"If You Judge, Investigate" A standalone story in the 'Fair Distance' universe
Sentinel Thursday Challenge 211 and 215 First Things First/OMC
A stand-alone story for the ‘Fair Distance’ universe.
Author: Laurie
Title: “If You Judge, Investigate”
Type: Gen
Rating: Gen
Warning: suspicion of child abuse
Beta'ed by t_verano. Thank you, once again, for all your help.
* The title is a quote from Seneca, a mid-first century AD Roman philosopher.*
While this story can be read on its own, it is part of the ‘Fair Distance’ universe.
From A Fair Distance:
I’d been in court before, of course. I often had sat in when Jim had to testify, and I’d been a witness when Kincaid had his trial for taking over Cascade Police Headquarters. But the first time I’d been in court, I’d been a scared fourteen-year-old kid who had stolen a microscope. The judge had probably been bemused by the fact I’d swiped science equipment to finish a project, instead of cassettes from a record store. Well… that was a long time ago; I didn’t really like to think much about that period of my life anymore, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my jail-scrubs.
Slouching down in my seat, because I wouldn’t have minded being able to lie down for a while, I tried to think about something else, anything else, other than my early teen years…
”If You Judge, Investigate”
Juvenile Court, 1983
“Blair Sandburg.” The judge read the kid’s name into the crowded courtroom and watched expressionlessly as an eleven or twelve-year-old boy walked up to the podium. He was a scrawny child with a wild mop of auburn-brown curls and big eyes in his small face. The judge looked back into the seats to see if a parent was struggling to get past a row of knees but nobody was trying to get up to the front of the courtroom.
“Son, where’s your mom and dad?” The judge was not pleased. There were a lot of cases to get through and an absentee parent just made the process slower.
“I don’t have a dad and mom is working out of town. But I did it and I’m going to plead guilty,” the boy answered in a clear, polite - and scared -- voice. What was this child’s name again? The judge glanced down briefly at the petition summoning the boy and his parents to juvenile court. Blair… wasn’t that a girl’s name? The judge sighed and adjusted his glasses, and gave young Blair an assessing look. He looked clean, if rather casually dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. The boy was avoiding eye contact, and his hands were sliding up and down the sides of his jeans in nervous gestures.
No parent in court… it was going to be one of those cases.
“First things first, Blair. Who’s in charge of you while your mother is out of town?”
“I’m staying with her boss. He’s kind of her boyfriend and he’s got a paper saying he can take me to the doctor and do school stuff. I guess he’s my guardian for now. I rode my bike here; he didn’t come.” Blair answered slowly and rather cautiously, with only a brief glance at the judge’s eyes.
“Oh, and why not, young man? Was he aware of the court date?” He pinned Blair with his gaze, and this time the boy kept eye contact.
“He knows about it, but he said I got myself in trouble and I can get myself out of it on my own.” The boy shrugged after he made his statement and bit his lip. Blair sounded like he was telling the truth, but he acted like he didn’t expect to be believed.
The judge beckoned the court liaison social worker over and arranged for the boy’s ad-hoc guardian to be called to court. Blair left with her and the judge called the next name on the docket.
The courtroom was nearly empty before the Sandburg boy returned in the company of a tall, dark haired man in his forties. The boy’s guardian was scowling when he entered the courtroom, but when the Sandburg case was recalled, the man dropped his frown and pasted on a smarmy smile. The big man walked up behind the child and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy slid out of his reach and a quick look of loathing crossed his face. He held himself stiffly, and his face was tight with tension. The judge compared the boy’s current demeanor with how he’d acted in court this morning, and the child was noticeably more stressed.
“Blair Sandburg. And you are how old, young man? And how are you doing in school?” The judge peered over his glasses down at the boy and man before him. “I’ll warn you that your school will be letting the court know of your current grades and attendance.”
“Um, I’m fourteen, Your Honor. And I had to quit school and be home schooled.”
“And sir, you are…?”
“Your Honor, I’m Jake Boles, and Blair’s my charge while his mother is out of the country. I have here a notarized statement giving me authority. Blair wasn’t being challenged in public school; he’s quite bright, although you wouldn’t know it judging by the stunt he pulled.”
“Why were you not in court with Blair this morning?”
Boles looked sincerely at the judge. “I didn’t receive the summons, Your Honor. Possibly it was lost in the mail, or perhaps, removed from the mail box so I wouldn’t find it?” And with a slight eye roll, he indicted Blair.
The judge observed Blair’s look of indignation at the subtle accusation, before the boy’s expression went blank and he slumped dejectedly.
