“Me, too.” She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “Can I pray for you? Before I leave?”
Wendell’s heart felt light as a feather. The pressure and anxiety from earlier, completely gone. “Yes. Please.”
And so Alicia Harris—the woman who had been too afraid to stand by Wendell in any matter regarding faith—prayed for him. That God would go before him into the courtroom tomorrow and that the jury would hear Wendell’s heart. That victory would happen for Wendell and Hamilton High and the students who desperately needed the Bible study club.
“And I thank You for a strong, godly man like Wendell Quinn.” Alicia’s voice broke. “A man who believes the words of Alexander Hamilton. That you have to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.” She hesitated. “Thank You, God, that I’m not falling anymore. Help us to stand together this week and trust You. For whatever’s ahead. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Wendell smiled. “Well,” he stepped back and looked deep into her eyes, “your Bible reading is paying off.”
She gave him the sweetest look. “Isn’t that what it says in Scripture? The Word of God is alive and active. It changes you.”
He chuckled. “Indeed.” They walked together through the front door and out to her car, where he hugged her goodbye. He wanted to hold on, wanted the moment to linger. But he drew back quickly, so he wouldn’t kiss her. Tonight was about possibilities.
Possibilities that filled Wendell’s heart with happiness. Nothing more. Not yet.
Alicia was part of his life again. She wasn’t afraid. She believed in God with a faith that took his breath. Yes, tonight was about the best kind of possibilities.
And with God on his side, tomorrow would be, too.
Because with God, all things were possible.
• • •
ALICIA DIDN’T STOP smiling the whole ride home. She couldn’t guarantee things were headed toward a relationship with Wendell. But after tonight it sure felt that way. She replayed every moment, the way it felt to be surrounded by Wendell’s children while they cooked him dinner, and how her heart leapt when they circled up and prayed before eating.
Chatting over dinner and doing dishes together, helping the kids with homework. All of it made Alicia feel like she’d come home. Like there with Wendell and his family was just where she belonged.
Her heart was so full from the joy of it all, Alicia didn’t notice the car trailing her until she was almost to her condo. Years of dating Jack had taught her never to drive all the way home with a strange car behind her.
Tonight was no different.
She picked up her cell phone from the passenger seat and thought about calling Wendell. But first she needed to make sure she was actually being followed. Jack was out of her life now, so maybe she was only imagining it.
Alicia turned right at the next street and waited. The car behind her turned right, too. Her heart began to beat faster. Who would do this? How come she didn’t notice sooner? Had the person been following her ever since Wendell’s house? God . . . help me here. What’s happening?
At the end of the street, Alicia made a left on a busier road. The main thoroughfare to the freeway. Sure enough, the car behind her did the same thing. She swallowed hard. Should she call Wendell or 911? She was so busy glancing in her rearview mirror she almost rear-ended the car in front of her.
Don’t be afraid, Alicia. Whoever it is, they can’t hurt you. Then she remembered the plan she’d had before. When Jack would sometimes get out of hand. Drive to the nearest police station. Alicia made a right at the next intersection and watched her mirror. The car behind her turned right, also.
Which meant she had just one option. She stepped on the gas and drove straight for the police station, a few blocks away. As soon as she turned left into the parking lot, the car behind her sped off. It was dark that night, not much of a moon and no bright lights in front of the building.
But Alicia was almost sure she recognized the car. It looked like something Jack Renton had driven back when they were dating.
A shiver of fear splashed icy cold through Alicia’s veins. She pulled into a parking spot and sat in the car trembling. No need to go in if the car wasn’t there, right? Nothing to report. She waited five minutes, until she was sure the car following her was gone.
Then she drove to the other side of the parking lot and exited by way of another street. Don’t be afraid, Alicia. Don’t be afraid. She went out of her way to take the longest possible route home, until she was certain no one was tailing her.
God, please help me not to be afraid. She turned onto her street. From a good distance she could see there was no car in front of her house. No one waiting for her.
I am with you, My child. You are not alone.
Yes. Alicia felt herself relax. That was truth. God was with her now and always. She pulled into her garage and clicked the remote to shut the heavy door before getting out of her car. No need to call Wendell or the police or anyone else. God was with her.
The whole thing was probably nothing more than her imagination.
20
Other than the usual armed guards, Luke Baxter was the first person in the courtroom that day. The judge had given permission for the media to be present, and already network vans and trucks were setting up outside, getting their cameras and reporters ready for the start of the trial.
Luke was looking through his notes, going over his opening statement when the courtroom door opened. He glanced that way and saw the one person he’d truly hoped would be here today. The man who had been there for him ever since Luke was a little boy.
His father, John Baxter.
“Son.” His dad smiled and came closer. “I thought you could use a little support.”
“Dad.” Luke went to him and the two hugged. “You have no idea.”
“I can’t do much.” His father put his hands on Luke’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “But I’ll be sitting in that back corner praying.” He smiled. “I won’t stop.”
Luke was touched to his core. “I can’t believe you drove all this way.”
“One of my kids needs me, I’m there.” John winked at him. “That’s the Baxter way.”
