Jago 5

judge

They stood bunched together in the corridor, staring out through a large window; it was nighttime. Light spilled from windows and streetlamps on the street. They were on edge. ‘Isn’t natural,’ Davis muttered, staring at the light coming from the ceiling while Rat glanced into each empty room that led from the corridor, keeping a firm hold of his panga, ready to rain down butchery on anyone who might surprise him.

‘It’s like the oldtime,’ Blanko said quietly, ‘It’s like someone found the power again and everything came back to life. My old nana told me about it. Everything was light. Everything was colored lights.’ He stopped to peer over Rat’s shoulder into an empty office where computers screens scrolled through screensaver images: different computers, different images. ‘So many pictures,’ he said to himself.

‘If that scout came through here,’ Davis said, ‘She’s gone. She won’t hide here. Too much light. Too dangerous. She’d leg it.’

‘Can’t see from light into dark,’ Rat said, echoing the old wisdom.

‘This ain’t about the scout,’ Blanko said to himself. ‘Not right now.’

‘Let’s get somewhere dark,’ Davis said.

‘Thought we were the dark,’ Rat whispered with a grin. ‘We bring dark with us.’

‘Darkness is our special skill,’ Blanko replied, getting into the conversation, almost smiling.

‘Well let’s find somewhere more appropriate for our special skills,’ Davis said.

Rat looked up, saw an exit sign. ‘This way,’ he said, pointing.

A few moments later they found a door and kicked it open, stepping and tripping into the comforting darkness of an alley. In the main street at the end of the alley the lights were even brighter and the sounds were huge, breaking up the placid calm of night into waves of color and noise, but here in the alley it felt relatively dark and safe. ‘Kit check,’ Davis said, and they automatically checked and cinched their gear.

I’m getting hungry,’ Blanko said. He looked up, sniffed the air, was about to start walking but Davis grabbed his arm. Blanko flinched, and for a moment Davis saw something deep and unsettling in Blanko’s expression. He let go. ‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘We got to be cautious.’

‘I can smell food,’ Blanko said. ‘Cooked food.’

‘Spices,’ Rat added.

‘Cooked food with spices.’ Blanko said, his mouth filling with saliva, stumbling over the words.

‘Let’s not act hasty,’ Davis said. If there were lights and sound, it would attract others. Silently, carefully, weapons held ready, they edged to the end of the narrow lane, stepping back in horror as a huge truck passed them on the main street, a flashing, exploding movement of steel and color and light accompanied by an indecent blaring noise. Davis cursed, then spat and retreated back into the alley as the others grinned and shuffled at their momentary weakness. ‘Never seen one move,’ he said, staring at it as it receded. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Where are we?’ Rat whispered, moving up alongside him, his voice containing a tone of awe. The others ignored him and stared out into the street again where they saw people walking, chatting, unheeding of the ordinary dangers of the night, they saw shop fronts and office blocks spewing light and sound, ‘What’s happened?’ Rat asked. The question all three were thinking.

‘Everything’s changed,’ Blanko said. He was less prone to excitement, always seeing what was, not what should be, ‘It looks like the same place, but it’s not. It’s a different place.’

‘That little room, it did something,’ Davis whispered, almost to himself. ‘I don’t like it.’

Out on the street, the world seemed to be moving at ten times its usual pace. Rat and Blanko were quiet as the gravity of the situation sank in, both of them staring from the shadows, waiting, until Davis said, ‘You two, stay put. I’ll go and scope about, see what’s going on.’

---

Jane woke to the sound of the door creaking and opened a tired eyelid to see a diminutive black detective bringing in a tray of coffee and bagels. She rubbed both her eyes with her knuckles to accustom herself to the unexpected daylight and then she unentwined herself from Dakota’s sleeping arms; glanced at the clock on the wall: almost seven. She’d had around three hours sleep. ‘Morning doc’ the detective said, ‘thought I’d bring you and the tiny terror a bit of breakfast.’

‘Thanks, Wiley, you’re a lifesaver.’

He placed the tray on the table beside the folding bed, ‘You comfortable there?’ he asked.

‘Surprising what being tired will do,’ she told him, stretching some of the stiffness out of her muscles. The previous night a female officer had provided sweatpants and a t-shirt for her and a smaller set for Dakota. She picked up the coffee and took a sip, studying the cocktail dress she’d worn for the first time yesterday, now hanging over the back of a chair. ‘I need a shower,’ she said.

Detective Wiley glanced at the dress. ‘You break your plans last night?’

She nodded, sipping her coffee. She raised the cup, ‘Nice. Thanks.’

