Chapter 33

Family Court

Jamie felt the smooth cold metal of the chair’s arms under her fingertips. She shifted her chair a little just to hear the sound, that awful scrape of its legs on the granite floor. She imagined traveling back in time to the moment, so many years ago, when she’d sat in this very chair outside the judge’s office. She’d stop that horrible lawyer from talking her parents into sending her to the Academy. Eyes closed, she concentrated and took a few deep breaths, visualizing that day. After several moments, she popped her eyes open. It hadn’t worked. She was still sitting alone in the hallway of the county courthouse. It was still today. It would always be today.

A different judge presided behind that closed door now. Judge Reinhardt had retired, probably to a charmed life spent fishing in the mountains and bunking in a rustic yet comfortable cabin. Who knew, thought Jamie, he could be living somewhere near the school.

School. What a joke. Jamie had left the Academy without a high school diploma and was still mortified that she’d had to get a GED after her release. But her SAT scores had been high, and her parents determined. Jamie had managed to get into Portland State University. She’d been just two semesters away from earning her degree in political science when the quake hit.

Over the years, Jamie had spent an inordinate amount of time imagining what type of criminal mastermind she could have become if her parents had opted for juvenile detention instead of the Academy. Nothing pedestrian like robbing liquor stores or local bank branches. Being a cat-burglar sounded appealing. Or high-tech crime. She didn’t want to think what the kids would have been like in juvie though. Her classmates at the Academy had been tough enough.

Regardless, here she sat, years later. Her life could be worse. It also could have been better. Her brother, Roderick, had gone to Stanford.

***

Roderick had sat next to her in this very spot on the day Jamie’s fate was sealed. Elbows on knees, head in his hands, black hair standing up in thatches between his fingers. She could almost believe he felt guilty, but she knew that all he really felt was relief at having dodged a bullet.

“Roderick,” she whispered to get his attention. He ignored her. She sighed audibly. “Roderick,” she repeated, louder this time.

He looked up, his eyes appeared black in the fluorescent lights. He looked strange, unfamiliar. She knew his eyes to be warm, full of mischief and fun. Everything was off here. It was all too bright. Her stomach started to hurt.

“What?” he hissed back.

Jamie nodded toward the closed door. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

She groaned. “Come on, you must have some idea.” Her right leg had started to bounce up and down. She tried to steady it. Parents with babies and toddlers on laps, children with legs dangling, teenagers slumped in boredom, and grandparents all sat scattered in bunches up and down the long hallway of the courthouse, waiting to learn the fate of loved ones. “Go check.”

“I’m not going in there,” he said, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Roderick was dressed in the white shirt and black tie he’d worn to Aunt Evelyn’s funeral the month before. Jamie’s cousins, Maddie and Matilda, had gotten super weird around him. They asked her stupid questions, like, if he had a girlfriend or what types of music he liked, so they could pretend to like the same bands. She’d overheard them whispering and giggling about how cute he was. Gross, she thought.

“Come on,” Jamie said again. “You’re eighteen. That makes you a grown up.” She emphasized the last phrase with air quotes. “Go check.”

“Mom and Dad won’t like it. I’m supposed to stay out here with you. Make sure you don’t make a run for it. You are a criminal after all.”

“Oh, really. Just me?” Jamie asked, a warning in her voice.

That day at the Lloyd Center Mall, she and Roderick had stolen over a thousand dollars’ worth of games. It was enough to get into real trouble. When the mall cop handed her over to the police, Jamie didn’t give up her brother to them, or to her parents. She took the blame for everything. Roderick was eighteen, after all. Eighteen-year-olds went to prison.

“Please, Roderick. I’m freaking out.”

Roderick held her gaze as though hoping she’d relent. Jamie didn’t. He grimaced as he looked at the judge’s closed door, then stood.

The door opened. Jamie’s parents and their lawyer walked briskly into the hall. Her father wore his best suit and tie. Her mother wore her lucky blue dress with the yellow stripes. She’d worn it to every family wedding over the last ten years and was convinced it was what kept the extended family’s divorce rate so low.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Jamie’s mother to Roderick in Korean, her voice sharp. Roderick sat back down and resumed his previous hunched over position.

