ChapterSixteen
To watch Susan Sheridan Frampton in action was better than any legal crime thriller. With her front seat to the action in the Sheridan Law Offices, Elsa was captivated as Susan worked diligently after her interview with Brodie, examining the Thomkins family and producing evidence that suggested that, in fact, Brodie hadn’t been anywhere near the Remington House that night at all. There was CCTV footage outside the milkshake place, which captured him exiting at the approximate time he’d suggested he’d been there. A neighbor had spotted him in the backyard of his parents’ place, tossing a football with two of his younger brothers. Plus, when interviewed, all of his younger siblings’ teachers maintained that their students had finished their homework assignments for the following week’s summer school, which indicated that Brodie had been around. “He always cares for his siblings,” one teacher said. “He wouldn’t do anything to put his family in jeopardy.”
Elsa knew that Mallory ached to be in court that afternoon, to see the proceedings. Because she’d been the one to discover the ring, she was seated outside the courthouse, anxiously awaiting Elsa’s description of what occurred.
When Elsa had asked Mallory if she thought Brodie was “actually innocent,” even after she’d found the ring at his house, Mallory had said she was no longer sure. “There’s enough evidence to create a reasonable doubt,” she’d told Elsa simply, surprising Elsa with how logical she sounded, how lawyer-like.
To this, Elsa had reiterated, “He had your grandfather’s ring on his bedside table.” Elsa had felt enraged. But the urgency in her daughter’s voice had led her here, to the court room.
Susan presented her case to the judge on Friday, July 22nd. As Elsa headed to her designated seat in the back, her legs bounced around anxiously. It was true what Bruce had said. She didn’t want this young man to go to prison for the rest of his life. All of her family memorabilia didn’t equate to the worth of a single human life.
The judge in the small Oak Bluffs courtroom was a long-jowled man in his mid-sixties.How many cases had he “judged”?Hundreds, probably. Maybe even thousands. He greeted Susan formally and then turned his head to nod to the prosecutor handling the case, a woman with a blonde bob and a heinous orange lipstick. Beside Susan, Brodie sat in an ill-fitting suit, his hair recently chopped clean.
The prosecutor began the proceedings. She walked back and forth in the small square of tiled space in front of the judge, outlining what they now knew. According to Susan, this was meant to be a preliminary hearing, with the prosecutor hopeful they could push the case into Boston, where they’d have an actual jury.
“Brodie Thomkins was a troubled kid in school,” the prosecutor began. “Not one of the students that excelled. Not one of the jocks or a musical student. Not someone with a lot of friends or great big goals for his life.”
Elsa’s stomach curdled.How cruel could this woman be?
“Especially on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, it can be a really difficult thing to watch your peers living their summers on yachts and sailboats while you have to scoop ice cream at the local Frosty Freeze,” the prosecutor continued. “It’s not difficult to imagine that you’d be filled with anger, jealousy, and a little bit of greed. We all know that Brodie Thomkins was discovered with one item from the Remington House robbery. He hasn’t confessed as to where he got this ring, casting himself in an even greater shadow of guilt. What’s more, we know that the Thomkins family isn’t exactly a group with a crystal-clear backstory. Their records are filled with countless incidents, misdemeanors and robberies and tax evasions. It’s not such a stretch that Brodie would involve himself with such money-making tactics.”
The prosecutor continued, noting Brodie’s parents’ place and its proximity to the Remington House and again pointing out the criminal undertakings of his family members. She finished by proclaiming that this case was “meant for a bigger courtroom” and required a jury of Brodie’s peers to make an assessment.
After that, Susan stood for her opening statement. Unlike the prosecutor, her lipstick was a perfectly chosen soft red, business-like yet fashionable.
“Good afternoon,” Susan began, placing the tips of her fingers together. “We’ve gathered today to discuss Brodie Thomkins and the question of his innocence. In my opinion, the prosecutor outlined a number of accusations that have absolutely no basis in proof. Yes, Brodie Thomkins struggled in school. A lot of us did. Yes, Brodie Thomkins comes from a family who struggles with money. A lot of us did. It’s difficult to pinpoint Brodie Thomkins’ positioning at the exact time of the robbery at the Remington House. That’s true. The fact that each and every one of his siblings says that he spent the night at their place and awoke early to help his younger sister get to Boston? It doesn’t mean a whole lot, either. What we need here is proof. Absolute proof. Over the course of this hopefully brief trial, I will outline the proof I have for you, which creates reasonable doubt. Brodie was not at the Remington House that night. He was not involved in this crime. Perhaps, as the prosecution suggested, he was related to members who were involved in this crime. But Brodie cannot and will not serve prison time for his family members. We don’t live in that sort of society.”
Throughout Susan’s soliloquy, Elsa sat transfixed, her eyes on Brodie. According to Mallory, who’d let several things slip, he’d often struggled to put food on the table for his siblings. He’d played football in the backyard and made sure they’d done their homework.What kind of man was that? A good one, certainly. If a misguided one.
The proceedings continued. The prosecution had very little to go on besides the ring and Brodie’s “bad family” and “bad grades.” When Susan stood, she wore a little smirk on her lips, proof she had it in the bag.
Susan called several people to the stand to discuss Brodie’s stellar relationship with his siblings, what an excellent employee he was at the restaurant, and the fact that he gave at least half of his paycheck every month to his family. These same “witnesses” also discussed the Thomkins’ family’s tendency for criminality, all suggesting that perhaps Brodie had discovered the ring at his family’s house, taken it, and then not wanted to confess when he discovered that it was a stolen item.
When Susan pulled out her final evidence, which showed Brodie on CCTV footage next to the gas station the morning after the robbery, handing a large coffee to his sister a little while before he went to the ferry, it seemed pretty much in the bag. Every single thing Brodie had said about his whereabouts had been true. People had stood up for his character. It was written all over the judge’s face:The Thomkins family was responsible for this. I won’t let the eldest son take the fall.
The judge greeted Brodie unceremoniously, without a smile. “Brodie Thomkins. Because you have decided to withhold information regarding a stolen item, this case is a particularly funny one. To me, you do not seem like a criminal. You seem like a typical young man on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, trying to pave your own way. I’m not sure if I fully understand why you want to protect whoever it is you’re protecting, but I can say that I have a modicum of respect for it. If we don’t have our family, what do we have? That said, I cannot let you off without punishment. Two hundred hours of community service, to be completed over the following two years. You are dismissed.”
Susan gripped Brodie’s shoulder and wagged it back and forth, congratulating him. Elsa got to her feet, eyeing the prosecution. The blonde woman bent her head to whisper to another man in a suit, probably about their plan of attack toward the Thomkins family. Brodie stood, nodding toward Susan, his face scrunched and troubled.
Elsa’s stomach twisted with a mix of so many different emotions. She remained statuesque as Brodie marched away from her, out of the courtroom and into the bright sunlight of a summer’s day.