“How does Blair act at home? Do you have any trouble with him? Does he come home on time from being out with friends?” The judge covertly watched Blair’s face as his guardian answered the questions.
“Blair is very good, no trouble at all out of him. And he mostly stays at home; I don’t allow him to spend time with friends. You know what I mean, Judge. If he’s at home then I can watch him.” The guardian shook his head and sighed theatrically. “He had told me he was going to the library, but he went to Science World instead and stole that microscope. And I should let you know, Your Honor, that he couldn’t sit down for days after the officer brought him home. I saw to that. And he won’t be going back out to the library or anywhere else.” Jake Boles smiled toothily at the judge and tried to draw Blair over next to him. Blair again twisted till he was free of the embrace.
“Son, you are entitled to a lawyer; if you can’t afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you want a lawyer? You are charged with felony theft and I advise you to have legal representation. And you, Mr. Boles, will you provide a lawyer for this boy or allow the court to appoint a lawyer?”
Blair shook his head, while Boles replied, “In my opinion, since Blair was caught red-handed stealing the microscope, there’s no point in bothering with a lawyer.”
The judge contemplated the pair before him. He didn’t like the body language he was reading between Boles and Blair. The boy was keeping himself at arm’s length from his guardian. Usually when a child was facing him they stayed close to the parent; Blair didn’t seem to want this man’s support.
“Very well. Since legal representation is declined, we’ll go ahead and get this settled. Blair, did you steal the microscope?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want to know why, young man.”
“I was doing a science project and I couldn’t use the school one anymore and I just really wanted it so I could finish up my data. So I took it. I’m sorry. I was going to take it back when I was done with it. I know it was wrong and I deserve to go to jail.” Blair didn’t mumble, but his eyes kept drifting to the floor.
“This is your first time in juvenile court in this county. How long have you lived here, Blair? And have you been in trouble anywhere else? By that I mean in trouble and had to come to court. And look at me, son, not the floor.”
“Naomi and me, we moved here ten months ago. I’ve never been in court before today.” Blair had looked at the judge while he spoke, but as soon as he was finished, he’d lowered his eyes again to stare at the floor in front of him.
“Sir, Blair said his mother works for you. What is the nature of your business and what position does his mother hold in it?”
Blair’s guardian spoke smoothly, confidently, two adults conversing about adult business. “Naomi Sandburg -- that’s his mother -- is a buyer for my company, Fair Exchange. We help native craftsmen by buying their art at a fair price and remarketing it. Naomi is a scout, you might say, she tracks down these local artists in their homelands and if the product is one that would have a good market in the western world, she arranges for Fair Exchange to buy it and promote it. She really loves her work and the chance to travel; she’s very good at what she does.”
Blair had listened intently to what Boles had said about his mother, nodding a little when the man said his mother loved the job that kept her away from him.
“Thank you, Mr. Boles. And why is Blair with you and not a relative?”
“Blair doesn’t have any other relatives. The boy’s a bastard; he doesn’t know who his father is and Naomi thought I could be a good influence on him. She’s gone sometimes for three months at a time and I convinced her that a child Blair’s age needs more stability. I’m happy to provide that stability, and he will learn how to obey me, Judge. I can promise you that.’’
The judge watched Blair’s reaction to being called a bastard in that callous way. The boy’s eyes had looked shocked for just a moment and then a resigned expression settled on his face. His shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms around himself. It wasn’t a defiant gesture; it seemed more self-comforting to the judge. Once more, Mr. Boles stepped over into Blair’s personal space, but this time the boy didn’t step away. His guardian put an arm around his shoulders and drew Blair in snug against him.
Boles had a satisfied smirk on his face, but Blair still held himself tightly even plastered up against his guardian.
The judge contemplated the pair in front of him just like he’d evaluated the thousands upon thousands of parents and children who had stood in that very spot over the years.
“Blair. What you did was wrong and you’ve acknowledged that to this court. You will be on probation for a year and have 360 hours of community service to be fulfilled at a library or a museum. Thirty hours a month must be completed each month. Your probation officer will set you up with the details. The probation officer will also be doing unscheduled home visits to your residence, Mr. Boles. I want this boy in counseling also for a minimum of a year’s time or until the counselor reports back to this court that counseling is no longer needed. The probation officer will let you know what counseling agency will provide the service and the counselor will set the frequency of Blair’s appointments.” The judge started shuffling the papers from this child’s court file, preparing them to be placed back in the folder.
