Finding Isadora(30)

This was a test, I reminded myself. Tests weren’t supposed to be easy. Besides, my father’s freedom was the important issue here, not my silly fascination with Richard’s father.

Gabriel didn’t bother with greetings, and he looked at Grace not at me. “Seen the paper?”

We both nodded.

“Shitty headline, but it won’t influence what happens this morning. Just spoke to Crown Counsel. She’s going to argue against release but not too vigorously, just to keep the cops happy. Think we’ll be okay, but there’s never a guarantee.”

“Still, it’s good news,” Grace said, giving him a bright smile.

“Got Jimmy Lee’s passport?” he asked.

She handed it over.

“We’re in here.” He gestured toward a courtroom.

Inside, Grace and I found two seats on a hard wooden bench and Gabriel moved past us to talk to a woman in a navy suit. I could see only her back—shortish, stocky, with dirty blonde hair in a tidy twist very much like Grace’s.

A clerk called court into session and I dragged my attention away from Gabriel and concentrated on the Provincial Court judge, a petite, brown-skinned woman named Harminder Sharma. Grace and I watched how she dealt with the first cases that were called. “She seems fair,” I whispered to my mother, who responded, “I don’t know, she looks awfully conservative.”

The clerk called Jimmy Lee’s case. Gabriel and the woman in the navy suit both rose and moved in front of the bar, taking seats at opposite tables. Obviously, she was the Crown Counsel assigned to the case.

My father walked into the room, escorted by a uniformed Sheriff. Jimmy Lee wore faded jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. His gray-brown beard and mustache contrasted with his shaven head. He winked at Grace and me, reassuring us he was okay, then shook Gabriel’s hand and sat down beside him.

Grace grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I squeezed back.

Crown Counsel rose and said to the judge, “Barbara Hodgson for the Crown, Your Honor.”

Gabriel rose. “Gabriel DeLuca for the defense.”

“The Crown intends to show cause why the accused should be retained in custody,” Ms. Hodgson said.

Grace let out a little hiss and I murmured, “Sshh.”

“Proceed, Ms. Hodgson,” the judge said.

The blond lawyer glanced down at her papers, then back up. “It’s the Crown’s position that Mr. Wheeler is both a flight risk and a danger to the community. He’s charged with arson with disregard to human life, an indictable offence carrying a maximum sentence of life in prison. The victim is in critical condition in the hospital and may die, in which case the Crown will seek the maximum penalty.”

Grace moved closer to me until our shoulders touched.

The lawyer consulted her notes again. “Although Mr. Wheeler was granted Canadian citizenship in 1985, he also retained American citizenship. He owns no property in Canada. In 1970, in Boston, he burned his draft card and fled to Canada. He has a clear pattern of running rather than submitting to the legal jurisdiction of the country of his residence.”

“If this isn’t her idea of a vigorous argument, I’d hate to hear her when she’s really got it in for someone,” Grace whispered nervously.

“Furthermore,” the lawyer said, “Mr. Wheeler has been anything but a model citizen. He has been convicted of or pled guilty to more than a dozen offences since he moved to Canada. He’s a troublemaker and a clear danger to the community.” She stopped, checked her notes again, then sat down.

Gabriel rose. “Mr. Wheeler does indeed have quite a record in our courts,” he said, speaking easily and less briskly than the prosecutor. “But he has never missed a court appearance, much less fled the country. He has a job as a social worker which he’s held for over ten years. His wife and daughter, both present in the courtroom today”—he gestured toward us and the judge’s eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses, studied us intently—”live and work in Vancouver. He is not a flight risk and—”

Ms. Hodgson jumped up. “He’s never been charged with anything so serious. He’s never faced years in jail.”

“Charged being the operative word,” Gabriel said calmly. “Mr. Wheeler is innocent, as we will prove if the Crown decides to proceed with this case. And yes, he has never been charged with such a serious offence before, and that’s because the man is incapable of anything so heinous. He is a pacifist who’s had a considerable impact on making our society more just for all its citizens. And, I would point out that while Mr. Wheeler is a social activist, he, like Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., believes in the methods of passive resistance, passive protest. He does not commit acts of aggression.”

“Clever Gabriel,” Grace murmured, “mentioning Gandhi to an Indo-Canadian judge.”

Crown Counsel said, “He has resisted arrest and used violence against peace officers.”

Grace began to say something, but I hushed her so I could hear Gabriel.

Voice calm, he said, “Only when the police officers themselves used excessive violence in attempting to arrest him. When someone sprays him with mace or clubs him over the head, he tends to get … excitable. Don’t we all?”

“Violence is violence. He’s a danger and a flight risk.” Barbara Hodgson sat down.