The Accused

  “Please, Mom, you had no idea.”

  “It’s the right thing to do, Theo,” Mr. Boone added. “We may have to appear in Youth Court and talk about what these two guys did. Your mother cannot represent Mrs. Finn when we may have to testify against her sons. I know it’s sticky, but there’s no other choice.”

  Theo shrugged, secretly delighted that all Finns would be gone from Boone & Boone.

  Theo was thrilled. His parents were relieved. Even Judge looked happier.

  “It’s Monday,” Theo said. “I’m going to run over and see Ike.”

  Bob Dylan was playing softly on the stereo. Ike was smoking a pipe and a cloud of blue fog hung over the room. Theo had sent Ike a dozen text messages throughout the day to keep him posted. His last one read: Finns arrested. Full confessions. Whoopee.

  “Congratulations, Ike,” Theo said as he dropped the fifty dollars on Ike’s insanely cluttered desk. “You did it.”

  Ike grinned because it was not the right moment for modesty. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”

  “Beautiful, Ike. Just beautiful.”

  “What kind of mood is Marcella in?”

  “Not too good. She’s blaming herself.”

  “She should have realized, Theo. Marcella is too smart not to have suspected something from one of her cases.”

  “Don’t blame her, Ike. She feels lousy enough.”

  “Okay, but if I thought about it, then she should have thought about it, too.”

  “Agreed. Are we going to tell her about snooping through her files?”

  Ike kicked back and put his feet onto his desk, knocking off a few files in the process. “You know, Theo, I’ve been thinking about that. Now is not the time to come clean.”

  “So when?”

  “Don’t know. Let some time pass. Everybody’s kinda edgy right now. Your parents have been worried sick. Let things cool down, and then we’ll discuss the matter, just the two of us.”

  “I’d feel better if we told my parents everything.”

  “Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. Look, Theo, honesty is a great virtue. You should always strive to be honest and trustworthy, and if your mother asked you tonight if you stole the password, gave it to me, and thus allowed me access to her divorce files, you would say Yes. That would be the honest thing to do. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “But she doesn’t know, and she may never know. Therefore, is it dishonest not to tell her?”

  “It feels dishonest.”

  “You’re thirteen years old. Have you told your mother every bad thing you’ve gotten away with in your life?”

  “No.”

  “Of course not. No one does, Theo. We all have our little secrets, and as long as they’re harmless, who really cares? With time, the secrets often go away and things don’t matter anymore.”

  “What if someone checks the entry record to the firm’s InfoBrief and sees that it was accessed off-site?”

  “Well, if you are confronted, then you tell the truth. And, I’ll step in, tell the truth, too, and take all the blame.”

  “You can’t take all the blame, Ike, because I stole the password.”

  “Under the circumstances, it was the right thing to do. I’ll have a little chat with your parents and explain that I insisted on looking at the files. We’ll fight and all that, but we’ve been fighting for a long time. Sometimes you gotta fight, Theo. Remember?”

  “I guess, but I still don’t feel good about it.”

  “Let’s do this, Theo. Let’s not mention this issue again for one full month. I’m writing this down. One month from today we’ll discuss it again.”

  Theo thought about it for a moment, then reluctantly said, “Okay.” Theo knew, though, that it was not okay, and he knew it would bug him until he told his mother everything.

  “Mom says you’re invited to dinner tonight at Robilio’s.”

  “Tell her I said thanks.”

  “I need to go. I don’t know what to say, Ike. You’re the greatest.”

  “Not the greatest, Theo, but maybe in the top five.”

  Theo bounded down the steps, hopped on his bike, and headed for the office. He pedaled furiously as he flew down the street. Everything seemed lighter—the air, the mood, the bike.

  Theodore Boone, no longer the accused.

  Chapter 1

  Theodore Boone was an only child and for that reason usually had breakfast alone. His father, a busy lawyer, was in the habit of leaving early and meeting friends for coffee and gossip at the same downtown diner every morning at seven. Theo’s mother, herself a busy lawyer, had been trying to lose ten pounds for at least the past ten years, and because of this she’d convinced herself that breakfast should be nothing more than coffee with the newspaper. So he ate by himself at the kitchen table, cold cereal and orange juice, with an eye on the clock. The Boone home had clocks everywhere, clear evidence of organized people.

  Actually, he wasn’t completely alone. Beside his chair, his dog ate, too. Judge was a thoroughly mixed mutt whose age and breeding would always be a mystery. Theo had res­cued him from near death with a last-second appearance in Animal Court two years earlier, and Judge would always be grateful. He preferred Cheerios, same as Theo, and they ate together in silence every morning.

  At 8:00 a.m., Theo rinsed their bowls in the sink, placed the milk and juice back in the fridge, walked to the den, and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Off to school,” he said.

  “Do you have lunch money?” she asked, the same question five mornings a week.

  “Always.”

  “And your homework is complete?”

  “It’s perfect, Mom.”

  “And I’ll see you when?”

  “I’ll stop by the office after school.” Theo stopped by the office every day after school, without fail, but Mrs. Boone always asked.

  “Be careful,” she said. “And remember to smile.” The braces on his teeth had now been in place for over two years and Theo wanted desperately to get rid of them. In the meantime, though, his mother continually reminded him to smile and make the world a happier place.

  “I’m smiling, Mom.”

  “Love you, Teddy.”

  “Love you back.”

  Theo, still smiling in spite of being called “Teddy,” flung his backpack across his shoulders, scratched Judge on the head and said good-bye, then left through the kitchen door. He hopped on his bike and was soon speeding down Mallard Lane, a narrow leafy street in the oldest section of town. He waved at Mr. Nunnery, who was already on his porch and settled in for another long day of watching what little traffic found its way into their neighborhood, and he whisked by Mrs. Goodloe at the curb without speaking because she’d lost her hearing and most of her mind as well. He did smile at her, though, but she did not return the smile. Her teeth were somewhere in the house.

  It was early spring and the air was crisp and cool. Theo pedaled quickly, the wind stinging his face. Homeroom was at eight forty and he had important matters before school. He cut through a side street, darted down an alley, dodged some traffic, and ran a stop sign. This was Theo’s turf, the route he traveled every day. After four blocks the houses gave way to offices and shops and stores.

  The county courthouse was the largest building in downtown Strattenburg (the post office was second, the library third). It sat majestically on the north side of Main Street, halfway between a bridge over the river and a park filled with gazebos and birdbaths and monuments to those killed in wars. Theo loved the courthouse, with its air of authority, and people hustling importantly about, and somber notices and schedules tacked to the bulletin boards. Most of all, Theo loved the courtrooms themselves. There were small ones where more private matters were handled without juries, then there was the main courtroom on the second floor where lawyers battled like gladiators and judges ruled like kings.

  At the age of thirteen, Theo was still undecided about his future. One day he dreamed of being a famous trial law
yer, one who handled the biggest cases and never lost before juries. The next day he dreamed of being a great judge, noted for his wisdom and fairness. He went back and forth, changing his mind daily.