He moved back down to the aisle seat where Little Jake sat and knelt down. “You be very, very good, understand?” he said quietly. “Don’t wiggle, and don’t whisper.”
Little Jake pressed his lips tight, and a tear trickled down his cheek. “Are they gonna take you away today?”
“We’ll try real hard to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Jake told him. He leaned in and kissed the boy’s cheek.
People whispered.
Jake took Randy’s arm and moved to take his place beside Peter at the defendant’s table. Randy sat on Jake’s other side, and Jeff sat next to her. Peter stepped to a table across the aisle and shook hands with the prosecutor, then moved back beside Jake.
“That’s Randall Prescott,” he told Jake quietly.
Jake glanced at the man, stiffening when he saw Harley Wicks sitting next to Prescott at the prosecutor’s table.
“What is Wicks doing here?” he grumbled to Peter.
“He has a right to be here, but he can’t ask you any questions.”
“I’d like to knock the man across the room. Having him over there feeding questions to Prescott doesn’t help my ability to stay calm.”
“And they know that. That’s why he’s here. You remember that. One blow-up from you, and they’ve won, Jake.”
Jake seethed inside—not just knowing Wicks was here but also realizing Brad Buckley was around somewhere and might even testify in some way. In spite of a crowd stuffed into every corner of the courtroom and hanging over banisters above, everyone quieted when the court bailiff entered the room and with a booming voice ordered that everyone rise and be silent for the entrance of Judge Thomas P. Carter. The judge stepped up to his chair and pounded a gavel, telling everyone to be seated and warning them that he did not intend for this procedure to turn into some kind of circus.
“Anyone who causes a commotion will be immediately removed!” he announced.
Jake studied the tall, austere, and graying man, catching honesty in his blue eyes. One thing he’d learned over the years was how to read a man. The judge glanced at Jake, and both men studied each other a moment.
“Jake Harkner,” the judge spoke up then. “Please rise.”
Jake stood up. Peter also rose, as did Prosecutor Prescott.
“Do you understand why you’re here, Mr. Harkner?”
“I do, Your Honor.”
“And you and your attorney have agreed to allow a hearing before me, rather than a trial by jury, in the matter of a shooting that took place three and a half weeks ago at the Brown Palace in which a man named Mike Holt was shot dead?”
Peter nodded and answered for Jake. “We agree.”
“And you also agree that I reserve the right to either demand a trial by jury or to sentence Jake Harkner myself without a trial if I so choose?”
“We agree,” Peter answered. Jake nodded.
The judge turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Prescott, do you agree to this?”
“I do, Your Honor, as long as the prosecution is allowed to call a few witnesses and to question Jake Harkner.”
“And, Mr. Harkner, do you understand that I could sentence you to anything from first-degree murder—”
Jake heard Evie gasp. “Daddy!” she whispered.
“—to simple self-defense?” the judge finished.
“As long as Mr. Harkner has a right to appeal your decision to a higher authority, Your Honor,” Peter replied. “However, I believe when we are through that Mr. Harkner will be exonerated of any and all charges.”
“So be it. Everyone may sit down.” The judge pounded his gavel again.
Jake reached behind him and took Evie’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly as the judge turned to the prosecutor.
“Mr. Prescott, you may call your first witness. And please keep in mind, Mr. Prescott and Mr. Brown, that I have requested neither of you bring a parade of witnesses to repeat the same story over and over. This hearing is simply to state the facts and to allow Mr. Harkner a chance to refute any and all accusations in a cross-examination. And I might remind both of you that I reserve the right to question Mr. Harkner myself.”
The prosecutor and Peter nodded.
“I would first like to call two witnesses to the stand to testify to exactly what they saw the night of the shooting,” Prescott told the judge. “They are not character witnesses but are here strictly to explain what happened.”
“Fine. I wasn’t there, so I’d like to hear an eyewitness account,” the judge told him. He looked at Peter. “Do you have any objections, Mr. Brown?”
“Not as long as they simply state facts.”
“Call your witnesses, Mr. Prescott.”