57 comments/ 59770 views/ 29 favorites If It Walks Like a Duck By: Scorpio44a [If you want to read a sex story, move on. All the sex in this story is in the last two lines. They are best if read after you read all the other lines. This is what some call a social story. Maybe it could be called a parable. For lawyers reading this, remember this is a fantasy and it takes place in rural America. Remember, John Grisham didn't write it.] * "Maybe there's nothing I can do about it." "You believe what you just said?" My Dad looked over at me. He looked back at the long road in front of us. I had been talking to him about the trouble I was having in school. Paul Garrett was a year ahead of me and seemed to be the star of the whole school. That would be Ok except he was blaming me for something I was sure he did. He said he saw me pour dye in the school swimming pool. When it happened I was walking home from school. We live three miles outside town. No one saw me walking home. I had no alibi. Dad had been called and told about what I had done before I even got home. I walked into the kitchen and he was sitting at the table with Mom. They looked up at me and asked what I had done after school. "I dropped the books at the library and walked home." "Go anywhere else?" He asked. "I stopped ay Mr. White's farm and watered a tree, Sir." "The principal of the school, Mr. Morgan, called and said you were seen pouring dye into the swimming pool." "It wasn't me, Sir." "I believe you. He says you're guilty. We have to both go to school in the morning and have a meeting with Mr. Morgan. I don't want to go. Can you straighten this out without me?" "I can speak to Mr. Morgan myself, but I think it comes down to my word over whoever said I did it." "Then you go and you tell him I believe you had nothing to do with what happened." "Yes, Sir." He was called by Mr. Morgan when I walked in without him. Mr. Morgan is used to being obeyed. He didn't even speak to me. He pointed to a chair and I sat. He picked up his phone and dialed my Dad. He got Mom. Dad was on our tractor and half a mile from the house. "Mrs. Peterson, this is Mr. Morgan. When I spoke to your husband yesterday I told him to come to school with Nick this morning. He came to my office alone." I didn't hear what Mom said but I watched Mr. Morgan's face get redder and he said, "Then I have no choice. Nick is suspended until the end of the quarter and until your family pays to have the pool cleaned." He hung up. He sat quite still for almost a minute, looked at me and asked, "Why the hell are you still sitting there? Get off my campus!" "No, hearing? You don't want my side of what happened? I'm automatically guilty?" "Who should I believe, you or Paul Garrett? What basis would I have to believe you over him?" "You have two daughters don't you?" "You know I do." "If you walk into the kitchen and see milk on the floor and you ask Kathleen how it got there and she says Karen did it, will you ask Karen or is she guilty?" "Neither of my girls would leave a spill. Now, get out. I've wasted enough time on you. I'll call your parents when I get a quote on cleaning the pool." I walked home and went to work. On our farm there is always work to be done. When Dad came in for lunch he saw me shoveling manure from the stalls in the barn. "Come have lunch." We ate and he asked about the meeting. Mom told him about the phone call. I told him what I saw and heard. After lunch he said he needed to drive to Bridgeport and get something for the tractor. He invited me to go. An invitation from my Dad is a lot like hearing God say, "Would you like to do this for me?" It would not be wise to say "No thanks." On that ride I made the statement that got his reaction. "Maybe there's nothing I can do about it." "You believe what you just said?" My Dad looked over at me. He looked back at the long road in front of us. "No. I just don't see what I can do. Paul is the football star, the best point guard the school has ever had and it looks like he'll get a scholarship to a big school somewhere. I'm not sure Mr. Morgan even knew who I was before yesterday." "So, you give up?" He said the words with no emotion. Giving up was something my Dad never did. "What can I do?" "Find a way. I won't solve the problem for you. You need to finish your education. You need to be cleared of the charges. I'm not paying to clean the pool. You are not going to give up. Do your research, find a way." I was quiet all the way to Bridgeport and back. When we got home I went back into the barn and shoveled more shit. At dinner time Mom rang the triangle and we washed. At dinner we talked about farming. The school and the pool were my problem. At a little after seven the phone rang. Dad answered and held the phone out to me. It was Fran. "I heard you got tossed out of school." "I heard the same thing." "Guess who thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever heard?" "Paul." "Yeah! I heard his girl-friend Janice tell two of her friends in the girl's locker room that he laughed when he heard they booted you out." "She say