He said, ‘I heard all about the kid last night but I was already off duty, on my way home; it sounded like a riot.’ He turned to look at Dakota’s still-sleeping form, ‘But she’s just a little kid.’

Jane slipped on the flipflops she’d been provided with, holding the coffee mug with both hands. Wiley said, ‘Don’t know if anyone told you, but your charge there has got a hearing with the judge at ten.’

Jane spluttered into her coffee, ‘What? You’re shitting me, right?’

‘Language, doc,’ Wiley said nodding toward the sleeping girl.

‘It’s Sunday. Where’d they get a judge at ten am on a Sunday morning? I need to get changed. How…?’

‘Calm down, doc,’ he said. ‘Wake the kid, tell her what’s going on. I can sit with her for an hour while you go and get changed, she’s still asleep.’

‘I’m awake,’ Dakota’s voice came from behind the braids that had fallen across her face. ‘Been awake a long while, shorty.’

‘Says Sleeping Beauty,’ Wiley countered.

A snort. ‘I heard you come up the stairs, little man’ Dakota said quietly, ‘You dropped something before you got to the top and you were a little angry at yourself.’

Wiley looked at Jane with an expression that simply said How the hell..? and watched Dakota turn over, sit up beside Jane, and say, ‘I got good hearing.’

Jane passed her a mug of coffee and a plate with a bagel.

Wiley pulled up a chair, watched Dakota devour the bagel, the coffee, and then another. He said, ‘Hey, Tiny Terror, you ok to sit with me for an hour while the doctor goes home and changes?’

Dakota picked up a donut and began eating it. Between bites she said, ‘Can I come downstairs?’

‘You got cream on your face,’ Wiley said, picked up a tissue and very gently wiped the corner of her mouth. Jane watched them. They seemed to get along easy straight off, but Wiley had that effect on people, he was relaxed and calm, friendly. His authority, if needed, was personal, and had nothing to do with the badge he wore or the pistol on his belt.

‘Can I come downstairs?’ Dakota repeated.

Jane looked at Wiley whose eyes twinkled for a moment, said, ‘Sure. Just don’t beat up the uniforms, huh?’ Dakota shrugged, the universal teenage sign: whatever. Jane picked up her bag, ‘I’ll need to get Dakota some clothes too. The Mad Max vibe won’t go down well with the judge. Nor will the oversized gym outfit. Makes her look like she’s used to living in a cell.’ Dakota said nothing, she was too busy eating her second bagel.

---

At five to ten they were sitting together on a bench outside the courtroom. Dakota was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, borrowed from spare clothes Jane’s niece, her older sister’s daughter, had left behind a couple of summers ago, clothes that she’d hurried home to collect, before having a quick shower and changing into something more formal herself. Dakota was wearing a huge hoodie too but instead of her boots she was wearing deck shoes and striped socks.

‘These clothes feels strange,’ she’d told Jane as they changed at the police station. ‘Soft.’

‘You should shower too,’ Jane said.

‘I’m clean.’

She smelled of earth, Jane thought, and it wasn’t unpleasant, just… she wasn’t sure what it was.

Dakota stared at her, eyes scanning her, and said, What’s on your face?’

‘Make up?’

‘You look like you’ve had a shock.’

Jane made an effort to not come back with a sharp retort. Instead she said, ‘Come on, the judge doesn’t like being kept waiting.’

‘What’s the judge?’

‘The person who decides your future.’

Dakota smiled, ‘Right,’ like she wasn’t impressed. Then she said, ‘I like Wiley.’

‘Most people do,’ Jane said, opening the door onto the corridor. Trying to remember which route would take her direct from the police offices to the court antechamber in which the hearing was to be held.

Dakota said, ‘He likes you too.’

‘Likes me as a friend,’ Jane said. ‘A colleague.’

Dakota clicked her tongue, impatient. ‘He likes you.’

Jane said, ‘He’s married.’

Dakota clicked her tongue again, shrugged. It occurred to Jane that being a teenager was universal, whether you lived in a mansion in La Jolla or, as the sheriff had put it, some whacked-out commune in the hills.

‘How are the shoes?’ Jane began fussing over Dakota’s hair, ‘I’ve got a ribbon in my bag to tie this back.’

‘The shoes are fine,’ Dakota said, ‘And my hair is fine. Just tell me what we are here for?’

‘We are going to speak to a judge and we are going to ask the judge if you can stay somewhere safe, while we find out where you belong.’

‘I’ll stay with you,’ Dakota said simply.

