Bluegrass State of Mind(49)

Kenna had to bite the inside of her lip to stop from laughing. While Judge Cooper was giving the speech, his eyebrows were wagging and flopping around, making him look like an excited Old English sheepdog.

“No sir, I'm sure I'll think of some questions after I get my feet wet. Thank you for helping me adjust to your courtroom.”

Tom led her back into the courtroom and over to the stack of files. “From nine to nine-thirty is plea bargain time. Come by the office when you’re done and let me know how it went.”

Kenna glanced at her watch and saw that it was just a couple of minutes to nine. The men in the room were looking anxious to begin. She got the docket from the clerk and started putting case files in order.

“You about ready for us, little lady? We don’t have all morning, you know,” a defense attorney said from his slouched pose in a chair.

“I don’t know, Randy. You know women can never be on time. The more you hurry them along, the longer they take,” a man from the jury box shouted.

“You running on big city time?” yet another man called out.

Sink or swim. “Listen up, boys. I'll call you up in order of the docket to discuss any plea bargains. Come prepared and come quickly, something many of you should have no problem with. So, it shouldn’t be too hard for you all to get used to. We’ll discuss the case. You will put forth any argument for a reduction in sentence, and then I'll decide if we’ll take it. If so, we’ll go before the judge with the agreement. If not, you and your client will stick around until after the agreements and we’ll have a hearing. Got it?” She looked out over the sea of men and found some scoffs but quite a few nodding heads.

“All rise!” Noodle yelled. The thirty-minute plea bargain time had flown by, and before she knew it, Judge Cooper stepped up to the bench and sat down. The plea bargains were addressed rapidly, leaving only a couple to be heard before the judge. The first case was a simple destruction of property case involving high school seniors spray-painting the school. Some of the boys had accepted pleas, but one wanted to present evidence that he was at the school running on the track at the time and had nothing to do with it, though some of the boys caught red-handed still pointed fingers at him. The result was three months’ probation with seventy-five hours of community service. His record would be cleared at the end of the three months if he completed the terms of the court order. Kenna was pleased, but her pleasure was short-lived as she picked up the last file. One more to go, then she could take a breath.

“11-C-A190, State versus Tony Chapman. All parties and witnesses come forward to be heard,” Noodle announced and gave a little wink to Kenna.

The parties were sworn in and Kenna knew this was going to be interesting. Her witness was a priest and a fourth-grade special needs teacher. The defense’s witnesses were the alleged criminal, who looked a lot like a twenty-five-year-old version of the geeky characters Anthony Michael Hall played, and his wife, a stern-looking woman with black hair pulled tightly into a bun. She was pretty. But with her baggy clothes and no make-up, she looked more like fifty than thirty.

“Miss Mason, you may begin your questioning,” Judge Cooper said with a flick of his wrist.

“Good morning, Mr. Chapman. Could you tell us where you were at twelve o’clock on the afternoon of March 4th?”

Tony looked down at his feet. “I stopped by St. Francis for my lunch break.”

“What were you doing at St. Francis?”

“I went for confession.”

“Did you get to speak to Father James?

“No, he wasn’t available.”

“So, what did you decide to do then?”

“I waited for him in the confessional until he showed up.”

“That’s all you did, Mr. Chapman?”

“Um, yes?”

Kenna waved to Father James and had him step forward. “Father, do you remember the day Mr. Chapman came to see you for confession?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you tell us what happened that day?”

“I was giving a tour of the church when we approached the confessional. I was going to demonstrate how confession was done when I opened the door to find Mr. Chapman occupying the room.”

“And what was Mr. Chapman doing in the confessional?”

“He had his pants pulled down and was, um. How do I say this? He was enjoying his own company, so to say.”

“Then what happened, Father?”

“One of the children screamed, scaring Mr. Chapman.”

“Excuse me, Father, children?”

“Yes, I was giving a tour to the special-needs children of the St. Francis Middle School.”