anything else?" "Yes! She said he did it and framed you. He framed you because you made him look bad in Algebra two." "Because I got a better score on the mid-term?" "Being the star is his thing." "I have an idea. You willing to help me?" "Sure. What can I do?" "It may be distasteful but I need you to tape him or his friends telling you that he did it. Then I can use the recording to show I didn't do it." "Ok, if I can. Oh, I found out a deep dark secret. Did you know the Mr. Morgan is the uncle of Paul's Mom?" "Oh? How did that secret come to you?" I was delivering attendance to the office this morning and his secretary answered the phone. She turned to him and said, "It's Mrs. Garrett." He picked up the phone and asked her, "How's my favorite niece?" I did some checking with the paper and her maiden name was Morgan. The wedding announcement listed him as attending the wedding." "Thanks. That will help too. Can you get me the assignments from my classes for the next two weeks?" "I can, but why? You're out. Mr. Morgan didn't suspend you, you're gone." "Not so. He said I was out until I paid to have the pool cleaned and until the end of the quarter. I want to have all my assignments ready to turn in when I come back." "Ok. I'll get the assignments from other people in your classes. How much will cleaning the pool cost?" "Whatever it costs, we won't pay it. I didn't dye the pool." "I believe you, but I don't count." "Yes you do. You count for a lot! And, thanks for helping me." I went out to the barn and forked hay for the animals while I thought. I thought about how to get Paul to be the one who got the blame for the dye, and how to pay him back for blaming me. The next day I was up at four-thirty and out taking care of our animals. They were into the routine of me getting to them before I left for school, so the reality of my not going to school didn't matter to them. They expected me by five in the morning, every morning. By seven they were all ready; eggs collected, cows milked and put out to pasture, horse brushed and given fresh hay and oats. I opened the doors at both ends of the barn and let the morning breeze freshen the air and cool off the barn interior. I ate breakfast and asked Dad what he wanted me to do. "Make believe this is your farm. Look around. See what needs doing and do it. I'll be sitting on the tractor for the whole day. The section over by Wilbert's fence needs breaking up. If you need me, ride Blizzard out to me." He smiled as he said our horse's name. She was the biggest, blackest, Dutch Heavy Draft mare in the county. Twenty-two hundred pounds of muscle, on the hoof. Dad named her Blizzard after plenty of people at the auction suggested names like Blacky, Midnight or Pepper. Mom had made lunches for both of us, not knowing how close we would be to the house. I knew what needed to be done. If it was my farm I'd be the one on the tractor and since my hand was doing that I was freed up to clean up the irrigation ditch. I got Blizzard and the special weed burner she would pull and we headed for the ditch. The weed burner was a contraption we built that rode on two metal wheels. The wheels rode along the top edge of the ditch while the center bowed deep into the dry ditch. There were ten nozzles between the wheels and a safe distance from the propane tank that fed the nozzles. Once it was lit it would burn all the weeds in the ditch in one day. It used to take three days when we used a plow and then had to harvest all the cut weeds. It was hot, noisy and dirty work but when we opened the flow of water on our day it would flow clear and smooth. In late afternoon, Blizzard and I headed back to the barn. We parked the burner near the end of the ditch, unhitched Blizzard and I climbed aboard. At eighteen hands she was a magnificent creature and we loved being together. As soon as I was aboard she set off, but not for home. She headed for the pond. Dad and I built a pond the year I was in seventh grade. It was a watering hole for migrating birds, he said. It also served as a watering hole for all kinds of other animals and Dad got pictures of a lot of them. He put signs and things near the edge of the pond so when he showed someone a picture, they knew where the picture came from. On warm days when we had worked hard and gotten dirty Blizzard loved to wade into the pond so she was standing in the water with her back wet. That made the water about seven feet deep. The first time Mom saw us wade in she laughed. Blizzard's neck and head and me from the waist up showed. The rest of us was under water. As we started back to the barn, dripping gallons of water as Blizzard walked it hit me, "Where could Paul have gotten enough dye to color the pool?" I took care of Blizzard then visited Mom in her garden. "Mom, let's say you wanted to dye all the sheets, curtains and clothes in our family. Where would you get the dye?" "Crawfords!" She stood up, smiled as she said it and went back to work. I looked at my watch and calculated some things. I had over an hour until my friends would be out of school. I got down