The drive across town took them about thirty minutes and Bill followed closely behind the trooper's car. He wasn't at all surprised to see a sheriff's patrol car in his rear view mirror, but at least the deputy kept a good distance between them. Barnes may not have been at the jail but he was certainly aware of the proceedings.

Why had Stan been in such favor with the Sheriff? That question had been nagging Bill for hours. What was Barnes protecting? It didn't seem reasonable that an ex-con who attacked little girls would get protection from the Sheriff just because they were cousins. Something else had been going on.

The front gates of Barnhill quickly approached and the police car slowed for the turn. The Institute was surrounded by a high stone wall topped with razor wire. Bill could only imagine what Tim was thinking as he saw the security measures of his new residence. A guard stepped out of his little security station as Mills stopped the car.

There was little conversation which meant the security staff was expecting them. The outer gate opened and Mills drove in. As Bill approached the guard he was waved on and saw the gate close behind them. There was a solid stretch of heavy chain link fencing around them here and then an inner gate opened to the grounds of the Institute.

A vast swath of green fronted the old mansion with a circular asphalt driveway that led up to the front doors and the staff parking area. But Mills had been here before and he pulled around the side of the building to another guard post and stopped. Bill slid into a visitor's slot beside the building as Connors got out of the car and opened the rear door for Tim.

In a surprise gesture Connor's removed the handcuffs on the boy and then shook his hand. Bill walked up just as they completed the polite ritual.

"I just finished telling Tim that Barnhill is a secure facility but the staff will treat him like a human being," Connors said. "If he behaves and follows the rules this place will do his case a lot of good."

"Thank you, Sergeant. I think we'll be good from here on in," Bill said.

Connors reached in his shirt pocket and handed Bill a business card. "You have any further troubles with your case just give me a call. My cell phone number is on the back if it's after hours."

They shook hands and Connors handed the guard the transfer papers before returning to the unmarked police car. Mills gave Bill a wave and they drove back down towards the gates. Bill looked at the card and slid it in his wallet. Never turn down a helping hand, especially when it wore a uniform.

"This isn't a county facility, Tim," Bill said. "Barnhill is run by a private company owned by doctors and is chartered by the state. Come on, let's sign you in."

The guard led them over to a rear door and stopped, looking up at a television camera affixed to the wall.

"Intake. Witherspoon, Timothy A.," the guard said into the microphone clipped to his jacket. "And one legal visitor."

The lock on the steel door snapped open and the guard held the door. "Second door on the right, gentlemen," and he led them inside.

They entered a long hallway lined with cinder block walls painted a warm gray color with dark blue trim. The overhead lighting was institutional fluorescent but the fixtures looked modern. Bill had never been down here before but he knew they were in the basement of the old mansion, and there over the second door was a sign that said Intake.

The guard entered the open doorway and handed the transfer order to a woman sitting behind a desk on the right. The only other person in the office was a man who smiled when they entered. The guard gave Bill a nod and walked out.

"Mr. Witherspoon…can I call you Tim?" The woman asked.

"That would be nice," Tim replied.

"I'm Veronica, the admissions clerk. Bobby over there will take you through into the locker room where you can shower and get rid of that awful jail uniform. The medical staff here wears the same clothing as the patients, we just use color as a means of identifying who we are.

"Since you're here for evaluation you'll get a green outfit pretty much like what a surgeon wears in a hospital. You will be given a change of clothing every morning since we are focused on everyone looking clean and healthy.

"We'll assign you to a private room for the first weeks of your stay during the evaluation period. But if all goes well then we'll move you to the juvenile dorm where you can mingle with the other boys and share in the social activities. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tim said.

"Veronica…my mother is a Ma'am…okay? So let's get you going because dinner is about to be served and I know our menu is much better than that county jail. Bobby?"

"Thank you, Veronica," Tim said, and turned towards Bill. "Will you be around after they get finished with me?"

"I have to meet with Dr. Moore and then I'll come find you," Bill said.

Bobby led Tim to a door labeled Men's locker room and the boy was gone. Bill gave a sigh and turned back to Veronica.

"Thank you, he seems relaxed now."

"It will take him a few days to settle down," She said. "As you can imagine the medical staff will be watching him like a hawk. Dr. Moore's office is on the second floor, but you need to stop in the lobby for a visitor's badge before you go up. I'll put you in the elevator."

