His decision was already made, but Judge Patrick Doyle continued to listen to the case before him. It was his job, after all. For twenty years, he'd sat on this bench, and he hated cases like this one. Stoically, the judge considered the young man behind the defense table. The boy didn't meet his stare. Instead, his head hung low while his leg twitched like a jackhammer trying to chip away at the marble floor.
Judge Doyle reviewed the case file. The boy's life had not been easy. He'd been raised by an overworked single mother on the South Side of Chicago after his father passed. The only bright spot in his life was a school principal who acted as a surrogate dad. Both supporters, the boy's short mother and the large administrator, sat in the front row wearing their Sunday best. The mother had been repeatedly threatened with removal for her outbursts. In contrast, the big man had not uttered a word during the entire trial. His calm presence had provided much-needed support for the fourteen-year-old boy accused of rape.
To draw the judge's attention back to the proceedings, the State's Attorney cleared his throat. Judge Doyle lifted his head and nodded for the skinny prosecutor to continue his speech.
"And therefore, your Honor, that is why the State believes you should find the defendant to be delinquent."
"Bullshit," the boy's mother whispered loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Judge Doyle banged his gavel down so hard that the water in his drinking glass sloshed out on his notes.
"This is your final warning. One more word from you, and I will find you in contempt. Am I understood?"
"Yes, your Honor," the mother replied sarcastically.
As the court recorder finished her transcription, she glanced at Judge Doyle and offered him the tiniest of smiles. Judge Doyle remained stoic. When it was apparent there would be no further outbursts, the defense attorney gave his young client a reassuring pat on the arm and stood up. He smoothed the creases of his department store suit and began his closing statement.
"Your Honor, I am appalled that the State has wasted your time today— not to mention my client's. I don't need to remind you that the facts, in this case, are overwhelmingly in favor of his innocence. The State brought forth no physical evidence to tie my client to the crime. Furthermore, I'd like to remind the court that my client has a solid alibi for the time in question. He was at home caring for his little sister, as observed by multiple witnesses."
The attorney moved to the center of the courtroom. "The only evidence the State has against my client is his confession. A confession that was obtained through an outright abuse of power. The interrogating officers questioned him for over ten hours without a lawyer or legal guardian present. They provided him key elements of the case and then claimed he was incriminating himself. They lied, manipulated, and controlled a minor who did not have the mental capacity to understand the severity of the situation."
Judge Doyle made a note on a dry spot on his legal pad. He did feel sorry for the boy. When he realized the room was waiting for his attention, he set down his pen and nodded for the defense to proceed while the boy squirmed in his chair, and his mother fumed behind him.
Continuing, the defense asked, "Your Honor, why didn't they sign it for him too, because it certainly wasn't his confession? They should be the ones going to prison, not my client. These despicable officers made a promise to this poor boy that if he would admit to the crime, he could get back home to care for his sister.
"That was a lie. A horrible lie. So please, your Honor, fix that mistake right now. My client is innocent— and the only reasonable verdict is to find Leroy Jones, Jr. not delinquent."
Impressed with the defense's appeal, Judge Doyle tilted his head towards the young lawyer who hadn't been the boy's attorney during the fact-finding hearing. The original attorney was dismissed due to incompetence. Prior to the detention hearing, the new defense argued the charges should be dropped based on the facts. However, it was an election year for Judge Doyle, and he couldn't appear soft on violent crimes— in addition to his other outstanding commitments.
Judge Doyle steepled his hands underneath his chin and then folded them on top of his legal pad. The only noise in the room was from the court's security officer shifting his sizeable bulk from foot to foot next to the judge's bench. The fluorescent lights reflected off his polished dome. A second officer pretended to monitor the door while he stared out a back window at the sunny afternoon.
With a measured voice, Judge Doyle said, "I'd like to thank you both for your compelling arguments. They have brought all the facts of the case to light and make this decision— though difficult, an obvious and evident one for the court."
The attorneys leaned forward in their respective chairs. The boy looked up meekly while his mother chewed on her lip. The court recorder's fingers hovered over her keyboard. The tension in the room was palpable, even for the veteran judge.
"So— it is with a heavy heart that I find the defendant, Leroy Jones, Jr., delinquent. Thus, Mr. Jones will be remanded to the Cook County Juvenile Detention until his sentencing hearing."
Faces froze mid-expression. No one moved. The room appeared stuck in amber.
Then everything happened at once.
The defense gasped as the State's attorney nodded happily. The mother sucked in her breath while the color drained from her boy's face with the bad news. But most importantly, the principal jumped to his feet like a kangaroo on meth. His calm appearance fell away to reveal white-hot rage.
With surprising athleticism for someone his size, he hurdled the wood railing and sprinted towards the judge's bench. The large security officer rushed to intercept him as the mother laughed, and the court recorder dove for cover.
Judge Doyle sat dumbfounded, unable to move a muscle. This couldn't be happening. Never in all his years on the bench had someone tried to physically attack him. Verbal assaults occurred sporadically but never had someone dared to assault him in his own courtroom. It was simply unfathomable.
The principal leapt at the judge as the bailiff dove for his waist. The guard was able to wrap a hand around his belt, and the pair crashed into the raised desk. Their combined weight threatened to knock it off its base. The sound echoed through the nearly empty room like a shotgun blast. Judge Doyle almost tipped his chair over as he finally jumped back.
Quick as a whip, the principal untangled himself from the officer's grasp and clawed at the desktop. The judge's water glass was knocked over. It shattered on the floor. The second bailiff entered the fray, holding onto the struggling administrator until the first officer pounced on the man's back, pinning him to the carpet.
Spit flew from his mouth as the principal shouted, "That boy's innocent, you crooked son of a bitch. You will rot in Hell for this."
The first officer snaked an arm around his neck to choke him into submission as the second officer extracted a taser from his belt. He stuck the prongs deep into the man's ribs and pulled the trigger. The device emitted a rapid electrical ticking sound, followed by a high-pitched squeal from the man. He twitched violently, his back arched, then he fell limp, any hope of retribution lost. More security officers flooded into the room from surrounding courts. Some secured the judge, while others detained the delinquent.
Judge Doyle screamed, "Get that monster out of here."
The defense attorney shook his head. "What did you expect to happen? Your verdict was a complete travesty of justice."
"What did you say?"
"You heard me. You're the only monster here today."
Judge Doyle couldn't believe his ears. He'd almost died, and this man dared to call him a monster. It was for this reason that Doyle wouldn't lose any sleep over his backroom deal. He's sworn an oath to administer justice. And God damn it, he would. But shouldn't he be thoroughly compensated as well? This town was being torn apart by druggies, rapists, and gang bangers, and the only thing standing in their way were men like Judge Doyle.
Banging his gavel with such force, Judge Doyle almost snapped it into two pieces. "Officer, remove the defense from my court. I find him in contempt."
As he was escorted out, the mother got up from her seat and smoothed out her red dress. She met her scared son's eyes and used a finger to cross her heart as she mouthed a promise to him. The boy nodded his head in agreement.
Missing the interaction, thejudge would come to regret this day.