on my knees and pulled weeds with Mom for that hour. When I spoke to Fran I had her call anyone she was sure wasn't one of Paul's friends and have them meet us at the covered bridge. I told Mom what was up and that I'd probably miss dinner. She told me to check the oven when I got back. It would have been faster and easier to ride Blizzard but it would also have been obvious. She doesn't hide well. So I ran and walked to the bridge. I got there first. I climbed up into the rafters and waited. Kids arrived and gathered in the shade. When twenty-five or so were there I came down. "I need your help. You all know I was sent home from school, not to return this quarter and not to return until I pay to clean the pool." "But, you didn't do it!" Josh Reynolds said. "You're right. What I need to do is prove that. There's only one place in the county where he could get enough dye to color the pool, Crawford's." They use that new computer scanner for everything. Whoever bought the dye left a paper trail." "Mr. Crawford won't help us. He's afraid of the Garretts." "He won't, but maybe someone who works for him might." Fran said. "Who?" "His wife! My Mom told me Mrs. Crawford believes Mr. Garrett is having an affair." "Could one of you talk to her?" Bob asked, "What would I say to her? I live next door and we talk almost every day, but not about this kind of thing." "Next time you talk, mention that it must have taken a lot of dye to color the pool. Maybe the chemistry teacher would assign students to find out how much dye it would take." "That'll get her curious who bought all that dye. Good idea." "One of you others can go into the office and ask how many gallons of water the pool holds. Someone else can ask the chemistry teacher how to calculate how much dye it would take to turn the water the color it is. If we spread the questions around they might not get what's happening until we have some proof I didn't do it." Plans and methods of getting the information back to me were settled and the group went home. The phone rang five minutes after I got home. "Is this Nick?" A voice I didn't recognize asked. "This is Nick." "You best have a good alibi for this Friday night. Someone is planning another prank and they plan to blame you." "What do they plan to do?" "I don't know. I just heard they plan to pin it on you." "Thanks." Before I could say or ask anything more, the line went dead. Dad looked over at me. "I've just been warned that a prank is going to be blamed on me Friday night. I'll need an alibi." "Saying you're here with us isn't good enough. What will you do?" He wasn't going to help. This was my problem, my solution. "I don't know, but I will by Friday night." My friend Alan loves photography. He lives on a farm about four miles north of town and he rides to school on a horse too. We became friends the year I started riding Blizzard to school. Second grade. I rode the scenic route and met him on his way home from school Thursday. While Blizzard and Spot got reacquainted (Spot is an Appy) I handed Alan ten dollars. "What's this for?" "Buy fast, high contrast film and take pictures of Paul Garrett from the time school lets out tomorrow until he is home in bed." I explained what was happening and he said he was on the case. He had thoughts of becoming a photographer for the police of a big city. This was just practice for him. I turned Blizzard for home before Alan started talking lenses and f-stops. At four-thirty the next morning I was up and in the barn. At seven we had breakfast. Dad asked, "What are you doing tonight?" "I'm going over to the sheriff's office in Bridgeport and I'm spending the night. Before I fall into the gutter on Main Street I'll drink a beer and spill a little on me. They'll take one whiff and toss me in the tank for the night. Tomorrow they'll want my name for the records and I'll have proof of where I was." "Good plan. May I offer a suggestion?" "Sure." "There's a livestock auction in Lincoln Saturday morning. If you and I are seen in the barbershop Friday afternoon and we buy something at the auction Saturday morning there's only one way that could happen. We had to drive all night to get there." "If you buy something, it proves you were there." "If you buy something, you had to be there. I think we need a new sow. A young one. She can ride home in the back of the truck if we put the stake sides on." "I like your idea better than mine. Thanks." "Your idea would probably work. Mine gets us a new sow and keeps you from drinking a beer. Your Momma doesn't much like beer drinkers." Friday at three we went into the barbershop in town. Mr. Carstairs was in the chair. He's the mayor. Carl Smith was next, he owns the bowling alley. We talked about sports, crops and the weather. No one mentioned school. They knew I was not in school. When Dad got in the chair Socks asked why were getting haircuts. "When my wife hands me money and says it's you or the sheep shears, we get in the truck. You want a better answer than that? Ask her." The conversation went to the latest on if our Congressman was having