The Fight for Kidsboro (22 page)

In the meantime, Valerie had finished her rewrite. “Here you go. I rewrote that scene. You wanna hear it?”

“Sure,” Pete said, undoubtedly hoping it wouldn't be as good as his draft.

Valerie cleared her throat and read from the new script, “‘Rock, ever since I met you … garbage smells more disgusting … all men, other than you, seem more handsome … and muscles seem to be flabbier …'”

“All right, very funny,” Pete said. “But this is not a comedy.”

“There's where you're wrong, Pete. This
is
a comedy. This is the most hilarious thing I've ever been a part of. I look at this script and I cannot help but laugh my head off.”

This went on for several minutes until Nelson came running up to me with a piece of paper. “Look at this.” He handed me the paper and I quickly scanned it. “I'm being sued. For 100 starbills.”

“One hundred starbills?!”

“Ryan, if I lose this case … I'm ruined.”

7

THE TRIAL OF THE CENTURY

O
NE HUNDRED STARBILLS WAS RIDICULOUS
. There was no way that Nelson's “crime” was worth 100 starbills. That amount would ruin anyone.

Nelson tried to get his sister, Valerie, to represent him, but She was busy shooting the movie. Unfortunately, she was the best lawyer in town. The only other lawyer in town was Pete, who was also shooting the movie. So Nelson decided to be his own lawyer. No one had any idea who was going to represent Jake, the “victim.”

We found five people to be on the jury. None of them had seen the accident and four of them didn't even know Jake, so they seemed impartial.

The meeting hall was packed. Almost everyone who wasn't involved with the movie shoot was there. Before taking my seat, I stopped by Nelson's table. “Keep your head up. You can trust the judgment of the people of this town.”

“Will you testify for me?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Jake made a dramatic entrance into the courtroom. He was on crutches and had a splint on his leg. He groaned just loud enough for everyone to hear him and asked several members of the audience for assistance. I saw Nelson bury his head in his hands. But as bad as Jake's appearance was, things were about to get worse. Right behind Jake, to the horror of everyone there, was the person who was to be his lawyer—Max Darby. A gasp echoed under the roof as they came in together. The loudest gasp came from Nelson.

I didn't think Max's presence was so bad, though. Max was smart and he was mean, and that made him the tougher lawyer. But everyone knew Max was dishonest and cruel. I hoped the jury would keep his reputation in mind. Many of the jurors themselves had probably been swindled by Max at some point. But there was no telling what Max would say to tear down Nelson's character. Win or lose, Nelson would be hurt by this trial.

Judge Amy called court into session. Nelson was sitting alone at a table in the front. Max moved their table so that Jake could stick his leg out far enough for the jury to see the splint. When the jury entered, that was the first thing they all saw.

The judge asked Jake to tell everyone, in his own words, what happened. Jake told the whole story. He was walking home when the car came out of nowhere and he stepped on it. He fell down and pulled a ligament in his ankle. The judge asked how he knew it was ligament damage. Max submitted a copy of a real doctor's report. It stated that Jake should stay off his feet because he had pulled a ligament in his ankle. The judge had the jury pass the slip of paper around, and then moved on.

Judge Amy asked how much money the plaintiff (Jake) was asking for. Max told her that since the injury had prevented Jake from doing his job (he mowed lawns), Nelson should pay him 100 starbills for lost wages.

“One hundred starbills seems like a lot of money, Mr. Darby,” the judge said.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Max said in the over-dramatized Southern accent he saved for really important swindles. “But since my client is losing real wages, that is, real money from the real world, we thought 100 starbills, which is, well … pretend money … would be about the right amount.”

Judge Amy nodded her head, and then asked Nelson to begin. Nelson pleaded his case, telling everyone that he never had any intention to do anyone harm, and that it was a freak accident. Then he pointed out that if this had been a real car accident, it would be the fault of the driver, not the manufacturer of the car. I saw a juror nod, so I thought Nelson had made a good point.

Then Nelson called me to the stand. I talked about how I had been friends with Nelson for many years and that I would vouch for his good character. I told the jury that I believed he had only good intentions when he built those cars and that his business had been good for the city. Nelson smiled at me, and then told the judge he had no more questions for me.

I started to go back to my seat when Max suddenly said, “I'd like to cross-examine the witness.” What was he going to ask me?

I sat back down in the witness stand and nervously pushed my hair back off my forehead. Max stood up and approached me.

“Mr. Mayor, how long have you known Nelson Swanson?”

“About four years.”

“And from what you've seen, what does he do with most of his time?”

“Well … he's always building things or coming up with new ideas …”

“So, he's an inventor?”

“Yes.”

“I declare. Quite a noble profession,” he said. “Besides the cars, what else has Nelson invented?”

“Um … lots of things. He made a burglar alarm, um … an air hockey table, an automatic soccer ball kicker—so goalies could practice keeping goal.”

“Go on.”

“Well, a couple of smaller things … a self-heating frying pan …”

“Self-heating frying pan? Now that sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, he made it for Sid so he could sell egg and cheese sandwiches in the bakery.”