Jamie turned her attention to her parents and their lawyer, a stout woman with hair dyed henna red. Gray had started to appear at the roots. After the rush of their exit, her parents stood awkwardly, as though confused where to go now that they’d left the confines of the judge’s chambers.

“Why don’t we take a seat?” The lawyer’s voice was unnaturally bright. She dragged two extra chairs toward Jamie and Roderick, the harsh scraping sound echoed through the courthouse hallway.

Her parents sat—her mother visibly irritated, her father scowling.

The lawyer turned toward Jamie. “I think we’ve worked toward a solution with Judge Reinhardt that will be acceptable to both you and your parents.” She smiled brightly.

Jamie felt like she might throw up. “Am I going to jail?”
she whispered.

“No, dear. No.” She patted Jamie’s hand. “You aren’t going to jail or juvenile detention. Nothing like that, as long as your parents accept Judge Reinhardt’s proposal.” She paused and smiled again.

Jamie wanted to scream; the anticipation was almost too much. She didn’t think it was her place to speak directly to the lawyer, but her parents stayed silent. She couldn’t help herself. “What did the judge say?” Her leg had started to shake again.

“There’s a boarding school called the Lost Lake Academy. Considering your excellent academic record, and the letters of support from your teachers and pastor, the judge felt this was an acceptable option.”

“So, I shoplifted, and now I get to go to a boarding school?”

“Well, it’s not that simple, but in a way, yes.”

“In the mountains?” asked Jamie.

“Yes, it’s about three hours away on Mount Hood,” said
the lawyer.

Jamie had lived on the Eastside of Portland her whole life and had only been to Mount Hood once. The gaping voids between the deep, snow-blanketed valleys and the dizzying mountain peaks had made her nauseous. She’d spent most of the trip with her head between her knees, breathing into a paper bag.

The lawyer continued. “You have to understand that you’ll need to be on your best behavior. If you break any rules at the school, you’ll go right back into the system.”

“How long do I need to stay there?”

“The judge is suggesting one year. The alternative is six months in juvenile detention.”

A whole year. She couldn’t quite grasp it. A year away from home, her parents, her room. What about Mr. Whiskers, her cat? Who would take care of him? She felt a pang of homesickness. Maybe she should take the six months in juvie. She’d be okay. She was tough. Tough enough to take the fall for her stupid brother, anyway.

“Jamie, can you help explain the judge’s proposal to your parents? I want to be sure they understand all the details.” The lawyer handed Jamie a pamphlet. “Here’s some information.”

Jamie looked it over. A photo of adults with caring expressions led a group of multi-cultural teens on a hike in the mountains, and another showed a tidy classroom of students, arms raised, eager to learn.

Jamie turned to her mother and said in Korean, “Mom, the lawyer has some questions.”

“Why are you speaking in Korean?” her mother asked in the same language, annoyed.

Jamie nodded toward the lawyer. “She wants me to translate. She thought it might be better.”

“My English is fine. Better than hers. I understood everything,” Jamie’s mother said.

Jamie ignored her mother’s comment and handed her the pamphlet. “She says I can either spend six months in juvenile detention, or a year at this boarding school.”

Roderick leaned over to glance at the photos. “Looks nice.”

“Looks expensive,” said Jamie’s mother.

Jamie turned to the lawyer. “She says it looks expensive.”

The lawyer nodded. “It can be, but the state has an agreement with the school. The cost will be subsidized and will be quite affordable for your family. I reached out to an administrator there yesterday, and as luck would have it, they have a spot open for you.”

Her mother rattled off more questions, which Jamie translated back and forth.

“What kind of school?”

“It’s specifically for boys and girls who need extra help
and supervision.”

“Hmmm … bad children. How are the teachers?”

“The Lost Lake Academy has a quality staff of counselors
and educators.”