an affair with a woman on the City Council or not. Socks said he believed the rumors. They call him Socks because his name is Frank Argyle. Dad says it started when they played high school baseball. We left the barbershop at four-thirty. Dad asked Socks if he was sure his clock was right. He compared it to his watch and the watch of the two other men in the shop. They all agreed, it was four-thirty. We headed north and picked up my Uncle in Winner, South Dakota. We drove all night and had breakfast in Lincoln Nebraska. Dad kept the receipt from the Denny's. It showed what time we ordered and what we had for breakfast. He handed me a credit card to pay for breakfast. It had my name on it. I got the message. He was helping me prove where I was all night. The auction started at nine. By nine forty five I had bought a nice two month old China-Poland sow. My Uncle bought her sister. By ten thirty we were back on the road. I drove half way while Dad slept and then he drove and I slept. It was twelve thirty when I unloaded the sow into our barn. Twelve thirty at night. Mom was sitting in the kitchen with a warm pie, ice cream and the latest news. Seems that the sheriff had been by looking for me. Mom told him I was with my Dad on an errand. She wasn't sure when we would be back. She asked why he was looking for me. Someone had painted slurs on the side of Crawford's market and the witnesses said it was you. Dad smiled. He picked up the phone and called the sheriff. "Sheriff, this is Lee Peterson. My wife tells me you're looking for Nick. We just got home. You can come by now or wait till morning. If you say you're coming we'll wait up, otherwise were going to bed. Got to get up at four thirty." We went to bed. Three hours later I was up and taking care of animals. I saw how Mom did the job while we were gone. She did fine, just not quite how I do it. I took a few extra minutes with the new sow. At seven we had breakfast. At seven-thirty we heard tires outside the back door. Mom let the sheriff in, offered him coffee, eggs and toast. He said no, and ate everything she gave him. "Friday night a vandal painted the side of Crawford's. Two witnesses came to me and said Nick is the one who did it." Dad took another bite of eggs and chewed. He washed it down with coffee. "You believe them?" "I have to check it out." "Who were the witnesses?" "I can't tell you that." "It will tell me who lies in this town. Nick has been within ten feet of me since three Friday afternoon. I can and will prove it in court, if need be, but we will be standing in front of the liars who say Nick did this." "You know I can't tell you who told me." "Then arrest Nick and call the judge. He will not speak until we are in court. Those witnesses lied to you, sheriff. When we prove it, what happens to them?" "Filing a false police report. A misdemeanor." "Did they use spray cans or a brush?" "Spray cans." "I'll bet they bought them from Crawfords. I'll also bet the dye in the pool was bought there. As they say on television, follow the money." The sheriff had finished his breakfast. He stood. I stood. He looked at me and I said, "I don't want to wear handcuffs. I'll ride in the back and I promise not to attempt an escape." "I don't want to take you in." "Then what about the report that I'm a vandal?" "I'll do some more investigation. I'll go to Crawford's and look at their records." "I'll stay here." I sat back down. An hour later Mom rang the triangle. I headed back to the house. Fran was sitting on our back porch with Mom. Mom had her arm around Fran's shoulders. When she looked up I wanted to cry. Her eyes were both swollen almost closed. Her nose was smashed and from her upper lip to her hairline she was black and blue. She stood and I held her while she cried. I looked at Mom and she put a finger to her lips, telling me to stay quiet. Mom went back in the house and when she came back she had crushed ice wrapped in a towel. We sat Fran back down and gave her the ice. She held it to her face and continued to cry. Mom sat on one side and I sat on the other. Eventually she pulled the wet, cold towel away and said, "Guess who Paul said helped you paint the swastika on Crawford's." "That doesn't explain the bruises." "When the sheriff came to our house, I wasn't there. By the time I got home my Dad was mad and drunk. He said I shamed the whole family. As soon as he passed out I left. I hid in Alan's barn then over in the grove before I came here." If It Walks Like a Duck I looked across Fran to Mom, "Will you take her in and take care of her? I have some things I need to do." "Son, be very careful. I'll take care of Fran." I got Blizzard out of the barn and rode her to Dad out on the tractor. He stopped and walked a little ways from the noisy machine. I told him what had happened and he asked what my next move was going to be. "I want to take the truck and go get Fran's things. She can have my room. She cannot live with a man who would beat her like that!" "You can take the truck. I would be very cautious. Her Dad thinks you painted the swastika. If he gets