“Mmm. Sounds good.”

“It was battery-operated. You didn't need a stove.”

“A marvel of technology. Tell me, how long did it take Nelson to make it?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe two months or so.”

“Why'd it take so long?”

“He's kind of a perfectionist. It had to be perfect.”

“But what was wrong with the first model?”

“The first model?”

“The very first time he tried this self-heating frying pan, did it not work?”

“I guess … not the very
first
time.”

“What was wrong with it?”

I had no idea where he was going with this, but I figured I should tell the truth as I knew it to be. “I don't know. He could tell you better than I can.”

“What happened when he first tried it out?”

I thought about it a second, then I remembered. Suddenly, I knew exactly where Max was going with this. I didn't see how I could avoid admitting something that would be damaging to Nelson's case. I decided to stall. “It … didn't work perfectly.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The, um … wiring was a little off …”

“And what happened as a result of the bad wiring?”

“It … malfunctioned.”

“How?”

“By … not working correctly.”

He was getting impatient. “Mr. Mayor, isn't it true that the frying pan caught on
fire
in his house?”

“I seem to recall—”

“Mr. Mayor, you are under oath! Did it catch on fire?”

“It was just a small fire … and we put it out with an extinguisher.”

“Nelson has a fire extinguisher in his house?”

“Yes.”

“So apparently this happens to Nelson a lot, huh?”

“I wouldn't say that—”

“Wouldn't you agree that a person who has a fire extinguisher in his house does so because there might be a fire?”

“Oh, come on, Max—”

“Let's go back to the soccer ball kicker. Isn't it true, Mr. Mayor, that the first version of this invention nearly kicked Scott Sanchez's kneecap off?”

“It wasn't that bad.”

“Did Scott Sanchez have to go to the doctor because of it?”

“It was Scott's fault—”

He started shouting. “Did Scott Sanchez have to have medical treatment done to his knee because of an invention that Nelson Swanson created, or not?”

He had me. I had no choice. “Yes.”

“So, Mr. Mayor, is it fair to say that Nelson Swanson has a history of creating dangerous products?”

Nelson shouted from his chair, “Objection!”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Max said before the judge could answer the objection. All he wanted to do was get the jury thinking that Nelson was dangerous. And he was probably doing a good job of it. I stepped down and gave Nelson an “I'm sorry” look. He didn't respond because he appeared to be thinking up a new strategy.

“Nelson, do you have any more witnesses?” the judge asked.

“Yes,” Nelson said. Nelson called a boy named Charlie to the witness stand.

“Charlie, is this your remote-controlled car?” Nelson held up the car that Jake had tripped on. It still had a crushed windshield.

“Yes.”

“Were you operating the car on the day that Jake tripped on it?”

“No.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was working on the movie shoot all day—holding a microphone.”

“So, Charlie, did you loan your car to anyone?”

“No.”

“Did you pre-program the car to operate at that specific time of day?”

“No.”

“So, who was controlling the car?”

“I don't know.”

“Did any of your friends have access to the car?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you think someone stole your car?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Isn't it a possibility that someone might've stolen your car, used it to stage a fake fall in order to sue—”

Max exploded out of his chair. “Objection! He's leading the witness.”

“Sustained,” Judge Amy said without hesitation.

“No more questions, Your Honor.” Brilliant. Just as Max had done minutes earlier, Nelson had planted a seed of doubt in the jury's minds. Was all of this some kind of hoax? No one knew who had been operating the car. Surely this missing bit of information was crucial.

Max had no questions for Charlie, so Nelson continued. “I would like to call Eugene Meltsner to the stand.”

Max objected to Nelson calling an adult, stating that because This was a kids' town, adults had no business interfering in the affairs of Kidsboro. Judge Amy overruled him, since one of his pieces of evidence, the doctor's slip, was signed by an adult. Amy was a fine judge.

Eugene stepped to the stand. Reverend Joey was working as the bailiff. He asked Eugene, “Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“Indeed I do,” he replied.

Nelson said, “Mr. Meltsner, you helped me build those cars. In your expert opinion, is there anything unsafe about them?”

“Undoubtedly, there are dangers inherent in any man-made mechanism, but I would consider these to be slight in the models created by Nelson Motors.”

Confused silence settled upon the audience. Nelson noticed. “And that means?”

“No.”

Eugene's testimony went on endlessly, somehow transforming every one-sentence answer into a four- or five-sentence answer. Finally, he was finished.

“The defense rests for now,” Nelson said.

“All right, then. Max, do you have any witnesses?” Judge Amy inquired.

“I do, Your Honor.” He called Nelson to the stand and asked him one question. “How much money did you make this summer, Mr. Swanson?” Nelson immediately objected, but for some reason, Judge Amy allowed it.

“About 125 starbills. But most of that went back into my company.”

“No further questions.” I couldn't believe Judge Amy would allow a ploy to get the jury to think, “Let's get the rich guy.” It was a despicable strategy on Max's part, but it would probably work.