There were so many things he wanted to say. “Remember how you prayed about Dwayne? That God would do something special in his life?”
“Yes.” Alicia hadn’t moved any closer to the door. She was so beautiful, but so hurt at the same time. “I’ll always remember.”
Wendell looked deep into her eyes. “Why don’t you pray that way for us?” He gently took hold of her hands. “That God will do something special. A miracle like He did for Dwayne. So we’ll know what’s next for us. Friendship or . . . something more.” He paused and his voice grew quieter. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to lose you again, Alicia.”
Uncertainty and love mixed in her expression. “I will. I’ll pray.” She stepped away and mouthed just one more word as she left. “Goodbye.”
That was it. She reached the door and she was gone.
Wendell wanted to run after her, take her in his arms and ask her to never leave. He wanted to tell her that he felt dizzy and whole and wonderful just being around her. But all he could do was let her go and face the tragedy of Dwayne’s death. That and do the same thing he’d told her to do.
Pray for God to give them a miracle.
• • •
THE STUDENTS TOOK the news hard, the way Wendell had figured they would. He canceled classes and allowed them to gather in either the cafeteria or the auditorium. Wherever they felt most able to process. The school district sent in three grief counselors.
But most of all help came from the kids in the Raise the Bar program. Across campus they talked with their peers and prayed with them. They spoke words of peace and love and healing, and they assured the kids who were most afraid that Dwayne was okay.
He was in heaven now.
Still, Dwayne’s death struck the students particularly hard. Several students from Raise the Bar came up to Wendell before he left for court. “Will the media talk about this?” a freshman girl asked. “Will people think things are the same around here? Like nothing good really happened.”
Much as they were devastated at the loss of their classmate, the students were nervous that this could mar the proof that the group was making a difference. Wendell wasn’t worried about it. He ran into Jordy on the way to his car.
His son hugged him. Wendell studied the boy. “How you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” The pain in Jordy’s eyes made him look five years older than yesterday. “I keep thinking if I’d been a little more serious. If I’d forced him not to go. I could’ve convinced him to just stay with me and go to the Halloween party.”
Wendell started to shake his head. “Son, you know that’s not—”
“I know . . .” Jordy placed his hand on Wendell’s shoulder. “I know it’s not my fault. I just . . . I wish I could’ve kept him here. That’s all.”
“Me, too.” Sometimes there were no answers.
“And you know what else?” Jordy’s lips lifted in the slightest smile. “I keep thinking about something. With or without the club, sadly Dwayne would still be gone. But now I’m sure he’s in heaven.”
Wendell knew it was true. But hearing the words from Jordy now gave them new meaning. The Raise the Bar club really was a matter of life or death. He’d been dealing all morning with kids who thought the club should’ve made a difference for Dwayne. If he was getting closer to Jesus he shouldn’t have gone to the gang fight.
But here . . . this was the truth. The club hadn’t saved Dwayne from getting shot. But his faith in Christ, the faith he’d learned and accepted at the meetings, had saved him from hell. Which could still be true for many of the kids at Hamilton High. The Raise the Bar club was a matter of life or death.
If not in this world, for the next.
“Son.” Wendell gave his boy another embrace. “You’ve given me something to take to my lawyer.”
The two said goodbye and fifteen minutes later, Wendell met up with Luke Baxter in the foyer of the court building. Wendell looked around as he walked inside. The place was beautiful. Complete with ornate columns and beveled window trim and ceilings that seemed to stretch up forever.
Luke was there, sitting on a bench against the back wall. He gave a serious nod and stood to greet Wendell. The two shook hands, and Luke spoke first. “I heard about your student. Dwayne Brown.” He hesitated. “So tough. I’m sorry.”
“Yes. Long day.” Wendell could still hear his son’s words. He managed a slight smile, picturing Dwayne in heaven. “That boy found Jesus at our club. He’s in heaven now.”