Veronica led Bill back out in the hallway and about thirty paces further into the building where they encountered an elevator door. There were no buttons to push only an intercom box and the ever present camera looking down on them. She pushed a button on the intercom and a few seconds later a voice said "Control."

"Legal visitor from Intake to Front Lobby," Veronica said. A moment later there was a ding and the elevator doors slid open. "Have a good evening, Mr. Metzger," she said.

Bill stepped into the elevator and thanked her again as the door slowly closed. The ride took all of seven seconds before another ding announced his arrival on the first floor. Bill gave the staff behind the reception desk his name, presented his courthouse ID card and was given a visitor's badge. The public elevator had buttons and Bill was soon on the second floor and headed down the hall to Evan's office.

The door was open when he arrived and stuck his head inside. "Knock, Knock," Bill said.

"Ahh, there you are," Evan said. "Did the transfer go smoothly?"

"After the SWAT team showed up…" And Bill went on to explain the little scene at the jail.

Evan laughed. "What temerity our deputies have, but we both know the source of their ignorance. Have you eaten?"

"No, I just wanted to be sure Tim got here in time to eat."

"Oh he will, have no fear. Mealtime is one of the things our patients can depend on, it keeps them calm. But we always have a little supper buffet down the hall for those of us on duty, would you like to eat?"

"I'm not very hungry, I had a late lunch," Bill said.

"Then perhaps a salad," Evan said. "This will give you the chance to see what we feed the hungry masses."

The small buffet was indeed filled with delightful choices. Staff and patients ate the same food so the kitchen prepared it well. Bill took a mixed salad while Evan helped himself to the vegetarian offerings. They chose a table by the windows looking out on the gardens below and settled in.

"Besides running a standard battery of tests on the boy are there any issues that have come up during your investigation?' Evan asked.

"The arrest report makes no mention of a urine or blood test which would have detected the presence of drugs in Tim's system. He tells me the step-father, or this person the police have erroneously identified as the step-father, forced him to take drugs before the sexual assaults."

"Poor investigative techniques," Evan said.

"Yes, but the Sheriff must have known his cousin was involved in drugs. Some things we're discovering are beginning to look like a cover up and I don't know why."

"We can do the physical tests but the time factor is against us. Blood might show traces, but a hair sample would be best." Evan sighed. "I guess we're all this kid has…are there no other relatives?"

"I don't have an answer to that, perhaps he'll tell you," Bill said. "I haven't delved too deep because I didn't want to spoil his candid answers to your questions. But he seems to lack much of an emotional response to his actions."

"That would be normal in an abused child. There's bound to be a lot of pent up anger for what they did to him. Emotional withdrawal has allowed him to survive the experience. We have a group here, boys who have experienced some of the same issues and acted out to escape that situation. Tim may find an emotional outlet in a setting like that."

"You have other boys who killed their parents?"

"No, Tim is the only one. But several others might have wished they could have killed an adult to stop the abuse. I'll ask him if he wants to participate. I'm not sure how much therapeutic good we can do for the boy right now. The pressure of a trial in his future will create a lot of tension, and we still don't know all the details."

"Whatever you can find out will be appreciated, Evan. He comes across as a good kid caught up in a bad situation. How long can you keep him here?" Bill asked.

"It depends on him. I don't think a judge will risk censure by removing him from medical care. We doctors do have some power in the courts. The Sheriff is not an issue because he can't trespass here and he knows it. He seems to be the weak link in the prosecution of Tim's case, that's where you need to focus."

"And we will," Bill said. "I think Tim is going to be very cooperative, especially if he gets to eat this well. Perhaps I better go see if he's settled in…are you coming with me?"

"Sure, it would be best if you introduce me since he trusts you. I hate the clinical approach to doctor-patient meetings," Evan said.

"So he'll have a private room, cell, whatever you call it."

"Room, this isn't a jail. But he will be situated on a secure corridor with staff observation twenty-four hours a day. At first his door will be locked at night. He will learn that is as much for his own security as ours, at least until we get to know him. But rooms have their own bathroom with a toilet and shower, it doesn't feel too confining."

Evan led the way down the hallway back towards his office and beyond, turning the corner towards the rear of the building and descending a set of steps. Bill could see unobtrusive cameras located in key positions as they approached what must be the secure zone.

"Lots of security," Bill said.

"Yes, we have a dozen people on the security staff. They monitor movement in corridors and meeting rooms but they are not encouraged to listen in on conversations. It's a delicate balance between medical necessity and security needs. But they have proven invaluable at certain times because like any confining institution we do have patients who try to overcome the system and escape."