“The probation officer will also be evaluating the effectiveness of Blair’s home schooling program. If he deems it unsatisfactory, Blair will be re-enrolled in public school, or -- should you wish to pay for it -- a local private school. I want Blair and his mother back in my courtroom in three months to monitor the progress he’s made. That means, Mr. Boles, that I expect you to arrange his mother’s work schedule so that she can be present. By the next court date I will have the probation officer’s report over your compliance with making sure he goes to counseling and fulfilling his monthly community service. Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t want a stranger coming to my home.” Jake Boles looked unhappily at the judge. “ I’ll take Blair to the probation office; it’ll be more convenient for all of us. And he could do his community service at my company. That way I can keep a close eye on the boy.”
The judge looked sternly at Blair’s guardian. “Mr. Boles, you will comply with the terms I’ve just explained, in the manner that I’ve just explained. If you cannot or will not do so, this court will place Blair in foster care until his mother can take him back into her own custody.”
Boles removed his arm from Blair’s shoulder and said resignedly, “that won’t be necessary, Judge. Blair wants to stay with me; don’t you, Blair?”
Blair looked up at the judge for the first time since the terms of his penance had been explained. He shrugged in answer to his guardian’s question, but the look he gave the judge was one of relief.
“Mr. Wells.” The juvenile probation officer rose and walked over to Blair and Boles.
“Mr. Wells will be your probation officer. He will meet with you now, and I expect you back in court on January 12th. Mr. Wells, see me after court regarding this case.” And the probation officer escorted Blair and his guardian out of the courtroom.
The judge was afraid that this was the best he could do for Blair. He hadn’t liked how Boles had isolated the boy. The emotions expressed in Blair’s body language had told the judge what the boy couldn’t say in words: something was wrong in that home. He’d alert the probation officer as to his suspicions. Hopefully, between the probation officer’s home visits and the counselor’s encouragement, Blair would have the support he would need to disclose any abuse.
The judge suspected that Blair’s actions in stealing that microscope were an unconscious cry for help. Well, help was now available, if the boy chose to trust any of the caring people who he would be having contact with for the next year.
The judge hoped the boy would make the right choice, but sometimes these kids wouldn’t admit that they were being hurt or neglected. And if Blair wouldn’t say anything, then they couldn’t help him.
He sighed and looked over the docket. Time to call the next child up for dispensation.
“John Everett…”
A Fair Distance:Ball and Chain. Chapter One.
A stand-alone story for the ‘Fair Distance’ universe.
Author: Laurie
Title: “If You Judge, Investigate”
Type: Gen
Rating: Gen
Warning: suspicion of child abuse
Beta'ed by t_verano. Thank you, once again, for all your help.
* The title is a quote from Seneca, a mid-first century AD Roman philosopher.*
While this story can be read on its own, it is part of the ‘Fair Distance’ universe.
From A Fair Distance:
I’d been in court before, of course. I often had sat in when Jim had to testify, and I’d been a witness when Kincaid had his trial for taking over Cascade Police Headquarters. But the first time I’d been in court, I’d been a scared fourteen-year-old kid who had stolen a microscope. The judge had probably been bemused by the fact I’d swiped science equipment to finish a project, instead of cassettes from a record store. Well… that was a long time ago; I didn’t really like to think much about that period of my life anymore, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my jail-scrubs.
Slouching down in my seat, because I wouldn’t have minded being able to lie down for a while, I tried to think about something else, anything else, other than my early teen years…
”If You Judge, Investigate”
Juvenile Court, 1983
“Blair Sandburg.” The judge read the kid’s name into the crowded courtroom and watched expressionlessly as an eleven or twelve-year-old boy walked up to the podium. He was a scrawny child with a wild mop of auburn-brown curls and big eyes in his small face. The judge looked back into the seats to see if a parent was struggling to get past a row of knees but nobody was trying to get up to the front of the courtroom.
“Son, where’s your mom and dad?” The judge was not pleased. There were a lot of cases to get through and an absentee parent just made the process slower.
“I don’t have a dad and mom is working out of town. But I did it and I’m going to plead guilty,” the boy answered in a clear, polite - and scared -- voice. What was this child’s name again? The judge glanced down briefly at the petition summoning the boy and his parents to juvenile court. Blair… wasn’t that a girl’s name? The judge sighed and adjusted his glasses, and gave young Blair an assessing look. He looked clean, if rather casually dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. The boy was avoiding eye contact, and his hands were sliding up and down the sides of his jeans in nervous gestures.
No parent in court… it was going to be one of those cases.
“First things first, Blair. Who’s in charge of you while your mother is out of town?”
