Sowhen you didnt say whatever he was hoping you would say, what happened?
Finally he told me he was gonna have to take me down to his office.
Did he say why?
Benny shrugged again. I dont know. Cause I wasnt telling him anything.
Is that what he said? Specifically?
Benny frowned, concentrating. I dont remember exactly what he said. I think he said he wanted to ask me some questions, and, oh, yeah, he made me get out of the car, and there was this beer can on the floor, and he picked it up and asked me if Id been drinking. And I said, no, cause I hadnt.
Did he give you a test? Breathalyzer, walking straight, anything?
Nah. He knew I wasnt drunk. Only there was some beer still in the can, see, and so he was saying I was a minor in possession, like that. Benny shrugged. It wasnt even my beer can. Julio left it in my car the day before, but
So he took you to jail on an MIPa minor in possession?
I guess. I mean, we both knew he was just jacking me. Benny seemed unmoved by the thoughtaccepting, Lisa assumed, that getting hassled by the law was simply a fact of life.
Why?
I dont know. Benny repeated what seemed to be his favorite phrase, even when offering up what he obviously did know in the next sentence. Cause I didnt tell him what he wanted to hear. He wanted to grill me.
And did he?
He took me into his office and asked me a bunch of questions and then he had Padilla lock me up. He grimaced. Probably hoping Id tell that cabron something just because hes Chicano. He followed this statement with a Spanish word that Lisa did not recognize but the derogatory intent of which was clear.
And when did this happen?
Day before yesterday.
So youve been here ever since? Were you arraigned? Taken into court for a hearing?
He shook his head. I aint been nowhere but my cell.
What did he tell you he was charging you with?
I dont know. MIP, I guess. He said he was going to let me think about it and then wed talk some more. His lip curled expressively. Trying to scare me.
Did he hit you? Lisa asked. Hurt you in any way? Threaten you with bodily harm?
The teenager looked at her in faint surprise. Nah. Hes not like that. Hes okay, most of the time. He paused, then added, Hes justyou know, playing his game. And Im playing mine.
Lisa sighed. This was not the first time she had encountered this attitude of being locked with the police in some sort of elaborate game, the rules and movements of which were known to her clients and the cops. Benny had his game face on, the blank mask that withheld emotions, giving nothing away. She had seen it on a hundred faces of young men, black, white, and Latino, when she had worked at the Dallas Public Defenders office the last summer of law school.
You know, Benny, this is a game where he holds most of the cards, she pointed out. The best thing for you to do is not play. Just clam up and call for your attorney next time. Will you do that? Will you call me?
He nodded. You gonna get me out of here?
Yes. When we get through here, Ill have a talk with the sheriff. He knows he doesnt have enough to hold you here. And if he refuses to release you, then Ill get a writ and go to court.
Lisa stood up, picking up the pad on which she had taken a few notes and sticking it back into her briefcase. She shook Bennys hand and went to the door. The deputy opened it and escorted her through the set of locked doors back into the courthouse.
She walked purposefully up the stairs and though the halls, getting lost once, but finding her way back to the wide central hall of the main part of the courthouse. She wondered if the sheriff had led her the most confusing way on purpose.
Her heels clacked briskly on the old granite floors as she headed toward the sheriffs office. She was sure that everyone along the corridor would know that she was coming. She turned into the large outer office, where the secretary and two deputies were at their desks, seemingly busy about tasks, but she could feel their sideways glances as she marched through and into the inner office of the sheriff, not pausing or even glancing at his secretary for permission.
Mindful of the listening ears outside, she closed the door behind her. She didnt want the sheriffs employees to hear what she had to say to himnot out of any concern about embarrassing the sheriff, but because she was well aware that the knowledge that his people were listening would make it harder for the sheriff to back down and might result in his refusing to release Benny simply because of the loss of face.
Quinn Sutton rose from his seat behind the desk. Lisa was reminded all over again of how tall and overwhelmingly masculine the sheriff was. She quelled the involuntary response of her own body to that masculinity.
Ms. Mendoza. Sutton smiled in that cocky way that she found both profoundly irritating and annoyingly charming. Have a seat. He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.
This wont take long. Lisa was not about to let her guard down around this man, even to the extent of relaxing enough to sit. I just came here to tell you that I want my client released immediately. You know, and I know, that you arrested him on the flimsiest of pretexts and brought him down here, where you have been holding him without arraignment for two days now.
Well, yesterday was Sunday, he pointed out, and amusement lit his mahogany-brown eyes.
Lisas hand clenched tighter around the handle of her briefcase. Yes, and today was Monday, and you still didnt arraign him. You may find it amusing to hold a young man without reason for the weekend in the county jail, but I can assure you that I do not. First you stop him, no doubt doing a little racial profilingthen
Quinn grimaced. Oh, come on, dont go throwing around your big-city buzzwords in here. There was no racial profiling going on.
Then, Lisa plowed ahead, ignoring his words, you harass him, even though he had done nothing except have a broken taillight, making him get out of the car. You find an empty beer can in his car, which you had no right to search
I didnt search, Quinn responded tightly. It was in plain view on the floor. And it wasnt empty.
Oh, right, Lisa replied sarcastically. It had, what, maybe a teaspoon of liquid in it? On the basis of that, you hauled him down to the jail. When was the last time you took a kid to jail for an MIP instead of just writing him a citation?
Last weekend, he responded, crossing his arms across his chest. This isnt the big city, Miss Mendoza, and I take underage drinking seriously. My deputies and I dont write a drunken teenager a citation and turn him loose on the road. I find its pretty effective with an MIP or DUI to have them come down to the jail and spend a while waiting for their parents to pick them up.
Lisa hesitated, momentarily nonplussed by his response, then picked up on his last statement. Benny Hernandez has been here quite a bit longer than a while. Why werent his parents called to come pick him up?
Because his father skipped out before Benny was born, his mothers in San Antonio living with her new boyfriend and his stepfathers in prison in Huntsville.