"Any of them succeed?" Bill asked.

"One or two, but they never left the grounds. Most of our patients don't want to leave, they feel secure here. But those who try to get out are usually suffering some psychotic episode which makes them desperate and they lose self-control. Psychiatry is not an exact science, we can't predict the behaviors of every person in our care, but we try."

Evan swiped a pass card on a locked steel door and they walked through into a lobby. There was a glass enclosed booth on one side and several staff members sitting at computer consoles.

"This is our central control station," Evan said, and led Bill towards another door. "This is our juvenile wing. A self-contained unit with housing, dining hall and recreation facilities. I imagine dinner time is over so we'll go look for Tim in his room."

The door opened to reveal a broad hallway with multiple doors on either side. The walls were brightly colored and even the floor tiles displayed a graphic design to make it attractive. Bill decided this looked a lot like a modern school environment, something the kids could identify.

There was an unmanned desk in an alcove part way down the hall and Evan examined a bulletin board behind the desk. "Witherspoon, 12A," he said.

Bill noticed the board had a lot of empty slots. "Doesn't look like you're too full at the moment."

"They come and go," Evan said. "We don't like keeping the young ones here for a great length of time."

"Where do they go?" Bill asked.

"Sometimes it's private facilities for long term care or they are remanded to other state facilities. The lucky ones get to go home," Evan said, and then he paused. "Have you thought about what Tim might do if he's found not guilty?"

"You mean where would he go? I haven't begun to think about that…it doesn't seem possible."

The door to 12A was open and Tim was inside with a staff member making the bed. The woman was attractive and Bill wondered how she managed with all these teenagers around her filled with adolescent hormones. A second glance showed him that she had muscles like a bodybuilder, and then she looked up with a smile.

"Dr. Moore, how nice to see you," She said.

"Janet…how is our newest resident getting along?"

Tim looked up and smiled when he saw Bill in the doorway.

"She's teaching me how to make a bed military style," Tim said. "It seems I can earn points for doing it tight and right."

Janet stood back and examined the results. "Well done, Tim…two points which is very good for a beginner."

"She's a tough grader I hear," Evan said.

"Well I'll leave you gentlemen to your business," Janet said.

"Thank you, Ms. Beatty," Tim said.

"You're welcome, sweetie. You know where I am if you need anything." And with that she left.

Bill had made a quick study of the room and determined this was nothing like a cell. Except for the cinder block walls, this could have been a boy's bedroom in most houses. The light blue paint made the room seem large and warm. The louvered blinds on the widow allowed in a good deal of natural light and revealed there were no bars beyond the glass.

A door on one side must lead to the bathroom and beside it was a closet which stood open to reveal another set of green scrubs like the ones Tim was now wearing. There was a desk with a reading lamp, two chairs and a wastebasket. But the desktop was empty, no books, and Bill knew they would have to solve that problem.

"Tim, this is Dr. Moore," Bill said. "We're old friends and when your case came up I knew we needed to have him on our side."

"Hello, Sir," Tim said and held out his hand. Evan shook the hand warmly and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"We're not here to talk about your troubles, not tonight. I just wanted to see that you get settled in. Did you get some dinner?"

"Yes, the food is great, and I met some of the other guys. A pretty quiet bunch you have here."

"I agree," Evan said. "Do you need anything?"

"Ms. Beatty said I could look in the library for a book to read," Tim said. "I don't suppose you have any Stephen King?"

"Probably not. I'm afraid his stories might cause anxiety in some of our residents. But there are some good volumes in there…I selected a lot of them myself."

"Are you the head doctor here?" Tim asked.

"Clinically speaking I am, but I have an administrative boss. Barnhill was formed by a group of doctors who saw a need for a good mental health facility here in our corner of the state."

"There was a naked guy standing in the window of his room over in that next building," Tim said. "I told Ms. Beatty and she seemed to know who it is."

"Did you find that disturbing?" Evan asked.

"No, just weird. I guess he's one of your bad patients with some pretty severe problems."

"That would be correct. Nudity is not encouraged as you might guess. It won't earn him any points."

"So when do we talk about my problems?" Tim asked.

"Why don't we begin talking tomorrow? We'll be giving you a thorough physical in the morning and then we can begin talking about what happened to you. Our sessions will be private at first and then later on I think we need to include your lawyer as we start to think towards building a defensive posture.