violet, I'd run, not fight." "You're right. Fighting would just make things worse." Blizzard and I went back to the barn and I transferred to the truck. When I stopped in front of Fran's house her mother came out, carrying a suitcase. She was bruised and her lip was torn. She whispered, "Take care of her. I know neither of you did this, but he won't listen." "Get in the truck, please." "I need to stay. He's my husband." "He will hurt you again. He's done it before. Is this the first time he hit Fran?" She shook her head. I opened the door to the truck and helped her in. The suitcase went in the back. I started the truck and drove home. She sat against the door and cried. When I pulled into our yard Mom came out and helped Fran's Mom into the house. Nothing was said while I was there. I brought the suitcase inside and parked it in the hall just outside what used to be my room. Back in the barn I made a stall into a bedroom. Not fancy, but sleepable. When I was done Mom came and gave me a hug. We stood in my new bedroom and held on for a long time. When we let go she said, "They need us. If you approve, I'm calling the sheriff. He needs to see what happened. He needs to know where they are and why." "If I approve? I'm the kid. You and Dad are the adults. This isn't up to me." "You brought Sally home with you. You went to their house to get things for Fran. You know that saying your father has? If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and flys like a duck it is a duck? Well, you walk like a man. You sound like a man and you behave like a man. You are a man. I'm proud of you." She went up on her toes and kissed my cheek. She left the barn. At the door she turned and asked, "Do I call the sheriff?" I nodded. The tractor came into the barn and the engine shut off. Dad came to me and looked at my new room. "You need a lamp and a chair. How many people moved into your old room?" I held up two fingers. "Did he hit her too?" I nodded. "I'm proud of you." He walked towards the house. The white sheriff's car almost ran over him. They went inside together. I stayed in the barn. When the sheriff came out of the house he came to see me. I offered him a hay bale to sit on. He sat. "You certainly have grown up quick." "Thanks." "Can you stay away from town for a couple days?" "Sure, if I need to." "Your hearing is day after tomorrow. Paul Garrett and Wyatt Simons will be there to testify. I'll make sure Fran's Dad is there as well and that he's sober. I don't need anything from you except proof you didn't do the painting. Have it with you. Can you do that?" "My Uncle was with us. Should I ask him to be in court too?" "It wouldn't hurt. We might not need him but, we might." "I'll be there and I'll be ready." He shook my hand and left. At seven Fran rang the triangle. I went to dinner. Five people around the table. Mom had made comfort food. Soft comfort food. Fran sat next to me. Dinner with five people felt weird. When we were done Fran and I did the dishes. Mom and Dad took Mrs. Clarke out to the porch swing and they stayed out there a long time. "Fran, can I get you some ice?" "I'm Ok." "Not an answer to the question I asked. Let me rephrase. If I gave you some crushed ice in a towel would it feel good on your face?" "How much ice do you have?" "How much do we need?" She took my hand and pulled me to my old room. She closed the door and pulled the sweat shirt up over her head. Her ribs were bruised, She turned and I saw more bruises on her back. She pulled the sweatshirt down and asked, "How much ice do you have?" "I wouldn't know where to put what we do have." "I'm Ok. I'll let Mom have it tonight." "I go to court tomorrow." "I know. We're supposed to go too." "You?" "The judge will be seeing Daddy as well as seeing you." "I'm scared. I think we're ready but I'm still scared." "I'm scared too. I don't want my Dad to go to jail and I don't want to live with him ever again. I hate what he did and I love him. He's my Dad." We talked, sitting on the bed that used to be mine until Mrs. Clarke opened the door and asked if she could come in. I left and wished them both a good night's sleep. When I got to the barn there was a floor lamp, a rocking chair, a small table and three boxes of my clothes. And, an alarm clock. It was already set for four-forty-five. Some of our animals snore. By five I was up, dressed and at work. By breakfast I was starving and went inside to pancakes, sausage, toast and a girl with a three color face. She was hard to look at. Mrs. Clarke was worse. Her split lip was swollen and her right eye was closed. She held a towel with ice to her face, took it away, took a bite, winced and put the icy towel back on her face. Mom said, "When it's time to get ready for court I'll ring the triangle. Sally, you'll wear a dress of mine. Nick, I've ironed you a shirt." Dad handed me a big envelope with all the receipts and pictures from our trip. I reminded myself that I quacked like a duck. All the animals were cared for and we all were looking like we were either headed to church or a funeral by the time we