“Well.” Luke nodded. “If that’s not something worth fighting for, I don’t know what is.”
Wendell patted him on the back as they headed for the courtroom. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Luke had already gone over the details. There would be no hearing today, just jury selection. Dozens of potential jurors would be gathered in the courtroom. Others would be on hand in case they were needed.
Wendell would simply watch while Luke did his work. If Luke were a very great artist, then this was the part of the process where he gathered his paints. He had told Wendell he already knew what types of jurors he wanted on the panel. Now it was a matter of finding them.
Luke had already submitted questions, as had Eli Landsford. Wendell had done his research. According to the Indiana Rules of Court, section 47-D, questions must be submitted ahead of time. Questions Judge Wells would ask the entire panel of possible jurors.
The questions were pretty obvious. Landsford asked: Have you ever been a pastor or worked on the staff of a church? Or from Luke: Have you ever filed suit against a person or entity because of the First Amendment establishment clause?
General questions like that.
The more specific questions would come during the lawyer questioning, when each attorney would have three peremptory challenges—a chance to eliminate a juror for any reason whatsoever. Because it was a civil case they needed only six jurors and four alternates.
Once the judge finished, Wendell watched Luke ask the jury pool a number of questions, and Landsford did the same. Luke had said he was looking for average Americans with a sense of faith and family. Hardworking citizens who might be more likely to appreciate the benefit of the Raise the Bar club.
If Luke had his way, a majority of the jurors would be black—like Wendell. More sympathetic that way.
Landsford was clearly looking for a different type of juror. Single people living in the city, or married people with no children. At least it seemed that way based on the questions he was asking. He wanted people with liberal politics and an opposition to anything remotely Christian. People who didn’t own Bibles or better yet, found them offensive.
Halfway through the process, Landsford was still pacing in front of the jury, eyeing them like a caged tiger hungry for dinner. As if the jurors were somehow on trial.
“What is your church experience, Mr. Janson?” Landsford asked a man who seemed to be in his late forties.
“Not much church experience. Except when I was young.” The man looked uneasy in the hardback wooden chair provided for the occasion.
“What experience did you have when you were young?”
“My parents divorced. They said we kids didn’t have to go to church if we didn’t want to.” He shrugged. “We didn’t want to.”
Landsford looked at the judge. “Acceptable juror, Your Honor.”
Luke still had two peremptory challenges. He stood, confident. “The defense would like to challenge.”
“Let the record show, the defense has just one remaining challenge.” Judge Wells looked over her glasses at Luke. “Let’s finish this up, Mr. Baxter. Jury selection shouldn’t take all day.”
Wendell wasn’t a lawyer but he sensed the hostility Luke faced in this courtroom. The next six jurors seemed as opposed to Bible study and the Christian faith as Andy Nelson. Luke used his one remaining challenge, but after that there wasn’t much he could do to stop three of them from being placed on the jury.
Thirty minutes later
they had their jurors. Luke turned to Wendell. “It could be worse, but it’s not what I hoped for. It’ll be pretty split based on their answers today.”
“I wondered.” Wendell felt a ripple of concern. “We’ll just have to pray. God’s not surprised by anything that happened today.”
“True.” Luke smiled and shook Wendell’s hand. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow. We’ll go over everything regarding the trial.”
Wendell left the building with Luke. It wasn’t until he reached his car that he noticed someone standing by the driver’s side. His heart stopped when he saw her.
“Alicia.” She had a way of showing up when he least expected her and most needed her. “Why . . . what are you doing here?”
She lifted her face, the strength back in her eyes. “I’m tired of walking away from you.”
“Okay.” Wendell didn’t blink, didn’t turn away. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and waited.
“I don’t like how things ended this morning.” She took a step closer. “Today was jury selection. What sort of friend disappears when the stakes are this great?”
True, he wanted to say. But he remained silent.
