pronouncements of an ordinary man wearing a robe.

Eventually, after two hours, the clerk called the case of “State v. Mateo Mendez.”

Mr. Mendez, the little man from Guatemala, was brought into the courtroom under the watchful eye of an armed officer. He was shackled, hands and feet, and wore an orange-and-white-striped jumpsuit that was standard attire for residents of the Golden Jail. He was clean shaven, and his hair was combed.

As he was led by a deputy from the jury box to the defendant’s table, an impeccably dressed lawyer stepped forward. A good lawyer. A tenacious lawyer known for getting good results. An expensive lawyer. Mr. Mendez did not know yet why the man had shown up at jail for a consultation with him a week earlier. Nor did he know who had hired him. He could only be thankful.

The little man still looked nervous and afraid before the bench. But he was no longer alone. He had the protection of an advocate.

Gracias, Padre .

Derrick Prentiss was seated at the prosecutor’s table. He had handled all cases for the State that morning.

Judge McLender addressed the attorneys. “I understand you have an agreement concerning the charge of vehicular homicide?”

Derrick nodded. “We have, Your Honor.”

He stated the terms of the agreement — the plea bargain — that had been reached. He turned and looked for several intentional seconds into the face of the accused.

It had been agreed that Mr. Mendez would plead guilty to vehicular homicide, a felony. His lawyer had tried valiantly to have the charge reduced to a misdemeanor. But the words “illegal immigrant kills American mother and cripples little girl” had too much political toxicity to make such an arrangement possible. The judge and the DA, after all, had to seek election every four years.

Mr. Mendez would enter a guilty plea and be sentenced to a jail term equal to the time he had already served.

Judge McLender, after some formalities, accepted the plea, signed an order, and called for a ten-minute recess.

Derrick found Kendrick and Theo and explained what had just taken place.

“So, I just want to be clear,” Kendrick said. “What you mean is, he’s done his time? They’re gonna let him out? Today.”

“That’s right. He’s done his time.”

Mr. Mendez would be processed out of the Golden Jail that very afternoon. The future, however, would remain uncertain for the little man. His lawyer had applied for and was trying to obtain a “hardship visa,” which would allow him to stay in Georgia and care for his daughter. The lawyer had little confidence it would be granted.

Mr. Mendez was now afloat in the legal whirlpool of immigration law. But some things were certain.

He would be released from jail.

He would be allowed to put on the new khaki pants and white shirt his lawyer had bought and delivered to the court deputies.

Within hours, he would see his wife and daughter. They had stayed the previous night at a nice hotel near the river. The room had been paid for, compliments of Mrs. Gidley. On her own initiative, and with considerable effort, she had located Mr. Mendez’s wife and daughter in Fincher County to inform them of the hearing.

Lamisha would sleep that night knowing that her letter to Mr. Mendez’s daughter, Maria, had been delivered and that the little man and his family would be together.

As he walked away from the defense table, Mr. Mendez’s eyes scanned the large courtroom until he found Kendrick. They locked eyes. The little man stopped briefly, bowed his head, and held up his unchained hands in prayer.