‘You can’t,’ Jane said, avoiding Dakota’s gaze.

Dakota sat down next to her, closed her eyes, hummed to herself, allowing Jane to fuss her hair.

‘You can’t stay with me,’ Jane repeated.

Dakota continued to hum quietly; eyes closed.

Jane tried her best to do something reasonable with Dakota’s matted locks, she reached into her bag and took out a burgundy velvet ribbon. ‘Last night was a one-time-only offer. I have a job that needs my presence, physically andmentally, and I need to go home and get ready. I can’t be fostering…’ she paused, trying to describe to herself what Dakota was exactly, but just added a lame, ‘…you.’

‘You have a boyfriend?’ Dakota asked.

‘I did last night. Today however,’ she took a sharp breath, ‘Today, we’ll see.’

‘Chuck him,’ Dakota said. ‘Do it now. You want to. Go out with Wiley instead.’

‘Wiley is married,’ she repeated.

‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Dakota said.

‘You sure about that?’

Dakota shook her head. ‘You have to take things where you find them.’

‘You can’t stay with me,’ Jane said.

Dakota gave the universal shrug, sat back, closed her eyes, began humming again. ‘You definitely can’t stay with me,’ Jane repeated, twisting Dakota’s hair sharply as she tied the ribbon around it. Then the courtroom door opened and an usher beckoned them in.

---

‘Well, that was unexpected,’ Jane said. She turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door.

Dakota stood beside her saying nothing, carrying nothing but the hoodie she’d been given by Jane and had taken off in the car, the borrowed t-shirt hanging loose from her narrow shoulders. Jane went straight into the kitchen to the alarm and pressed numbers on the keypad to switch it off. Dakota stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the entire room before she entered. ‘Shut the door,’ Jane said. Dakota stepped inside, gave a flick of her hip, shoving the door closed ‘This is your home?’ Dakota asked.

‘Yes.’

Dakota took in her surroundings.

---

Two hours earlier, when Dakota had entered the courtroom, she was told by a man in a uniform to sit down next to Dr. Smith. Jane had smiled reassuringly at her and whispered, ‘It’ll be alright. The judge is a good lady.’

Another woman sat at the other side of Jane, and then the sheriff came through the door and sat on the row behind them. They waited quietly, the other woman checking notes taken from a worn leather briefcase. Dakota leaned over to the woman, pointed at one of the buckles on the bag, ‘You should stitch that,’ she said, ‘Stitchin’s almost worn, and the buckle will fall off. You’ll lose it.’

The woman looked at the bag, picked at the loose stitching, then looked back at Dakota. ‘Thank you,’ she said, a look of mild confusion on her face.

After a few minutes had passed another door opened and the man in the blue shirt said, ‘All Rise,’ as a tall black woman with a handsome face and close-cropped grey hair walked into the room, followed by another, smaller woman who was wearing glasses. As the taller woman went to the bench at the front of the room, everyone stood up including, after a moment’s delay, Dakota. The tall woman sat down and looked at the gathering.

She paused, then said, ‘Please be seated.’

A shuffle of the feet and notes followed as everyone settled themselves, then the judge said, ‘Good morning. I’m Judge Cluny. This is my clerk and stenographer Lauren. You know Tony, the bailif.’

‘Morning Judge,’ the sheriff said, ‘Tony, Lauren.’

Jane and the woman with the frayed briefcase stayed silent. The judge nodded at the sheriff then turned to the court. ‘We’ll keep this informal.’ She looked down at her notes again, taking a minute or two to read through them, then turned to look directly at Dakota and said, ‘We’re here to decide what to do with you, young lady. Where you should be, who your family are, where they are, where you will be living in the future, your education status and, hopefully after that we’ll get you where you need to be.’ She looked at the others, who nodded agreement. The stenographer’s fingers tapped away on a small keyboard. The judge went on. ‘I’m going to ask the sheriff for a summary of what happened last night. Then I’m going to ask Dr. Smith about your physical condition. Then I’m going to ask Ms. Roberts there,’ and she indicated the woman sitting next to Jane, ‘about what provisions are available for you.’

Dakota nodded.

‘But first, I’m going to ask you some questions. And I’ll need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?’

Dakota nodded.

The clerk said, ‘Say, “yes, your honor.”’

Dakota stayed quiet.

The judge waited for a moment, then said, ‘Do you know what a judge is, Dakota? That is your name, isn’t it? Dakota Scout?’

Dakota nodded.

‘Do you know what a judge is?’ the judge asked again.

Dakota said, ‘No.’

