Free The Sacrifice by Robert Whitlow

brief answer seem even more abrupt.
    â€œWhat are your intentions?”
    â€œTo prosecute the defendant as an adult for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to inflict serious injury and criminal destruction of property.”
    Scott’s face flushed. “I understand that, but I’d hoped we could cooperate.”
    â€œNot unless your client pleads guilty to a felony charge and agrees to a significant prison sentence.”
    â€œTo a felony with prison time? You’re kidding.”
    â€œNo, Mr. Ellis. I’m very serious. If you don’t have any more questions, I have things to do before I leave the office.”
    Scott couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound petty. “No. I’ll be filing my notice of representation in the morning.”
    â€œArraignment will be on Thursday morning at nine o’clock in the old courtroom.”

    Supper was being served when Deputy Hicks pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped aside to let Scott enter. Lester sat alone at a round table. His swollen right eye had turned slightly purple, and the cut on his right temple was healing with the rapidity reserved for young people. Scott sat down beside him.
    â€œAssigned seating?” he asked.
    â€œYeah. I can’t sit with anyone else. In class I’m in the front row under the teacher’s nose.”
    â€œNo more trouble?”
    â€œI’m keeping to myself like you told me to do.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œDid you come to get me out? I want to go home.”
    The young man’s mood was subdued. He looked down at his plate of barely eaten food.
    â€œNo, I didn’t come to get you out. The whole status of your case has changed.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Scott summarized the district attorney’s decision to prosecute Lester as an adult. When he finished, Lester put his head in his hands. Scott waited. He couldn’t tell if Lester was crying or not, but several other boys looked in their direction, poked one another, and laughed. Scott thought about reaching over to put a hand on Lester’s shoulder but hesitated. There had not yet been an invitation to that type of personal touch.
    Lester raised his head and blew his nose on a paper napkin. “I’d rather be dead than locked up. I’d never make it in a prison where I had to share space with blacks.”
    Scott recoiled from the sympathy that had welled up inside him seconds before. Instead of reaching over to place a comforting hand on Lester’s shoulder, he suddenly had a strong urge to knock him out of his chair.
    â€œLester, look at me,” he commanded.
    The young man glanced up through watery eyes.
    Scott spoke slowly. “Before I became a lawyer, I served in the U.S. Army. My best friend was a black man from Syracuse, New York, named Steve Robinson. We were as close as brothers. We met in basic training and served together in the same unit for almost three years.”
    Lester’s bleary-eyed look became a dull glare. Scott wasn’t going to be stopped by a hostile look from a sixteen-year-old.
    â€œI visited with my friend’s family when I was on leave. I slept in their house, ate their food, held his baby girl, and kissed his wife on the cheek when I left. Later, when we were in a very dangerous situation overseas, Steve saved my life. Get one thing straight: I don’t agree with you about blacks, browns, yellows, or any combination of colors you can imagine.”
    Lester grunted. “I can’t talk like you, but I’ve got my reasons.”
    â€œMaybe you do, but unless they have something to do with your case, I’m not interested in hearing about them. Is that clear?”
    Lester didn’t reply.
    Scott had intended on discussing pretrial strategy, but insuring due process for Lester Garrison would have to wait for another day.
    â€œI’ll be back later,” he said and left Lester with his hate and a cold