A heavy fog slowly lifted, allowing Johnny to hear a familiar voice talk about plans for the day. The voice served as a beacon, signaling him to come forward and wake up from the few days of healing slumber he'd been in. "Roy?" Johnny breathed out, the exertion leaving him weaker.
"Hey, Junior." Roy kept his voice to a whisper knowing from previous experience that his partner didn't tolerate the narcotics well. They left him sick for a few days and with a raging headache. "How are you feeling?"
Johnny surveyed the room he was in, taking in the stark white plastered walls and the shaded window over the unoccupied second bed. "It's starting to hurt a little."
Reaching up, Roy rang for the nurse, not wanting the pain to get out of hand. "Just relax, they'll be in in a few minutes with something for you. Chris and Jennifer said to give you a kiss for them, but I told them they could see you and deliver their own kisses."
Both men smiled briefly, a sharp pain brought a grimace to Johnny's face. Roy grabbed his hand, allowing John to squeeze it until the pain was bearable.
A light tap on the door was followed by it opening and Marco backed through pulling a wheelchair along. Daniel, his arm in a sling, rode in the chair, his lips turned down in a frown. "Hi, John."
"What's he doing here?" Roy asked, keeping his tone even. In spite of that, Marco didn't miss the anger in Roy's eyes.
Marco let go of the wheelchair and came over to sit in the chair on the other side of the bed. "Daniel has something he wants to say. He's going home today to live with my parents. When his court date comes up, we'll be there for him."
Johnny looked from Marco to the teenager before him, trying to figure out where he knew the boy from. The shooting was a distant memory, even though it had happened only twenty-four hours before. Johnny had never heard the words of hatred or the successive shots fired after his plummet to the bottom of the well. His landing on the dead officer had also been blocked from Johnny's memory, for which Roy was thankful.
Confused by his partner's behavior, Johnny tried to sit up and get a better look at he boy. "Wh-what's your name?"
"Daniel. Daniel Struthers. I'm…I'm here to say I'm sorry for what I've done. I-I can't apologize for my father, but I know that…that what I did was sinful." Daniel looked toward Marco. The smile on the man's face warmed Daniel. "I-I know that my-my dad set your apartment on fire. He told me that…the next morning. And then, he-he said that you killed my mother and that you sucked her breath out. I believed him and it nearly cost you your life."
"It cost a lot of people pain and suffering, Daniel. What about that officer your father killed? Huh? Did you help lure him there and kill him?" Roy had somehow managed to hold the past few days of anxiety in check, never letting it show. Now, Roy let go the words and pent up anger.
"NO!" Daniel shouted. Marco moved between the two, worried about Johnny as the injured man attempted to sit up. "I didn't know he was going to try and kill y'all! I swear." Tears, unbidden and unrestrained, flowed down his cheeks as Roy clenched and unclenched his fists. "The cop…he was already dead when I got there. Dad wanted me to…to call for help and when I got back, the police car was there…but no officer. I believed him when he told me that you guys deserved to die, that it was payment for the crime of my mother and brother's s," With the words gone, Daniel buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
Marco gently pushed Johnny back down as a nurse came in. The stern look on her face could only mean trouble. "What is going on in here?" Her voice demanded attention. She turned to Roy first, her eyes bored through him and then into Daniel. They softened at the grimace of pain on her patient's face. "I won't have any yelling in here. This is a hospital, NOT a wrestling ring. DO I make myself clear?"
Roy bowed his head, "I'm sorry." He looked over at Johnny, realizing what had just happened and his part in it. "I'll-I'll come back later, Junior."
"You," the nurse pointed to Marco. "Take your friend here back to his room. Mr. Gage needs his rest." She went over and picked up the IV line that ran from a clear bottle of fluid to Johnny's arm. She pulled a syringe from her pocket and pushed its needle into a port. She then depressed the plunger, injecting pain medication into the tubing.