needed to go. Dad drove, Mom sat in the middle and Mrs. Clarke sat by the door. Fran and I rode in the back of the truck. Dad parked in front of the courthouse. Our barn was bigger. Inside the sheriff pointed to some empty chairs and we sat. I saw Mr. Garrett, Paul, Paul's friend Wyatt Simons and his parents, Mr. Crawford, the mayor, Mr. Clarke looking sad and sick and the judge. The gavel banged and we were off. The judge asked the sheriff what order he wanted to proceed. He answered, "The case of vandalism on Mr. Crawford's Market, your honor. Two witnesses claimed to have seen Nick Peterson and Fran Clarke spray painting a huge swastika on the wall of the market." "Are those witnesses here in court?" "Yes, your Honor. Paul Garrett and Wyatt Simons." The sheriff pointed to the boys. "I'll hear from Mr. Simons first. Sheriff, have a deputy take Mr. Garrett outside and walk down to the railroad tracks and back. Mr. Simons, please take the stand." Wyatt wobbled as he went to the stand. When he got there the judge looked at his parents and said, "If your son swears to tell the truth will he?" His Dad answered, "He'd better!" The bailiff swore him in and asked him to identify himself. He did. Then the judge asked him to tell what he knew about the swastika. His story was that he and Paul were walking home from the school dance and saw someone beside the store. They snuck closer and saw Nick Peterson and Fran Clarke with spray cans painting the big design on the building. They went to the sheriff and told him what they saw. The judge had him draw on a map of the area around Crawford's on the new white board in the courtroom. "Where were Nick and Fran?" "Where were you?" "Where was Paul?" Are you sure?" He was sure. The judge took a digital picture of the board. He had it erased. He told Wyatt he could step down but he could not leave and he remained under oath. The deputy brought Paul back inside and he was sworn in. The judge asked Paul's father if Paul would tell the truth. His father said, "Yes, your Honor." He asked the same questions that he had asked Wyatt. He had Paul draw on the board to answer the same questions. When he was done he told Paul he could leave the stand but he remained under oath and could not leave the courtroom. He called the sheriff to the stand. He gave the time line beginning with the moment Paul and Wyatt walked into the sheriff's office. "They came in at ten after eleven. They told a story very much like what they told here in court. I drove them home and then drove out to the Clarke home. Mrs. Clarke answered the door and said her daughter had gone to the dance at the school and should be home before midnight. Mr. Clarke came to the door and I could smell whiskey. He wanted to know why I was looking for Fran. I told him there had been a report of vandals and I wanted her side of the story. He got angry and closed the door. I drove to the Peterson farm and Mrs. Peterson told me her son and husband were on an errand and she didn't know when they would return. I told her to have them call me when they returned. "Did they call you?" "Yes, at almost one in the morning, Sunday. I went out to the farm at seven-twenty Sunday morning and spoke to Mr. Peterson. Nick was there. Mr. Peterson claimed to have proof of their whereabouts for the entire evening of Friday but said he would not show it to me until we were in court. He and his son volunteered for Nick to spend time in jail awaiting your arrival." "So, you left him at home?" "Yes, your Honor." "Then what did you do?" "I visited Crawford's. I had his staff look at records and find out who bought cans of red spray paint. In the last six months ten cans have been sold. Eight to our fire department and two were charged to the Garrett family credit card. I called all the stores that sell spray paint within fifty miles and the only two cans unaccounted for are the two purchased by Paul. His signature was on the charge slip." "Hmmm. Anything else?" "Yes, your Honor. Paul was the witness to another vandalism case at the school. He said he witnessed Nick pouring dye into the pool. Mr. Morgan suspended Nick and said he could come back to school next quarter, if her paid to have the pool cleaned." "What does that have to do with this?" "As long as I was at Crawford's I had them look for purchases of dye. When I got the answer I called the same stores in the fifty mile radius and got the same result. Over a three month period Paul Garrett bought sixty boxes of clothing dye, all Navy blue." "Is that all you found?" "No. I found that Mr. Morgan is related to Paul Garrett and his family and therefore suspended Nick without going through the state procedures for doing a suspension. I alerted the state department of education and they are at the school as we speak." "Paul Garret, please resume the stand." He walked slowly to the chair and plopped into it. "You've heard the evidence, so far. You want to tell the truth?" "It wasn't me. Nick had me buy the dye so he'd help me with my Algebra. I want a scholarship so I did it. He painted Crawford's!" "Thank you. Step