“Yes, it is.” Luke motioned to the chair beside him. “Sit for a minute. We have time.”
The two faced each other and his dad looked at the stack of notes in front of Luke. “So . . . how are you going to win this thing?”
They hadn’t talked much about it since that first day, when Luke got the call that Wendell Quinn needed him. This would be good, explaining things to his father. Just the practice run-through Luke needed.
Luke opened the folder of notes in front of him. “Well . . . religious freedom cases are all about precedent. As you know.” He turned to the first page, the one that detailed his opening statement. “In this case precedent doesn’t work in our favor. So things will be a little unconventional.”
“I like it.” His dad smiled, even though his eyes remained serious, engaged. “The Baxters have always been a little unconventional.”
“True.” Luke laughed. Already he felt better about the drama ahead. Thirty minutes later, after he’d gone through his strategy for the day, Luke was more ready than ever. All because his dad loved him that much.
Cameramen were arriving, setting up and creating a buzz around them. Luke and his dad stood and hugged before his dad took his place in the back corner of the courtroom. Luke watched him go. His father looked great for his age. Fit and tanned, proof of the miles of walks he and Elaine took every day. His dad turned and held his hands together, raising them up a bit. Then he mouthed the words Luke knew he could count on. “I’ll be praying.”
An hour later the courtroom was packed. Wendell was seated next to Luke, and across the aisle Eli Landsford sat beside Andy Nelson. The man looked terrible. Gray complexion, his hair long and stringy, hanging in his face. Back stooped. Whatever private battle he’d been going through, Andy was losing.
Two minutes before the
trial was set to begin, Luke heard the courtroom door open again. Wendell turned and smiled, and Luke followed his gaze. A pretty black woman entered the courtroom. Whatever her relationship with Wendell, Luke was certain about this much: Wendell was thrilled to see her. She took one of the last seats and Judge Wells used her gavel to bring the courtroom to order.
Landsford gave his opening statement first, since he represented the plaintiff. He was dressed like a catalog model or a mafia pit boss. Luke saw him more as the latter. Pin-striped suit, shiny leather shoes, hair neatly styled. Just enough facial shadow to give off a dashing air as he strutted in front of the jury.
“This is a First Amendment case. Open and shut, really. Because the truth is, religious freedom cases are not difficult in today’s political landscape.” He smiled at the jurors like he was the best friend they never knew they had. “Certainly you all know that. And for that reason I apologize for wasting your time.”
Luke was on the edge of his seat. If Landsford pushed too far he would object. Luke didn’t want the jury’s first impression of him to be antagonistic. But if that was what it took, so be it. He would only let his opponent go so far before something would have to be done.
Landsford stopped pacing and smiled again. “What you absolutely must not do is let your emotions get the better of you in this case.” He looked over his shoulder at Wendell Quinn, then back to the jury. “Principal Quinn is a good man. A man intent on helping students, whatever that looks like.”
Great, Luke thought. He’s using my exact words.
“But you must not form an emotional connection with the matter at hand. The Constitution of the United States is not an emotional text, and neither is the First Amendment. This is a black-and-white document intent on protecting the freedoms allotted to each and every citizen.” He smiled. “So let’s not trivialize it by letting our sentiments rule our decisions. There’s too much at stake for that.”
The jury was hanging on every word. They might as well have been applauding Landsford. They were that caught up in what he was saying, that much in agreement. Luke could tell by the looks on their faces.
Landsford’s remarks took only a few minutes. He told them the trial shouldn’t take long. Open and shut. Find Wendell guilty. Close down the ridiculous after-school Bible study and they could all get on with more important matters.
Before he sat down, Landsford flashed his best smile at each of the jurors. “Thank you for your time.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I promise not to take up too much of it. For the sake of all of us.”
Luke gave a quick glance to his father as he stood. His dad didn’t say anything, didn’t flash any signals. He didn’t have to. His eyes said it all. He believed in Luke, and no one else in all the world could handle what was ahead the way Luke could. The look gave him strength.
With a greater determination than before, Luke faced the jury and stepped forward. “My name is Luke Baxter. Attorney for Wendell Quinn.”
He spoke deliberately, willing his words to come unrushed. Luke motioned to Landsford. “My esteemed colleague has already thanked you for your time. But let me reiterate that.” He looked at each of them, individually. “Your involvement in this case is priceless.” He paused. “Look at each other, at the people on either side of you.”
The jurors did as he asked.
“You are the reason we live in a free country. Justice looks like the group of you. People who love America. People this court believes in.” Luke pointed to the judge. “Long before you were chosen as jurors, Judge Wells could’ve decided this case. That was within her right.” He looked at Landsford. “If this case was as easy as Mr. Landsford makes it seem, then you wouldn’t be here.” He smiled. “The simple truth is we need you.”
Luke watched the jurors relax a little. A few of them leaned back in their seats. They were important. They were needed. Luke felt a surge of hope. So far, so good. “Mr. Landsford told you not to make an emotional decision in this case. I would agree with him. There is nothing emotional or flighty about defending the U.S. Constitution. About defending the First Amendment.” He took a step closer and dropped his voice a notch. “This is one of the most serious things you will ever do. Your decision in this trial will become part of history. A way to defend the groundwork of the founding fathers of this country . . . or a way to tear it down.”