“I’m staying with her boss. He’s kind of her boyfriend and he’s got a paper saying he can take me to the doctor and do school stuff. I guess he’s my guardian for now. I rode my bike here; he didn’t come.” Blair answered slowly and rather cautiously, with only a brief glance at the judge’s eyes.
“Oh, and why not, young man? Was he aware of the court date?” He pinned Blair with his gaze, and this time the boy kept eye contact.
“He knows about it, but he said I got myself in trouble and I can get myself out of it on my own.” The boy shrugged after he made his statement and bit his lip. Blair sounded like he was telling the truth, but he acted like he didn’t expect to be believed.
The judge beckoned the court liaison social worker over and arranged for the boy’s ad-hoc guardian to be called to court. Blair left with her and the judge called the next name on the docket.
The courtroom was nearly empty before the Sandburg boy returned in the company of a tall, dark haired man in his forties. The boy’s guardian was scowling when he entered the courtroom, but when the Sandburg case was recalled, the man dropped his frown and pasted on a smarmy smile. The big man walked up behind the child and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy slid out of his reach and a quick look of loathing crossed his face. He held himself stiffly, and his face was tight with tension. The judge compared the boy’s current demeanor with how he’d acted in court this morning, and the child was noticeably more stressed.
“Blair Sandburg. And you are how old, young man? And how are you doing in school?” The judge peered over his glasses down at the boy and man before him. “I’ll warn you that your school will be letting the court know of your current grades and attendance.”
“Um, I’m fourteen, Your Honor. And I had to quit school and be home schooled.”
“And sir, you are…?”
“Your Honor, I’m Jake Boles, and Blair’s my charge while his mother is out of the country. I have here a notarized statement giving me authority. Blair wasn’t being challenged in public school; he’s quite bright, although you wouldn’t know it judging by the stunt he pulled.”
“Why were you not in court with Blair this morning?”
Boles looked sincerely at the judge. “I didn’t receive the summons, Your Honor. Possibly it was lost in the mail, or perhaps, removed from the mail box so I wouldn’t find it?” And with a slight eye roll, he indicted Blair.
The judge observed Blair’s look of indignation at the subtle accusation, before the boy’s expression went blank and he slumped dejectedly.
“How does Blair act at home? Do you have any trouble with him? Does he come home on time from being out with friends?” The judge covertly watched Blair’s face as his guardian answered the questions.
“Blair is very good, no trouble at all out of him. And he mostly stays at home; I don’t allow him to spend time with friends. You know what I mean, Judge. If he’s at home then I can watch him.” The guardian shook his head and sighed theatrically. “He had told me he was going to the library, but he went to Science World instead and stole that microscope. And I should let you know, Your Honor, that he couldn’t sit down for days after the officer brought him home. I saw to that. And he won’t be going back out to the library or anywhere else.” Jake Boles smiled toothily at the judge and tried to draw Blair over next to him. Blair again twisted till he was free of the embrace.
“Son, you are entitled to a lawyer; if you can’t afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you want a lawyer? You are charged with felony theft and I advise you to have legal representation. And you, Mr. Boles, will you provide a lawyer for this boy or allow the court to appoint a lawyer?”
Blair shook his head, while Boles replied, “In my opinion, since Blair was caught red-handed stealing the microscope, there’s no point in bothering with a lawyer.”
The judge contemplated the pair before him. He didn’t like the body language he was reading between Boles and Blair. The boy was keeping himself at arm’s length from his guardian. Usually when a child was facing him they stayed close to the parent; Blair didn’t seem to want this man’s support.
“Very well. Since legal representation is declined, we’ll go ahead and get this settled. Blair, did you steal the microscope?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I want to know why, young man.”
“I was doing a science project and I couldn’t use the school one anymore and I just really wanted it so I could finish up my data. So I took it. I’m sorry. I was going to take it back when I was done with it. I know it was wrong and I deserve to go to jail.” Blair didn’t mumble, but his eyes kept drifting to the floor.
“This is your first time in juvenile court in this county. How long have you lived here, Blair? And have you been in trouble anywhere else? By that I mean in trouble and had to come to court. And look at me, son, not the floor.”
“Naomi and me, we moved here ten months ago. I’ve never been in court before today.” Blair had looked at the judge while he spoke, but as soon as he was finished, he’d lowered his eyes again to stare at the floor in front of him.
“Sir, Blair said his mother works for you. What is the nature of your business and what position does his mother hold in it?”
