Surprise

Chapter One

I rushed up the stairs to the county courthouse two at a time, glancing at my watch. Damn. Six minutes to nine. If I’m late again Judge Riches will eat me alive.

I looked at the lines for security, picked the one with only one person in it, emptied my pockets into the bin with my briefcase and shoved it into the machine. Paul Stevens, the guard on duty just shook his head.

“Cuttin’ it close again.”

“Welcome to my life.”

He laughed and waved me through.

I saw an elevator door closing as I dashed around the corner, “Going up!” I shouted. It looked like I missed it, but at the last second it started to re-open. It looked pretty crowded, “Room for one more?” And I backed myself in.

“Fifth floor, please.” Maybe I’d make it in time after all.

The courthouse building was close to 150 years old, and was a mixture of old and new. The front of the place looked like most of the courthouses of the American west built in the 1870s; it had five stories, was built of red brick and had white columns. The elevators were new by comparison, they were jammed onto the back side in the 1970s, and had seen better days since then. But when the doors opened on the second floor, the wooden floors were worn smooth, and the offices still had glass panels on the upper half of all the doors. Most of the people who worked here, had offices located on this floor, and the elevator emptied except for me, one prisoner in his orange jumpsuit, and his guards.

As I stepped back into the elevator I glanced at the man in shackles and cuffs and a faint bell of recognition rang in the back of my mind. I’m usually good with faces, although names sometimes escape me. Not this one.

“Dave Blanchard?”

“Yeah. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy who gave you the black eye you wore the day you gave the Valedictory address at your high school graduation.”

His eyes popped open, and his voice went up an octave, “Jim Nelson? What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I spend most all of my days here. I work here.” I gave him a once over, “I can see what you’re doing here. What happened?”

Before he could answer the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor and I dashed for Courtroom B and my date with Judge Riches. As I ran down the hall I yelled over my shoulder, “Gotta go. Find you later.” I dashed through the doors at one minute ‘til. Dave and his escort came through right after me.

Chapter Two

As the three of them headed over to the jury box chairs, all I could do is shake my head. Dave Blanchard. In a class of 113 Seniors he finished first and I finished exactly in the middle… number 57. He was a walking cliché. President of the Senior class, football star, straight A student, Prom King, early acceptance to Columbia, and all-around asshole. He bullied me from the sixth grade right on through high school.

He got his growth spurt early, mine was late. I worked on the school paper, and was the number one ranked debater. I talked my way out of a lot of beatings, but none with Dave. Of course, I may have contributed to his desire to beat the hell out of me. Although he played on our football team, neither he nor the team were very good. In fact, they were awful. 0 -10 our Senior year, and I was not kind every week when the paper came out.

I watched him sitting in his chair, his guards standing right behind him. Must be serious, he has his own escort.

“All rise.”

I checked my watch. Three minutes after nine. Judge Riches saw me checking the time. Looking a little abashed, he grinned in my direction, nodded, and said, “Be seated.”

The court day had begun, and I let the drone of the proceedings wash over me while I remembered the day the bullying ended.

Chapter Three

It had been a usual day for mid-May in Colorado. Summer was busting a gut trying to force Spring to vacate the area. We’d had a late snow in April, but today the sky was as bright as it gets, and while the tops of the mountains we could see still had their snow caps, it had long since melted off here on the eastern plains. The temps were trying to be hot, but only made it to 82 that day.

I arrived very early to school that day, the halls practically deserted. When I got to my English class, Dave was there, and he was in Mrs. Harts face.

“If I don’t get an A in this class, I won’t be Valedictorian.”

“Mr. Blanchard, you’re barely earning a B in this class, and if I don’t get your paper today, you won’t get that.”

He sucked in a great breath, popped out his cheeks, and blew it out. He moved in on her, forcing her down into her chair. Leaning over her he said, almost without moving his lips, “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I HAVE to get an A in this class.”

“Enough Dave,” I said.

He jerked up looking around. “Get the hell out of here Nelson.”

I put my book down on my desk, “Can’t. This is my first class.”

He kicked Mrs. Hart’s chair in frustration. “You, remember what I said.” Then he turned on me. “You. You, I’ll see after school today.” And he stormed out.

“You okay?” I asked her.

She put one hand to her mouth and the other over her heart. “Yes. I’m fine. But he’s just made my decision for me. This is my last year teaching. I can’t take any more Dave Blanchard’s.” That pissed me off. Mrs. Hart had been my favorite teacher the past three years.

For the first time since the sixth grade Dave did not have to come looking for me. I was looking for him. In his defense I don’t think Dave ever noticed I’d grown six inches and gained forty pounds during our Senior year. He just assumed it was the same ole Jim Nelson and I’d take my beating and he’d laugh while doing it.

But I was done being anyone’s whipping boy. I might get an ass whooping, but David Blanchard was going to know he’d been in a fight.

There is an old, and rather tall red-oak tree just outside the school grounds, and most meetings like this happened there. I was waiting for him and he never touched me. He just walked up, grinning like a Cheshire cat, guard down, talking his trash, thinking it was going to be the same outcome as it had for the past seven years.

He never saw the blow coming. It landed low on the left cheek and I watched in amazement as his eyes rolled back in his head and he stumbled back a step, then tumbled backward. The first thing to hit the ground was the back of his head. He was out.

He got his A from Mrs. Hart, and I got banned from walking at graduation.

It was worth it.

Chapter Four

I snapped out of my reverie and back to court.

“What’s next?” asked Judge Riches.

“State versus David Kenneth Blanchard. Charges are, murder in the first degree, murder in the second degree, kidnapping, and carjacking.”

“You’ve been busy Mr. Blanchard. Do you have an attorney?”

“No sir.”

“Are you planning on hiring one, or would you like me to appoint a public defender?”

“I don’t have the means to hire my own, sir.”

“Mr. Nelson. Step forward. I think you’re next up from the Public Defender’s office.”

Dave whipped around to look at me, his mouth open in a surprised ‘O’. “You’re a lawyer?”

“Yeah.” Then to the judge, “Your honor. I’m not sure that’s necessary. Mr. Blanchard here attended Columbia University, and was going to go to Harvard Law School after that. Perhaps he’d like to represent himself.”

“Mr. Blanchard? Will you be representing yourself?”

The courtroom was as quiet as I’ve ever heard it, and took a while for him to answer.

“No sir,” he said, very softly. “I wasn’t able to finish school.” He looked at me defiantly, daring me to say something.

“Your honor, I’ll be glad to represent Mr. Blanchard for the purposes of arraignment, but I’ll have to recuse myself after that. I’ll have someone appointed to represent him when I get back to the office.”

“Is there a problem with your defending him?”

“Yes, sir. We have a prior connection and I don’t think I’d be able to defend him the way the cannon of ethics require.”

“And why is that?”

“Let’s just say I spent all of my high school years wishing I could see him behind bars.”

“I see. How do you plead, Mr. Blanchard?”

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Ain’t karma a bitch? Say Not Guilty.”

“Not Guilty.”

Judge Riches looked over the top of his glasses, and said, "Mr. Nelson. You'll be the attorney of record until I hear from your office."

I looked over at Dave. He gave me a quizzical look, and I shrugged back. He nodded.

"Yes, Your Honor."