Johnny felt the warm liquid enter his vein and waited for the pain that had reached a new level to go away. Once the pain had backed down, he was able to think about the boy and the words Daniel and Roy spoken before the nurse arrived. They triggered the memory of a dead man lying beneath him and the fear that if help didn't come soon, Johnny would end up the same way. That unhappy thought was the last before the pain medication pulled Johnny back into the fog.
"This court will now come to order," the bailiff announced as Judge Amos Sandridge entered from his chambers and climbed the stairs to the bench. "You may be seated," the officer continued once the Judge was seated. "Your Honor, the first case on the docket is State versus Struthers." The bailiff handed a folder up to the judge.
Judge Sandridge opened the file, quickly scanning the contents. He then looked down from the bench to the defendant. "You are Mister Daniel Struthers?"
Daniel stood with his attorney. "Y-yes, Sir."
"And you are pleading guilty to the charges of accomplice to an assault with a deadly weapon?" Sandridge watched the boy's face. His many years on the bench had taught Sandridge to read an accused stance and face to detect signs of sincerity, or deceit. It was an edge he used often to keep the guilty behind bars.
"Y-yes, Sir. I am."
"And you understand the consequences of entering a guilty plea?" Sandridge asked.
"Y-yes, Sir."
Five people stood, all of Hispanic ancestry, and walked to the bench. "Your Honor," the head of the group bowed nervously. "I am Juan Lopez. My wife and I will take full responsibility for the child. It is our hope that we teach him to understand those who are different from him, provide him with a home and love, something he has missed since his house burned down, killing his mother."
Judge Sandridge nodded. "The Department of Social Services has reviewed the application and submitted its findings to the Court. I'll ask the social worker present to step forward now."
A woman in the gallery stood next.
"Please identify yourself for the record," the bailiff requested.
"Lucille Dunlow, Department of Social Services," the woman recited. "social Services has determined that the Lopez' home meets the requirements for foster care. Mr. Lopez is employed. Mr. and Mrs. Lopez' son is a firefighter with Los Angeles County."
"Thank you. You may be seated," Judge Sandridge told the small family. He surveyed the gallery, watching two men walk in. Both wore the uniform of the LA County Fire Department. "Is there anything else before I rule?"
Johnny was still standing when the Judge asked the question. Without hesitation, he answered, "I'd like to say something, Your Honor. May I come forward?"
The Judge motioned Johnny to the front. "You are?"
"My name is John Gage, Sir."
"Oh? The victim?" Sandridge's voice remained even.
"Yes, Sir. I am."
"Mr. Gage, this is a juvenile proceeding. The laws of the Sate of California don't allow me to take your plea into account in my ruling," Sandridge informed.
Johnny hesitated, turning to look back at Roy and the Lopez family behind him. Then he turned back to the bench. "No, Sir. I'm here to say that I believe that living with the Lopez' would be in Daniel's best interest. I've thought about it a lot and I think Daniel would only learn more about hate in prison or where ever you send kids. He needs to learn patience and understanding, something he wouldn't get locked up in a cell." Johnny turned to Daniel who sat at the defense table on the other side of the gallery. "He needs a home, Your Honor. I guess that's all I wanted to say." Without waiting to be dismissed, Johnny turned and walked back to where his partner sitting in the gallery.
Judge Sandridge nodded at the speech. "I've heard all I need to hear and I'm ready to rule. Daniel Struthers, please stand." He watched as the trembling youth stood. "Daniel, I sentence you to three years in prison."
Mrs. Lopez moaned at the words.
"The sentence is hereby suspended. You are hereby placed on probation for a term of three years. During that time, you will be remanded to the custody of Social Services to be placed in foster care, with the Juan Lopez family. You'll serve community services during this time." Judge Sandridge smiled as Mrs. Lopez a wiped a tear from her eyes, then banged his gavel on the desk top. "Court is hereby dismissed."