In the corner of his eye he saw Landsford start to stand to object. But whatever protest was on the tip of his tongue, he must’ve changed his mind because he sat back down. Luke smiled at the jury. “So, thank you. Truly.”
He went on to explain that his client, the defendant in this case, was the much-loved principal at Hamilton High. “You might not be familiar with Hamilton High.” Luke needed this part to make an impact on the jury. “Hamilton is a school where things were so bad, the district considered shutting the place down. Shuttling kids across town by bus to avoid the carnage happening year in and year out.”
Luke went on to explain exactly how bad things were. In a few sentences he told the jurors about the murder rate and the gang violence and the low test scores. How Wendell Quinn did what he could. He brought in counselors and created Individualized Education Programs for the most at-risk students. And he tried new curriculum and kindness initiatives.
“But nothing worked.” Luke was pushing his luck here. The history of failed efforts at Hamilton was not truly part of the scope of the case. Religious freedom cases were typically cut and dried. No mention of motive was generally allowed.
But Landsford didn’t object, so Luke continued. “You can understand how Principal Quinn had reached the end of his options. How he was at a loss when it came to helping his students.
“And so Wendell Quinn started a voluntary program called Raise the Bar.” Luke smiled at the jurors again. “What a great idea, right? Take these students who were failing at every level and raise the bar. Something you or I might do to help high school kids.”
A few of the jurors nodded.
“Only instead of kind words or special academic considerations, the club involved reading the Bible and praying.” Luke didn’t want to spend much time on the fact. This was Wendell’s alleged crime, after all. “And wouldn’t you know it . . . Principal Quinn’s program worked.” Luke walked back to his table. “I have a folder here with all the ways the Raise the Bar club has helped the students at Hamilton High.” He opened the folder. “For instance—”
“Objection.” Landsford was on his feet. His smile remained, but his tone was ice cold. “Your Honor, Mr. Baxter knows better than to present evidence during his opening statement. We all have things to do, places to be. Mr. Baxter is merely dragging out the inevitable.”
Judge Wells clearly agreed. She cast Luke a look of disdain. “Sustained. Wrap it up, Mr. Baxter.”
Luke was fine with the reprimand. It was enough that the jury had seen the presentation folder, that they were aware facts supported the very real truth: Hamilton High was a better place because of the Bible study program. He nodded at the judge. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
Luke went on to talk about the establishment clause. He didn’t dwell on the details. Didn’t want to give the jury a reason to lose the emotion of his opening statement. Details would come later. Rather he summed it up by reminding the jury that the founding fathers never meant to have freedom from religion. But freedom of religion. Freedom to practice religion where it was so desired.
The way it was at Hamilton High.
Finally Luke turned again to the jury. “I have to tell you something, friends. Mr. Landsford is wrong about one thing. This trial won’t be quick.” Luke paused. “The truth is this trial might take more than a few days of your time.” Luke allowed a sense of indignation in his tone. A passion that hadn’t been there before. “Men and women have fought and died for the privilege we enjoy today, the privilege of meeting in this courtroom and deciding the fate of a man like Principal Quinn.
“Today, here in this courthouse, you
, my friends, are the heroes. Not because you stormed a beach or were deployed to the Middle East. But because you gave up your very valuable time in the quest for freedom.” Luke looked each of the jurors in the eyes once more. A few of them were nodding along. “Thank you for that. Thank you.”
Luke took his seat and waited. Never had he expected his opening statement to be so well received. His heart was beating out of his chest, but he couldn’t show it.
Landsford rose and called his first witness. Head of the Indianapolis Public Schools board, James Black. Again Landsford seemed intent on rushing through his questions. His attitude screamed indifference. As if he were merely going through the motions so he could get his friends, the jurors, home as soon as possible.
“Mr. Black, do you have a school policy prohibiting teachers or administrators from leading after-school Bible study programs?” Landsford glanced at the jury, as if the answer were painfully obvious.
But this time the answer seemed anything but obvious to James Black. The man hesitated and squirmed in his seat on the witness stand. He shot a quick look at Wendell Quinn and then back at Landsford. “No, sir. We . . . uh, we don’t have anything specifically written out.”
Landsford was as good an actor as any lawyer, but even he couldn’t hide his surprise. He checked the notes on his desk, clearly scrambling for a way to rebound. He tried again. “Okay, so you have nothing in writing, but would you say it’s against the intentions of the school board members for a teacher or administrator to lead an after-school Bible study group?”
Luke was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Innuendo.” Luke kept his tone pleasant. He gave a slight nod toward the judge. “Mr. Landsford couldn’t possibly speak for every single school board member.”
Luke could tell Judge Wells didn’t like the way this was going, but it seemed she had no choice here. The way Landsford had worded his question, Luke was well within his right to object. Landsford had set himself up to fail.
The judge cleared her throat. “Sustained.” She cast a disapproving look at Luke’s opponent. “The prosecution will limit questions to the scope of the witness’s knowledge.”