"Now tomorrow afternoon we will be holding our group session to which you are invited. I want you to attend although I don't think you'll feel comfortable saying anything for the moment. The dynamics of a group are important because they allow you to get feedback from your peers and I get to study your abilities to socialize.

"If that sounds complicated…well, it's not. You'll see that of the dozen boys we have here now that some of them are withdrawn and won't talk about their issues while others do nothing but talk. Your situation is unique among them and so I think you should just listen for a while.

"But much of our discussion is about the social problems any normal teenager might have. You will be free to comment, agree or disagree with the others. Language is an important means of communication so we don't encourage curse words, and aggressive behavior is strictly forbidden. But we do have some good laughs here and there."

Bill thought Tim might find the group an interesting part of his stay here. If he did decide to speak about his case in front of the others there was no legal risk. Medical records like this were bound by client privilege just as they were between lawyer and client.

But he also knew this was all part of the diagnostic tools Evan used and that ought to prove interesting, if he found out what went on, which he wouldn't unless Tim told him. The evaluation would take weeks and Evan would issue a report. The details of what led up to that document would be sealed in a veil of medical secrecy not even the law could penetrate.

"Okay," Tim said, "I could use a laugh."

"Good…so we're done for the evening," Evan said. "Why don't you go find Janet and get yourself a good book to read? It's been a long day for you. Come to think of it, we've all had a long day."

"Thank you, Dr. Moore," Tim said, and then he turned to Bill. "I don't know what I would do without you guys." And then without warning he gave Bill a hug. It was the most emotional moment he had ever shared with the boy, and so completely unexpected. Bill rubbed Tim's back and gave him a final squeeze.

"Thank you, Tim," Bill said. "You won't see me for a few days, but then Dr. Moore will be keeping you busy. You can always reach me at the office if you need anything. I'll come by on Friday and see how things are going."

"Everything is fine now," Tim said. "This doesn't feel like a jail at all. It's more like a boarding school I guess."

"You have a good night and I'll see you in the morning," Evan said.

Tim remained in the room as they walked back down the hall towards the exit door. Evan produced his key card and Bill looked up at the ever present camera eye. Instead of heading back to his office, Evan turned left and led them to a heavy glass door, swiped his card once again and they stepped out into the evening air.

Bill breathed deep and stared out at the mountains in the distance.

"Sometimes it's like coming up from underwater," Evan said, noticing Bill's reaction. "I feel like that when I've been inside the building all day long. We have an outdoor enclosure for basketball and there's a small track for running. I encourage the boys to get out and release all that pent up energy…it's good for us as well."

"How will the others react when they discover why Tim is in here?" Bill asked.

"I don't know the answer to that. It will be important to see how Tim reacts to their issues. He's the only one who has killed for the moment, but not all of them are criminals in that sense."

"I wonder why he hugged me."

"He needed that release. You're now the adult authority figure in his life and he's grateful. But he doesn't know about you, does he?" Evan said.

"No, it's not relevant, it might make him anxious and you know that's not a good thing after what that awful man did to him."

"There are things far worse than having a lawyer who's gay, Bill. I have a feeling he may have some latent tendencies in that direction."

"What? How could you possibly…what makes you think that?"

Evan smiled. "Just experience, it's only a feeling at the moment."

"That would be incredibly sad after what happened to him," Bill said.

"I agree. Sexual feelings at that age need to be developed in the proper forum. Tim should have been able to encounter other boys with similar feelings. The rapes only confuse the issue…but we'll have a chance to explore these things."

"I hope he isn't gay," Bill said, "He's got enough pressure on him now."

"Do you remember why you opened up to me about your sexuality?" Evan asked.

"Yes, Sebastian murdered that gay man and I didn't think I could defend him with a good conscience. He was a real bastard."

"But you did defend him and worked very hard on that case."

"We lost as I remember."

"No fault of yours as I recall. Two witnesses and the DNA didn't lie. But the Grand Jury didn't accept the hate crimes angle and that upset you. As his defense lawyer you should have been relieved they didn't add another charge to his indictment."

"He's serving life without parole, what else could they have done to him?"

"I would have recommended castration if it was allowed," Evan said. "Life without parole is made for people like him and not Tim."

"Amen to that," Bill replied.

"You ought to go home," Evan said. "Give us a few days to indoctrinate the boy on our system of care."

"I think I'll do just that," Bill said.