Blair’s guardian spoke smoothly, confidently, two adults conversing about adult business. “Naomi Sandburg -- that’s his mother -- is a buyer for my company, Fair Exchange. We help native craftsmen by buying their art at a fair price and remarketing it. Naomi is a scout, you might say, she tracks down these local artists in their homelands and if the product is one that would have a good market in the western world, she arranges for Fair Exchange to buy it and promote it. She really loves her work and the chance to travel; she’s very good at what she does.”
Blair had listened intently to what Boles had said about his mother, nodding a little when the man said his mother loved the job that kept her away from him.
“Thank you, Mr. Boles. And why is Blair with you and not a relative?”
“Blair doesn’t have any other relatives. The boy’s a bastard; he doesn’t know who his father is and Naomi thought I could be a good influence on him. She’s gone sometimes for three months at a time and I convinced her that a child Blair’s age needs more stability. I’m happy to provide that stability, and he will learn how to obey me, Judge. I can promise you that.’’
The judge watched Blair’s reaction to being called a bastard in that callous way. The boy’s eyes had looked shocked for just a moment and then a resigned expression settled on his face. His shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms around himself. It wasn’t a defiant gesture; it seemed more self-comforting to the judge. Once more, Mr. Boles stepped over into Blair’s personal space, but this time the boy didn’t step away. His guardian put an arm around his shoulders and drew Blair in snug against him.
Boles had a satisfied smirk on his face, but Blair still held himself tightly even plastered up against his guardian.
The judge contemplated the pair in front of him just like he’d evaluated the thousands upon thousands of parents and children who had stood in that very spot over the years.
“Blair. What you did was wrong and you’ve acknowledged that to this court. You will be on probation for a year and have 360 hours of community service to be fulfilled at a library or a museum. Thirty hours a month must be completed each month. Your probation officer will set you up with the details. The probation officer will also be doing unscheduled home visits to your residence, Mr. Boles. I want this boy in counseling also for a minimum of a year’s time or until the counselor reports back to this court that counseling is no longer needed. The probation officer will let you know what counseling agency will provide the service and the counselor will set the frequency of Blair’s appointments.” The judge started shuffling the papers from this child’s court file, preparing them to be placed back in the folder.
“The probation officer will also be evaluating the effectiveness of Blair’s home schooling program. If he deems it unsatisfactory, Blair will be re-enrolled in public school, or -- should you wish to pay for it -- a local private school. I want Blair and his mother back in my courtroom in three months to monitor the progress he’s made. That means, Mr. Boles, that I expect you to arrange his mother’s work schedule so that she can be present. By the next court date I will have the probation officer’s report over your compliance with making sure he goes to counseling and fulfilling his monthly community service. Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t want a stranger coming to my home.” Jake Boles looked unhappily at the judge. “ I’ll take Blair to the probation office; it’ll be more convenient for all of us. And he could do his community service at my company. That way I can keep a close eye on the boy.”
The judge looked sternly at Blair’s guardian. “Mr. Boles, you will comply with the terms I’ve just explained, in the manner that I’ve just explained. If you cannot or will not do so, this court will place Blair in foster care until his mother can take him back into her own custody.”
Boles removed his arm from Blair’s shoulder and said resignedly, “that won’t be necessary, Judge. Blair wants to stay with me; don’t you, Blair?”
Blair looked up at the judge for the first time since the terms of his penance had been explained. He shrugged in answer to his guardian’s question, but the look he gave the judge was one of relief.
“Mr. Wells.” The juvenile probation officer rose and walked over to Blair and Boles.
“Mr. Wells will be your probation officer. He will meet with you now, and I expect you back in court on January 12th. Mr. Wells, see me after court regarding this case.” And the probation officer escorted Blair and his guardian out of the courtroom.
The judge was afraid that this was the best he could do for Blair. He hadn’t liked how Boles had isolated the boy. The emotions expressed in Blair’s body language had told the judge what the boy couldn’t say in words: something was wrong in that home. He’d alert the probation officer as to his suspicions. Hopefully, between the probation officer’s home visits and the counselor’s encouragement, Blair would have the support he would need to disclose any abuse.
The judge suspected that Blair’s actions in stealing that microscope were an unconscious cry for help. Well, help was now available, if the boy chose to trust any of the caring people who he would be having contact with for the next year.
The judge hoped the boy would make the right choice, but sometimes these kids wouldn’t admit that they were being hurt or neglected. And if Blair wouldn’t say anything, then they couldn’t help him.
He sighed and looked over the docket. Time to call the next child up for dispensation.
“John Everett…”
A Fair Distance:Ball and Chain. Chapter One.