Her mother sat silent for a moment, considering the lawyer’s words. “I hate this woman. She’s stupid. How did we end up with such a stupid lawyer? You should be allowed to stay at home with us.”

Jamie was grateful for the language barrier.

“Mom, the lawyer’s just trying to help,” said Roderick.

Her mother shook her head. “My daughter, a criminal. How will I ever face our family or friends? I’m so ashamed.”

Jamie looked at her father, “Dad, what do you think?”

Her father sat silent, brooding. Finally, he spoke in English. “No prisons.”

“Juvenile detention isn’t technically a prison,” said the lawyer.

“It is a prison. This country has too many.” He turned to Jamie. “You’re going to the school.”

“But it’s a whole year,” said Jamie. “Juvenile detention is only six months.”

“The school. That’s final,” said her father. Her mother nodded in agreement.

The lawyer smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll get in touch tomorrow with the details.”

Jamie and Roderick followed their parents as they made their way out of the courthouse past bored police officers, rumpled lawyers, and disoriented jurors.

“Jamie, I’m really sorry,” said Roderick. He kept his voice low so only she could hear.

“It’s fine,” she said glumly.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “I should have stepped up.”

“I’m the idiot who tried to outrun a mall cop. Anyway, you’re too soft. You’d never survive prison.”

“I owe you, little sister. I owe you big time,” Roderick said. “I’m glad you’re going to the school.”

“I’m going to have to give up forensics, band, and yearbook.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot your life already sucks,” he joked.

“Shut up.” She punched his arm. Already the world was starting to look a little more normal. “Will you visit me?”

“Sure.”

“And you promise to stay out of trouble?” she asked. “I won’t be around to save you next time.”

“Promise,” he said, with a smile.

***

A door opened further down the hall and out swept Ellen, begging forgiveness for her early departure to those remaining behind. She said something vague about the number of items still on her agenda. For a moment she looked confused, staring at an empty chair outside the office she’d just left. She looked around, growing irritated until she finally spotted Jamie. “Jamie, why are you sitting over there? Let’s go.”

Ellen looked as imperious as ever. Gone was the casual rescue wear that followed the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. It had been replaced with an elegant gray suit and a red blouse open at the neck, revealing a string of lustrous pearls. She had kept her white hair short, but it was swept elegantly away from her face. In the months Jamie had worked for her, she’d never once seen it move, even under the stormiest conditions.

Jamie stood. The rush of anxiety she always felt when in the presence of the mayor succeeded in pushing back any lingering memories of the past. She never knew what Ellen would ask for, it might be a breath mint or a demand to move a mountain. Out of habit, Jamie pulled a small bottle of antibacterial gel from her well-stocked bag and handed it to Ellen, who took it automatically.

“You’re supposed to keep me on schedule, not the other way around.” Ellen rubbed a small dab of gel on her hands and then handed the bottle back to Jamie. “What’s on today’s agenda?” she asked, walking rapidly down the hall. Jamie pulled her cellphone out of her coat pocket and skimmed the calendar, feeling Ellen’s impatience.

“You’re meeting with concerned parents who want their kids back in school.”

“We’re not ready. Most of the buildings are still being repaired. Postpone the meeting until next month. I’ll issue a statement that online classes will continue for now and that we’re working around the clock to reopen schools. I, of all people, know what a nightmare it is having a child underfoot.” Ellen paused and looked at Jamie. “Please don’t tell Lisa I said that.”

Jamie nodded.

“Thank you,” said Ellen. “What’s next?”

“Representatives from the Gluten-Free Portland Project are protesting outside the fourth street entrance to City Hall.”

“What do they want now?

“No gluten.”

“Obviously. Why are they bothering me today?” As Ellen walked, she smiled and nodded at passersby who recognized her, looking friendly enough not to offend yet too busy to be bothered.

“In addition to your green policies in rebuilding the city, they want gluten free options in all restaurants who receive city funds to reopen,” said Jamie.

“Order twenty pies from Apizza Scholls. We’ll see how long they last.”

“Really?” Jamie asked, already planning to order a spare for herself from Portland’s best pizzeria.