Evan pointed at the sidewalk leading around the outside of the building. "You may go that way to your car. Just leave the badge with the security guard, he'll turn it in."

"Thank you, Evan…I feel a lot better about Tim's situation now."

They shook hands and Bill watched Evan head back towards the building. He followed the sidewalk around to the side of the mansion and handed his badge to the guard. Taking the same route he followed coming in, Bill drove through the gates and turned right on the county road.

He headed back towards the office, not that he planned on working but because his apartment was on the second floor. A perk of being a partner, and the only single one at that. Bill had leased the living space above the offices because he needed a place to live and it was convenient.

He had always enjoyed living downtown because most nights it was quiet. There were restaurants and shopping within walking distance and he didn't have to put up with the suburban sprawl around the city.

The building was probably a hundred years old but well renovated. Bill had two bedrooms and a large living room, all with ten foot ceilings and broad glass windows. A nice place to live, although Bill had never socialized here. There was one bar on the far side of town that catered to a gay clientele, but Bill had never been in there.

Isakson and Greene were the other active partners in the law office since Burt Lemuel had retired some years ago. But they all knew of Bill's sexual identity and it created no stress among them. If anything the office saw itself on the cutting edge of legal representation and having a gay partner seemed to give them that progressive feeling.

He didn't get the partnership because he was gay, at least he hoped not. He got it because he was a good lawyer. At thirty-four he might be one of the youngest law partners in the state, but then he had been out of law school for over ten years and immersed in the business of legal wrangling.

Bill was not a bar person, and in such a small county it didn't seem like a good idea to go out as a gay man. That didn't mean there was no gay activity around and he belonged to a social group of gay professionals, most of them far wealthier than he was.

The group was eclectic and membership was by invitation only. There were two doctors, several accountants, a chef, some retired members of the military and a rancher or two. They had lively card games and the inevitable cook-outs, most of them thrown on private land with a magnificent view of the mountains.

Bill had not been in a relationship since law school, but then there never seemed to be any time for something like that. The social networking was reaffirming for a thirty-something gay man and so much fun. It was the furthest he could get from the often depressing battles of the legal profession.

He parked in the lot behind the office and climbed the outer stairs to his apartment door. It was nearly dark by now and yet the outside building lights guided his way until he could get inside and turn on the hall lights. He wanted a drink, a chance to take his shoes off and relax. With that attitude he almost missed the folded sheet of paper lying on the tiles as he disarmed the alarm system.

"Congratulations. I don't know what you think you've accomplished by moving the boy to Barnhill but he is going to burn in hell anyways. Enjoy his company because he'll be back behind bars soon enough." The note was unsigned…it wasn't necessary.

Tim must know something that scared the Sheriff so much that he was foolish enough to write this nonsense. Barnes may not have made any actionable threats but it certainly showed his state of mind. Bill couldn't imagine Tim was in any danger in a secure facility like Barnhill, but Evan needed to know about this.

Bill removed his suit coat and tie, carrying them into his bedroom. He carried the note into the kitchen and mixed himself a Manhattan before picking up the phone. It was eight o'clock but he knew Evan would still be at the office.

"Evan, hello there," Bill said.

"I was just about to go home for my usual late snack. Did you think of something else?"

Bill read off the note and they both agreed that Barnes was digging a deeper hole for himself and the prosecution.

"I'll tell security to keep a close eye on the boy. No visitors of any kind unless I approve," Evan said. "Don't worry yourself, Bill. The man is just trying a little psychological warfare. I would mention this to your partners when you can. There may be further harassment from the deputies in the weeks to come."

"I'd arm myself but then they'd like that," Bill said.

"Just sharing the information is your best defense," Evan replied.

"I agree. I'll call Judge Parker in the morning. Thanks, Evan."

"Moral support 24/7, call me anytime. Have a good night."

Bill set down the phone and sipped at his drink. Sergeant Connors was probably right, there was little love lost between the State Police and Barnes. If everyone Bill knew despised the man then who the hell was voting for him? Evan was right, the more people who knew of these little incidents the better.

Tomorrow was another day and this fight was just beginning. He needed to ask the boss if he could hire a private investigator for a limited amount of time. The pro bono aspect of this case didn't allow for much financial leeway but Bill would pay for the guy himself if they got results. It was time to discover what had Barnes so riled up…or was it scared?

On to Chapter Three

Back to Chapter One

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"Falling Down" © Chris James.
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