“Forgive me, Wendell. I won’t turn my back on you again.” She reached for his hand. “Whatever happens after this trial, I’ll be your friend, at least. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was a start, a first step. Wendell wanted to say he still loved her. But for now this was enough. He pulled her slowly into his arms and held her. After a long moment, he stepped back and said the only thing he could think to say. “Thank you. For being here.”
Her eyes held the hint of sparkle. “Let’s get coffee. So you can tell me about jury selection.”
Alicia followed him to the coffee shop a mile from the courthouse. He checked his rearview mirror six times—just to be sure she was really behind him. So he would know this wasn’t something from a dream. An hour later, when they parted ways and he headed home to his kids, Wendell felt better about today’s jury selection and the trial ahead.
Not because the process would be any easier. Luke Baxter assured him that the next week would be the most difficult of all.
But because he had a friend to see him through it.
17
Luke and his family filed into the CKT children’s theater that Saturday night for the opening performance of Seussical the Musical. The play several of his nieces and nephews were in. He was keeping his word. Spending more time with his family and glad for it.
But today all Luke could think about was the case against Wendell Quinn.
“You look distracted.” Reagan leaned close to him and searched his face. “You’re thinking about the trial, aren’t you?”
“Trying not to be.” He kissed her cheek. “Sorry.”
Tommy was sitting next to Reagan. He opened his program and turned to them. “Who’s playing what parts again?”
Malin and Johnny listened, too, while Reagan explained it to them. “All of Aunt Kari and Uncle Ryan’s kids are in it. Jessie’s playing Horton—her biggest role ever.” Reagan looked at the program. “RJ and Annie are ensemble.” She pointed to a column of names. “Aunt Ashley and Uncle Landon have three in the show, too. Amy is a Bird Girl, and Devin is the mayor. Janessa is one of the Who townspeople.”
“I thought Maddie had a role.” Luke was still struggling to stay focused. His family and the rest of the Baxters had been looking forward to this night for months. He needed to at least try. “Is she in it?”
“She’s not in the cast.” Reagan put her arm around his shoulders. “Maddie’s an assistant director along with Bailey Flanigan.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s right. Maddie’s dating Bailey’s brother Connor.”
“Not anymore.” Reagan gave him a sad smile. “They’re on a break. Maddie told us that last time we were all together.”
“A break. Right.” Luke looked into Reagan’s eyes. “I remember how that felt.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips.
“Not much fun.”
“No.” He loved Reagan with everything in him. Loved the way they’d overcome every kind of struggle to get where they were today. The theater was filling up. Ashley and Landon and Cole took the seats in front of them. Cole had a friend with him, a pretty blond girl who looked head over heels for him.
Luke raised his brow at the pair and then at Reagan. “Something new?”
“I’ll have to ask Ashley.” Reagan put her finger to her lips. “Later.”
John and Elaine took the seats on the other side of Cole while Kari, Ryan, Brooke, Peter and Hayley filled out the row. After a few minutes, the theater went dark and the music began to play. Luke hadn’t seen Seussical before, but he loved the Dr. Seuss stories. He had read them to his kids when they were little.
The Cat in the Hat entered the stage and the show began. Even so Luke struggled to keep his attention on the musical. He still had no idea how he was going to win the case against Wendell Quinn. No idea how he was supposed to find a precedent that might help them.
God, I need a miracle. Show me which way to turn. Please. He sighed and reached for Reagan’s hand. His nieces and nephews did a wonderful job throughout the evening, but it wasn’t until the second act that one of the verses hit Luke differently than the others.
The line was simply this: Their whole world was saved by the smallest of all.
Luke let the words play over again in his mind. Lord, is there a message there for me? Could Wendell’s whole world be saved by the smallest of all?
Maybe the students would come through with something that might affect the jury. Luke wasn’t sure but it felt significant. Like God wanted him to pay particular attention to this part.
Not until the show was over and they were home in Indianapolis did the line finally make sense.