down. Don't leave and remember, you are still under oath." Wyatt took the stand. "Do you remember that you are still under oath?" "Yes, Sir." "Do you know what the penalty is for lying while under oath in a felony case?" "No, Sir." "You can go to prison. How old are you?" "Seventeen, Sir." "When will you be eighteen?" "In March Sir. Two weeks after Paul." "Paul, please stand." He did. "Do you understand the penalty of lying to me in this case?" "Isn't spray painting a misdemeanor?" "If you spray paint the name of a school, a girl's name, or your name yes. A swastika makes it a hate crime and a felony. Do you understand the penalty for lying to me?" "I do now." "Would you like to change your testimony?" "Yes, Sir. Nick didn't do it. I put the dye in the pool and drew on Crawford's." The judge turned to Wyatt and asked, "Are you going to tell me the truth?" "Yes, Sir. I knew about the dye but I didn't do it. I did half the design. And I lied to the sheriff." "Just out of curiosity, Nick Peterson what proof do you have that you didn't do the spray painting?" I stood up and said, "Dad and I got haircuts from Socks Friday afternoon. The mayor saw us at four-thirty. We drove to Winner, South Dakota and picked up William Nelson, a farmer and drove on to Lincoln Nebraska. We had breakfast at Denny's in Lincoln I have the receipt and I paid with my credit card. At nine-forty-five that Saturday morning I bought a China-Poland sow and I have the bill of sale. I filled up with gas in Winner that evening and we called the sheriff at one Sunday morning." As I spoke I held up receipts. "All charges against Nick Peterson are dropped. Paul Garrett stand up again." He did. "You are in contempt of court. You will be held without bail pending being charged with a felony hate crime, perjury and a few other crimes. Kiss your Mother good-bye." Paul didn't move. The deputy grabbed his arm and hustled Paul out of the courtroom. The judge looked at Wyatt and said, "Stand up, Mr. Simons. You are also to be tried for perjury, a hate crime and if I could I'd try you for stupidity as well. Sheriff, don't put them in the same cell." He banged the gavel. "Sheriff, What's the next case?" "The Clarke family. It's a domestic violence case, your Honor. When I told the Clarke's I needed to speak to Fran Mr. Clarke got angry. When she came home, he beat her and her mother. While he was passed out she ran away. He beat Mom again when he woke up." "Sally, is that you?" The judge asked. She nodded. "Stand up." She did. He looked at her face and then waved her back into her seat. "Fran, can you stand?" She used the chair for balance and stood. "There are more bruises aren't there?" "Yes. My ribs and back are bruised." "Mr. Clarke stand up. What do you have to say that justifies beating these two women?" "I'm sorry, your Honor." "Stop. Listen to my question. Answer only what I ask. What do you have to say that justifies beating these two women?" He looked at the floor and said, "Nothing." "Right. There is a quote that I want you to memorize while you are in jail, Mr. Clarke. Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent." "Sheriff, put him in a cell between those two young men." The sheriff started for the door with Mr. Clarke when the judge spoke again. In this state I can grant a divorce if there are grounds. Mr. Clarke has given ample grounds and a confession. Mrs. Clarke, a divorce can cost thousands of dollars or we can do it right her, right now. Would you like a divorce?" Mrs. Sally Clarke looked through her one good eye at her husband and said, "Yes." "I'll have my clerk prepare the papers and Mr. Clarke will sign them. Your divorce is granted and is effective today." The courtroom was quiet and the judge slammed down the gavel. "We're done for today." He walked out the back door. Mr. Garrett came to me and apologized for his son. He volunteered to pay to have the pool cleaned and the swastika removed from Crawford's. I wondered aloud if the sheriff could have prisoners do the work. Wyatt's Dad said, "I'm as much to blame as my son. If he scrapes the wall, I'll be right there with him. I'm sorry for all of this mess." Three days later Paul, Wyatt and their Dads were scraping the paint off all those bricks, one brick at a time. They started at four-thirty in the morning and worked until eight at night. Breakfast was Cherrios. Lunch was a peanut butter sandwich and dinner was a bologna sandwich and a beer. It took the four of them almost a week to finish the wall and the hand scrubbing of an empty Olympic sized swimming pool. Mr. Simons and Mr. Garrett have become good friends and pretty good people. The new Principal of the school had classes watch the scrubbing as a teaching moment. In June Fran and Sally moved back to their house. Fran and I had painted the inside and cleaned things up. Sally Clarke got a job in town, at Crawford's. My sow weighed seven hundred pounds that July and won a ribbon at the state fair. Fran still comes by and spends the night in her room. Difference is, I stay there too. After all, if you walk like a duck...