Jury of One Read Free

argued that Rondell shouldn’t be expelled but transferred to one of the city’s “alternative” schools, set up years ago to take in troubled students.
    A chance. In the end, that’s all she wanted for Rondell. Achance. If they kicked him out of school, he would retreat to the drug- and gang-infested streets. School was the only option for this boy. The school had expelled him without much of a hearing—in these post–Columbine days, schools were increasingly embracing the “zero tolerance” policy—and by the time Shelly caught the case, the act was completed. She had run to court and now sought a preliminary injunction against the school board, forcing them to keep Rondell in school until the issue was sorted out. Some would say she was buying time. What she was really doing was seeking leverage. If the judge leaned her way, the school might decide to give Rondell the alternative school option, which Shelly would take in a heartbeat. Her client was no saint. He probably didn’t belong in a traditional school. He just needed a chance.
    Shelly had cross-examined school officials, students, and school security personnel. She could do it in her sleep by now. She had lost count, but in her time as an attorney representing students, she had tried over forty cases, including civil hearings such as these and about a dozen cases in juvenile court, which essentially meant criminal court for children. She felt good about her defense of Rondell, but the problem was numbers. One or two witnesses might not be credible, but over a dozen? Sheer numbers would seem to tip the balance against her client.
    “All rise.”
    The judge, the Honorable Alfred Halston, assumed the bench. His Honor was battle-worn, a weary man with snow-white hair, a lined face and gravelly voice. Shelly considered Halston a tough draw. He was presumably next in line for presiding judge, a politician’s politician who took the bench fifteen years ago after leaving the state’s House of Representatives. As an elected judge, he was no longer subject to popular election—a judge only had to run for “retention” once a decade, and no judge had been ousted in recent memory—but that didn’t erase political considerations. Everything was political in the city, and a judge hoping for elevation soon was always thinking two steps ahead of every ruling. Returning a violent boy to school was all he needed. If this kid turned around and shot someone, everyone would look back at the judge for blame.
    Shelly had become adept at knowing the verdict before it was rendered. Look at the jurors’ eyes, look at the judge’s demeanor.Judge Halston looked first at Shelly’s client, and she knew the answer.
    “What we have here, young man,” he began, “are allegations of a very serious nature. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
    That confirmed it. The judge wouldn’t begin in such a testy manner if he were going to rule against Rondell. If he were going to uphold the expulsion, he wouldn’t need to scold Rondell—the ruling would be punishment enough. Shelly nodded along, because she was never arguing that her client was a prince. Plus, when you’re ahead, you let the judge feel like Solomon himself could not have divined a more exquisite outcome. The judge continued on for several minutes, castigating Rondell Moten for taking the gift of education for granted, for vanquishing this opportunity to learn, improve, find a constructive place in this world.
    The judge sighed. “Nevertheless,” he began.
    Not a complete victory, though. The judge was only finding that Shelly had established a likelihood that she would win at a final trial—the judge was simply issuing an injunction keeping the boy in school until the matter was finally resolved.
    Shelly knew what would come next. The attorney for the board of education would offer Rondell alternative school to drop the matter, to prevent the further draining of resources directed against a single student in