The judge sat back a little, appraising her. Then she said, ‘The people of the United States of America are subject to laws. Rules. We have lots of freedoms, but we have laws too, to protect our freedoms. The police there,’ and she nodded toward the sheriff, ‘They detain people who have broken the law. And normally, if people are accused of a crime, we have a trial, where we search the evidence to see if a person is guilty or innocent of the crime that they’ve been accused of.’ She paused, to see if Dakota was absorbing this. ‘Normally, in a trial we would have lawyers, people who represent the laws of the country on one side, and people who represent those who have been accused on the other. They argue about the facts, and my job is to keep these facts relevant and to keep the trial moving along toward a conclusion.’ She stopped talking for a few moments and looked through her notes. ‘In this case, however, there is no trial. I am here to act as representative of the state, in order to decide what is the best thing to do on your behalf.’

‘I don’t need anyone to decide,’ Dakota said.

The judge said, ‘How old are you?’

‘Fifteen.’

The judge said ‘Well our laws are clear on that. At fifteen you do not have the right to decide for yourself. You’re not yet classified as an adult.’ Again, she studied Dakota for a long moment, then said, ‘Let me ask you some questions, and we’ll see what we can establish, then you can maybe ask me some questions.’

And so she began.

Dakota kept her answers simple and unadorned. She told them where she lived, mostly, in the hills to the west, she said, and she explained that she came into town to scavenge for food or useful items. No, she had no living family, so far as she knew. She had friends, other young people who lived similarly to her, three or four of them. No, she was not abused by anyone. The scars she had were from accidents and animals. Yes, she could read and write. No, she’d never been to school, her grandmother had taught her. Everything else she’d learned in a library. And so it went on for about thirty minutes until the judge felt she had established Dakota’s situation. Then the judge thanked her and turned to the sheriff, began asking him questions. Dakota could follow the pattern of the questions, even if some of the details were alien to her.

The judge’s tone with the sheriff was less gentle than the one she had used with Dakota, however. At one point she stopped the sheriff with a raised hand, her expression indignant, and said sharply, ‘Sheriff, am I to understand that you’re telling me your six foot, two hundred pound, healthy young male deputies couldn’t deal with this tiny female?’ and when he went to reply she cut him off sharply, ‘I do understand that you need to use restraint techniques,’ and her voice lowered ominously, ‘but if I get to hear of you tasering a child again, short of that child being armed with a flamethrower or a locked and loaded assault rifle, I will throw you, you sheriff, not your deputies, I will personally throw you into a cell myself. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, judge,’ the sheriff said, downcast.

Dakota allowed herself a little smile. The taser had not been pleasant. It made her body go stiff and then she fell over, banging her face and jaw, which felt stiff and sore.

The judge then moved on and asked Jane Smith a series of questions. Then she began questioning Ms. Roberts the social worker. Finally, she looked at the three adults facing her, then at Dakota, and her face softened. ‘So, Dakota Scout,’ she paused, ‘A fifteen year-old who steals food from university staff canteens and, it appears, books from the library, was arrested yesterday, resisted arrested most forcefully,’ and at this the judge checked her notes, peering over the top of her half-moon glasses, ‘do give my regards to Deputy Wade, Sheriff, and suggest the next time he tangles with an eighty-eight pound teenage girl he brings a bodyguard,’ and she flicked a raised eyebrow at Dakota and continued, ‘Dakota was arrested as a vagrant runaway, we have established that she has no close or living relatives, and she is here so we can decide on the best course of action.’ She glanced around. ‘Dakota has no known relatives, no permanent place of residence, has never been to a school but, can read and write and, according to the medical report, is very healthy, if a little underweight.’ The judge paused, making everyone wait for her verdict. ‘In my opinion,’ she said finally, ‘subject to monitoring, she is not an habitual criminal and the weapons she was carrying were, in her opinion, tools of survival, not weapons of mass destruction. And I concur with that, though Dakota,’ and at this she looked directly at her, ‘We will not be allowing you to carry potentially dangerous weapons in the city of San Diego, or in the state of California.’ The judge turned a page in her notes and moved on, ‘Until Dakota’s parental situation is confirmed, and subject to her good behavior,’ and at this the judge paused, studying her notes, ‘Dakota will be in need of foster care and enrolled in school as a first objective.’ She looked at each of them in turn. ‘Are we agreed on the basic facts, people?’ Everyone nodded, including Dakota, who decided she liked the judge. She raised her hand, and the judge looked at her.

‘Yes?’

‘I have a thing to ask.’

---

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