“Sorry, Judge, but it’s going overboard to accuse my clients of killing a goat. Under our statutes killing a farm animal is a felony that carries a punishment of up to five years in jail. Do you really think Woody and Evan deserve five years in jail?”

Woody glared at him as if to say, “Why’d you bring that up?”

Evan looked at him as if to say, “Way to go, super lawyer.”

Judge Yeck looked at Mr. Tweel and asked, “Do you want these boys to go to jail?”

Mr. Tweel shot back, “Wouldn’t bother me.”

Judge Yeck looked at the Lambert brothers and asked, “Do your parents know about this?”

Both shook their heads emphatically. No. Evan said, “We’d like to keep this away from our parents. They have enough problems.”

Judge Yeck scribbled some notes on a legal pad. The courtroom was silent as everyone took a deep breath. Since Theo had been there many times, he knew the judge was looking for a compromise, and that he might appreciate some help. He said, “Judge, if you don’t mind, may I offer a suggestion?”

“Sure, Theo.”

“Well, it’s a bit extreme to talk about jail time. My clients are in school, and throwing them in jail doesn’t help anything. And since their parents are not involved and they don’t have any money to pay a fine, for trespassing, perhaps they could be sentenced to a few hours of labor on Mr. Tweel’s farm.”

Mr. Tweel blurted, “I don’t want ’em on my farm. My goats’ll never be the same.”

Theo looked at Woody, and, as instructed, he stood and said, “Mr. Tweel, my brother and I are very sorry for what happened. We were wrong to go onto your property, and we realize we’re guilty of trespassing. We were just having some fun and didn’t mean to do any harm. We apologize and we’d like to do whatever you want to make things right.”

Sincere apologies went a long way in Judge Yeck’s courtroom.

Mr. Tweel was really a nice man with a big heart. How could you raise fainting goats and not have a lighthearted view of the world? But he kept a grim face and stared at the floor. Woody sat down.

Judge Yeck looked at Mr. Tweel and asked, “How big is your farm?”

“Two hundred acres.”

“Well, I was raised on a farm, and I know that there’s always brush to be cleared and firewood to be cut. Surely you can find some hard labor for these boys, something far away from the goat pen.”

Mr. Tweel began nodding and almost smiled, as if he just thought of some nasty job on the farm he’d been neglecting for years. He said, “I suppose so.”

Judge Yeck said, “So here’s what we’ll do. I find both of you guilty of trespassing, but there will be no record of your conviction. Since you have no money I will not order you to pay a fine. Your sentence will be twenty hours of labor, each, on Mr. Tweel’s farm over the next month. If you fail to show up or fail to do what he tells you to do, then we’ll meet back here again and I will not be in a good mood. And stay away from the goats. Fair enough, Mr. Tweel?”

“I suppose.”

“Any questions, Theo?”

“No, sir.”

“All right. Next case.”

Theo awoke on Monday morning to the sounds of thunder and rain hitting his bedroom window. It was dark outside, too dark to be awake, but then he had slept little. He stared at the ceiling, lost in a world of heavy thinking, when he realized something was moving beside his bed. “All right,” he said, and moved over so Judge could crawl into the bed. Judge did not like thunder and felt safer under the covers than under the bed.

How would the bad weather affect the trial? Theo wasn’t sure. It might keep some spectators away, but that was doubtful. The courtroom would be packed. The town had talked of little else since the day Pete Duffy had been captured in DC.

Would Theo be in the courtroom? That was the big question. Mr. Mount had asked Mrs. Gladwell, the principal, if his class could attend the opening day, same as the last time, but the request had been denied. The boys had other classes, other obligations, and it wasn’t fair to allow one homeroom so much time out of school. This had really irritated Theo, and Mr. Mount as well, but there was nothing they could do.

The second murder trial of Pete Duffy was even bigger than the first. Why couldn’t Mrs. Gladwell understand this? The boys would learn far more in the courtroom than they would suffering through yet another day of Spanish or Chemistry. Once it became apparent that they could not attend as a group, Theo began scheming of ways to get himself excused from school. He had thought about getting sick again, and not just his usual hacking cough or upset stomach or fever caused by placing a hand towel on the furnace vent and then draping it across his forehead. None of those would work, mainly because his parents had seen them so often. He had Googled flu symptoms, and strep throat, and whooping cough, even appendicitis, but realized those afflictions were too serious to fake. Besides, his mother would insist that he stay in bed for days. He’d thought about appealing to Judge Henry Gantry, a close ally, and trying to convince him that he, Theo, was actually needed in the courtroom. Maybe he could be useful in some way. He had talked to Ike about a scheme whereby Ike would check him out of school to attend a funeral, but remembered that that trick had already been used. Finally, he had convinced Mr. Mount to intervene and write a request that Theo be allowed to watch the first day so he could report everything back to their Government class. Mrs. Gladwell had reluctantly said yes, but only if Theo’s parents agreed.

And that’s where he hit a wall. His parents were of the opinion that he had missed too many classes already. Usually they split; if one said yes the other said no, and vice versa. But this time they remained united and Theo, so far, had been unable to persuade them.

He could not imagine missing the trial.

The rain stopped and the sky began to lighten. He showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, studied his thick braces, and finally went downstairs for the final round of battle. His parents were at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. His father was dressed in his usual dark suit. His mother was still in her pajamas and bathrobe. The air seemed tense. Everybody said good morning, and Theo sat in a chair, waiting. They seemed not to notice him.

After a few awkward minutes, his mother said, “Aren’t you eating breakfast, Theo?”

“No,” he replied abruptly.

“And why not?”

“I’m on a hunger strike.”

His father shrugged, glanced at him with a quick grin, and returned to his newspaper. Starve if you want to, son.

“And why are you on a hunger strike?” his mother asked.

“Because you’re not being fair, and I don’t like the injustice of it.”

“We’ve had this discussion,” his father said without taking his eyes off the newspaper. Theo was often amazed at how much time his parents spent reading the local paper. Did Strattenburg really have so much fascinating news?

His mother said, “Injustice is a pretty strong word, Teddy.”

Theo replied, “Please don’t call me Teddy. I’m too old for that.” It sounded far too harsh and she looked at him sadly. His father shot him a hard look. A tense moment or two passed as Theo twiddled his thumbs and Judge looked up, obviously starving.

His father turned a page and finally asked, “And how long will this hunger strike last?”

“Until the trial is over.”

“And what about Judge? Have you discussed it with him?”

“Yes, we had a long talk,” Theo said. “He said he’d rather not take part.”

“That’s good to hear.” His father lowered the newspaper and looked at Theo. “So let me get this straight. Tonight we’re going to Robilio’s, your favorite Italian restaurant. And I’ll probably order either the spaghetti and meatballs or the ravioli stuffed with spinach and veal, after, of course, we start with mozzarella and roasted tomatoes. Your mom will probably get the seafood capellini, or maybe the grilled eggplant. They’ll serve us a basket of their famous garlic bread. We may even have their famous tiramisu for dessert. And the entire time you’ll be sitting there watching us eat, smelling the garlic bread, looking at trays of delicious food being hustled about by the waiters, and doing nothing but sipping from a glass of ice water. Is that what you’re telling us, Theo?”