“No, though it is tempting.”

Jamie found Ellen’s sense of humor inscrutable and had learned the hard way when to follow her instructions to the letter, and when not.

Ellen continued with her rant. “With everything else I have to deal with, gluten is very last on my list. Tell them gluten is outside my jurisdiction and they need to reach out to the county.”

“Consider it done.”

“Have you heard from the hospital today?” asked Ellen eagerly. “Has Sheila regained consciousness?”

“Nothing yet,” said Jamie, checking for messages. The hospital was under strict instructions to alert Ellen if Sheila woke from her coma.

“Please call, just in case.”

“Mayor Salder, it’s been months. Sheila might never wake up, and even if she does, who knows what she’ll remember.” Jamie was still disturbed by the last time they’d gone to the hospital to see the comatose drug dealer. Ellen was convinced Sheila was faking her coma to avoid prison. She insisted the hospital keep Sheila handcuffed to her bed. The police and hospital staff had vetoed that idea, saying having an officer stationed outside Sheila’s room around the clock was sufficient to prevent her escape, and more importantly, to prevent anyone else from attempting to silence her permanently. Ellen’s success in breaking up Sheila’s drug trafficking operation would be an empty victory if she couldn’t link Sheila to anyone other than a few dozen low-level dealers. She needed the woman alive and awake.

“Well, that’s the question isn’t it. What Sheila will remember?” snapped Ellen. She stopped mid-stride and put her hand gently on Jamie’s arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I know you understand what’s at stake. Anything else on today’s docket?”

“The reporter from the Times,” said Jamie. “She emailed questions this morning.”

“Yes, excellent. May I see them?”

Jamie pulled the printed list out of her bag and handed it to Ellen, who skimmed it quickly.

“All softballs about the six-month anniversary of the earthquake,” Ellen said. They’d reached a bank of elevators and Ellen pressed the call button. “I wonder what’s really up her sleeve. You’ll sit in. I’d like you to record it and take notes.”

“Yes, Mayor Salder. And finally, you have dinner at Jake’s Famous Crawfish with Lisa tonight.”

Ellen’s smile disappeared. “You’ll join us.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“That wasn’t a question. Just don’t order the actual crawfish. They make Lisa cry.” Ellen jabbed the call button again. “What is taking so long? These damn elevators are the slowest in the city.”

Jamie paused for a moment. “Don’t you think you need some more alone time with her? I feel like I’m always getting in the middle. I thought you were getting along better.”

The elevator doors slid open and Jamie repressed a shudder as she stepped in. The local news and social media had been full of horror stories of people stuck in elevators for days after the quake. Jamie glanced at Ellen who looked as cool and comfortable as ever. Nothing ruffled the mayor, thought Jamie, except Lisa.

“Yes, it’s been fine. More of a truce than a reconciliation,” said Ellen with a shrug. “She’s been sharing a lot about her experiences at the Academy. But I thought tonight we could take a break and just have a nice dinner. And your presence always helps keep us civil. You know how Lisa is.” She pressed the button for the ground floor.

“And I know how you are,” said Jamie, not afraid to be honest with Ellen on this subject.

“Yes,” Ellen said, conceding the point. “My daughter doesn’t always bring out the best in me. I would still prefer you join. And Lisa will want you there.”

Jamie wasn’t so sure. Her best friend and former roommate hadn’t been too keen on Jamie taking this job with her mother. Every time she brought up her all-consuming work, Lisa immediately changed the subject. It had started to hurt Jamie’s feelings.

“Okay, I’ll go. I’ve always wanted to try their seafood appetizer tower. It’s like three feet tall,” said Jamie hopefully.

“You can order whatever you’d like. On me of course,” said Ellen in a rare light tone.

The doors opened. Relieved to be out of the cramped space, Jamie took a deep breath of courthouse lobby air. Her phone chimed. She glanced at it, hoping for a message from the hospital with good news about Sheila. Instead, the text read, “In town. Can I crash at your place tonight?” The message was from her brother Roderick.