Luke walked into Tommy’s room to say goodnight, but the boy’s bed was empty. Tommy was fourteen that fall, and it was after midnight. But with church in the morning, normally their oldest son would be in bed by now.
A quick check of the other bedrooms didn’t turn up Tommy, either. Luke jogged down the stairs and found Reagan in the kitchen. “Where’s Tommy?”
“In your office.” She pointed to the glass doors on the small room just off the kitchen. “He’s been in there since we got home.”
Strange. Luke headed into the office, closed the door behind him and watched his oldest child. The boy was sitting at Luke’s desk, Wendell’s three presentation folders spread out before him.
Tommy looked up. “Hi, Dad.” A serious look filled his face. “I can’t stop thinking about your case. The one with the principal.”
“Right.” Luke moved slowly to the other chair, the one in the corner of the room. “I feel the same way.” He waited a moment. “So what are you reading?”
“I mean”—Tommy looked at the documents and then back at Luke—“it’s all super interesting. Having Bible study at the school has changed everything. Test scores, crime rates, all of it.”
Tommy sounded like a seasoned lawyer. Luke stifled a smile to keep things serious. The paperwork was private between him and his client. But Tommy’s interest was harmless. Besides, Luke loved that his son was intrigued by the case. “No question Principal Quinn’s plan worked.”
“Exactly.” Tommy pointed to the first folder. The one that contained Wendell’s research from two summers ago. “Wasn’t he just doing his job, Dad? I mean . . . did you read this?”
Suddenly Luke felt embarrassed. He needed precedent, not statistics and historical quotes, not Bible verses and anecdotes. How many times had Wendell asked him the same thing? “No . . . I’m going to, but . . . not yet.”
Tommy seemed unfazed. He opened the cover and read from one of the first few pages. “Listen to this. Here’s the job description Principal Quinn agreed to carry out when he was hired.” Tommy hesitated. “Establish a schoolwide vision of commitment to high standards and ensure the success of all students.” Tommy looked at
Luke. “Principal Quinn had tried everything else, right? Isn’t that what he told you?”
Luke smiled. Tommy must’ve been paying attention when Luke and Reagan had talked about the case the other night at dinner. “Yes.” Luke could see where Tommy was headed with this. “He’d tried everything else.”
“So then—if he wanted to do his job—he had to think of something else, right?”
“Right.” Luke’s heart raced. Tommy was only a freshman in high school. His dream of being a lawyer felt pretty solid right about now.
“So he tried a voluntary Bible study, and it worked.” Tommy picked up the second folder, the one with the research from the college student. “Which can only mean one thing.”
Luke waited. Tommy deserved his shot at making the case here.
“Principal Quinn was just doing his job. He was establishing a schoolwide vision of commitment to high standards, and he was offering at least one way to ensure the success of his students.”
Slowly Luke began to nod. “I really wanted precedent for this case. Something that would prove to the jury why this case might be an easy win for Mr. Quinn.”
“But, Dad . . .” Tommy smiled and handed Luke the first folder. “Sometimes you have to set precedent. Right? I mean . . . someone has to blaze the trail for everyone else. Plus, you have God on your side.”
Luke took Wendell’s presentation folder, amazed at the astuteness of his oldest son. “Well . . . you have a point.”
Tommy nodded. “I thought so.” He yawned and stood, pushing the desk chair in before walking over to Luke. “I’m headed to bed. Goodnight, Dad. Love you.”
“Goodnight.” A sense of bewilderment came over Luke. “Love you, Tommy.”
The boy seemed nonchalant as he made his way to the kitchen, kissed his mother and climbed the stairs. Like solving crazy difficult cases was a normal part of his Saturday night.
For a long time, Luke sat there in his office and stared at the folder in his hand. The one Wendell had wanted him to read all those days ago. This was a different take, for sure. Landsford would never expect Luke to come at the case from this angle. But it just might work.