Chapter 12

Eva wanted to let Timothy sit on her lap while the judge questioned him, but that was not to be.

"He'll be fine," said the judge. "I just want to ask him some questions. You can wait right over there."

He pointed to the front row of the gallery. I wanted to go stand beside her, but thought better of it. Casper was already making a big deal of our relationship.

Instead, I walked Timothy up to the bar and pushed open the swinging gate.

"You want to go sit in the chair your mom was just sitting in?" I asked.

"Okay," he said. He was aware that something was happening, but wasn't quite sure about what it was. He was also aware that Wally was sitting in a chair, just inside the bar to his left. He moved as far right as he could and faced Wally, ending up moving sideways toward the bench.

Wally opened his mouth to say something and I said "You keep your mouth shut, Wally."

He looked at me with murder in his eye, but I'd seen that before, and right now he wasn't on PCP either. He knew it too, because his face went calm and he sat back and smiled. I expected the judge to remind me he had a bailiff, but he didn't say a word.

He stopped as he passed his mother and hugged her legs. Looking up he asked "Are you okay?" She managed a smile and nodded. He turned to crane his head up at the judge. The bailiff opened the door to the witness booth for him and he went in and climbed up on the chair. He looked around.

"Timothy, is it?" asked Judge Pickett. When the boy nodded the judge said "Timothy, do you know the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie?" The boy nodded again, and the judge said, "I want you to say something that you know isn't true. Will you do that for me?"

"You want me to tell a lie?" Timothy's voice was high.

"Just this once," said Pickett.

Timothy thought and then said, "If I jump off the house I can fly."

"Excellent," said the judge. "That is something that is not true, right? You can't fly for real, right?"

Timothy nodded a third time. I heard the court reporter mumbling into her covered microphone. She was most likely saying the boy had nodded or made affirmative motions.

"Everybody lies sometimes," said the judge. "That's normal. But you know that sometimes telling the truth is the most important thing you can do, right?"

"Yes sir!" said Timothy

"And right now is one of those times. It's really important that everything you say from now on is absolutely true. If you don't know the answer to one of my questions, just tell me you don't know. But don't make anything up, or say something that isn't true. It's really important. Do you understand me?"

Timothy nodded and the judge said, "Could you say either yes or no out loud for me?"

"Either yes or no," said Timothy clearly.

Wally snickered. Then he fell silent as the judge shot him a look.

"Answer me out loud from now on, all right?"

"Okay," said Timothy.

"Do you promise to tell the truth?"

"Yes sir."

The judge pointed at Wally. "Do you know that man over there?"

Timothy looked and then looked away. "Yes. He's the bad man who hurts me and mommy."

"What do you mean 'hurts'?" asked Pickett.

"He slaps me, and when mommy tells him to stop he knocks her on the floor. He made her mouth bleed and I threw my toy at him and he kicked me and I couldn't go to school for a long time."

"When did this happen, Timothy?"

The boy scrunched up his face, and thought for a while. "I wasn't in this grade," he said. "I was in Miss Roper's class then. And after that he went away for a long time and Mommy said he was gone and would never come back or hurt us again. But he did."

"Hurt you?" asked the judge.

"No, I mean he came back. That was when he tried to hurt Santa and take my drawing set."

Pickett said "Tell me what you remember about that night, Timothy. Tell me everything you can remember."

"Well, we got home from looking for a Christmas tree, except they were all too expensive, so we didn't get one, and then Santa knocked on the door. We don't have a chimney, so I guess he had to knock on the door. And I wasn't in bed yet, but he came in anyway and he gave me a really cool drawing set, with a bazillion things in it, and he said I could draw a picture of him."

He stopped and darted a look at Wally.

"Then he came in and Mommy said he wasn't supposed to be there and he said he knew but he didn't care and he was yelling like always, and he said my drawing set was too fancy and that he was going to take it. And he wanted something Santa gave Mommy too, but Santa said he couldn't have them and then he cussed at Santa and started fighting with him, and Santa said for me to take my drawing set to my room, but I didn't go because I was afraid he would hurt mommy again, so I stayed and Mommy went to help Santa because that man was on something. That's what Santa said. I can't remember what he said it was but Santa said to call 911 and the man said he'd always wanted to do something I'm not allowed to say to a cop. I didn't understand that, because the policemen didn't come for a little while, and all they were on was the floor, and that's all I remember."

"Okay," said the judge. "Good job. You said that man over there," he pointed to Wally "said he wanted to do something you're not allowed to say to a cop. I'm interested in that. If I ask your mother to give you permission to say it, would you tell me what he said?"

Timothy looked at his mother. She was in front of me, so I couldn't see her face, but I saw her nod, and heard her say "It's all right, just this once."

Timothy blushed, but he spoke. "He said he always wanted to fuck a cop."

"I see," said Pickett. "Thank you. I want to show you something." He motioned to the bailiff and said "knife," holding his hand out flat. The bailiff got the plastic bagged evidence and gave it to the judge, who held it up so Timothy could see it. "Have you ever seen this before?"

Timothy nodded.

"You need to answer me out loud, Timothy."

"Yes."

"Where have you seen it before?"

"That man took it out of his pocket. Except it wasn't open then, like it is now."

"When did he take it out of his pocket, Timothy?"

"That was just before he started fighting with Santa, and said that thing I'm not supposed to say."

"You keep calling him 'that man.' Do you know his name, Timothy?"

"I forget his real name. I know he hates to be called Wally. My mom has a name for him, but I'm not allowed to say that either."

"I think you can say it just this once," said Pickett. "We can ask your mom again."

We all looked at Eva, who had her head down and her eyes covered by her hand shading her forehead. She was obviously embarrassed. She took her hand away and looked up. "Go ahead," she sighed.

We all looked back at Timothy, who sat up straight, and said "Shithead. Mommy calls him Shithead."

The judge sat, staring at his legal pad, upon which he had made no notes whatsoever. Then he said "All right. Thank you, Timothy. You can go sit with your mother now."

"I'd like to cross examine him," said Casper.

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