The Whole Truth by James Scott Bell Page A

unhinged. And if he said yes he knew, even at five, that he’d be giving up too much of his spirit to a common bully.
    Sitting cross-legged, he was also not able to get up and run. Even if he did, Cody was big and fast and would catch him as easily as Deuce snatching a tossed tennis ball.
    â€œGimme it,” Cody said.
    Stevie didn’t move. The Dew was cool in his hands. He tightened his grip on the can.
    â€œI’m gonna pound your head down your neck.”
    He could do it too. Stevie did not want his head to take that trip. But still he held to the can. He was, in fact, immobile.
    Cody started to reach for the can. “Give it!”
    Thunk.
    Cody’s head snapped back. A Mountain Dew, another one, clunked to the sidewalk. Cody slapped his hands on his head, yelping like a wounded puppy.
    â€œRun!”
    It was Robert. Stevie rolled right, shot to his feet, took off down Hoover Street. He didn’t look back for four blocks. He held onto his Mountain Dew and kept going. When he did finally stop he saw he was alone. No hot pursuit by the hated Cody.
    But what about Robert? Had Cody caught him? What would he do to Robert’s head?
    Stevie ran back, fast, scared that the whole neighborhood would be crawling with Messinas, from the oldest, Red, who drove and smoked and was mean, to the youngest, Danny, only three but who’d just as soon bite you as drool on you.
    Any one of that pack could jump out of a bush or trash can. And they could swarm over Robert like cockroaches.
    But when Stevie got home there was no one around. No! Carried off! Robert had been captured and was being hauled to the Messinas as fresh meat for Deuce! He’d get his leg chewed off! And it was all Stevie’s fault, because he ran away and left Robert for dead!
    â€œGet in here.” His mother, standing at the open front door.
    â€œMom, Robert’s in trouble!”
    â€œYou both are. Come here now.”
    Both? Running in, heart thumping, Stevie let out a huge gust of relief. Robert was there. Sitting on the hard wooden punishment chair, his red T-shirt ripped.
    â€œWhat happened?” Stevie said.
    â€œI bit him,” Robert said.
    Stevie laughed. The biting Messinas had gotten what they deserved.
    â€œIt’s not funny,” Mom said. “He really hurt that boy. There’s going to be hell to pay. Don’t think there won’t be.”
    Hell? He could pay that, as long as he still had his head in the same place, on top of his neck.
    Yep, Robert could sure throw. He’d nailed Cody Messina with that can of Mountain Dew and changed the course of neighborhood history. No Messina ever bothered them again.
    In the law library, the vividness of the memory surprised Steve. It had been a long time since he’d thought about that day, and never so clearly, so emotionally as now.
    All because his big brother was still alive.
    If Johnny LaSalle was his big brother.
    And if he wasn’t, how did he know what he knew?
    The clerk read the verdict at 4:27 in the afternoon, that same day. The jury had deliberated just two hours.
    Carlos Mendez was found guilty of one count under penal code section 12021.
    Steve felt his client tense up next to him, as if this was some sort of surprise. There were grumbles from the gallery. The sounds of a family not pleased.
    They were sounds only half heard by Steve. He was still dazed by the money and the note he’d been given in the library.
    The half awareness was blitzed by Judge O’Hara’s voice as he polled the jury, then sent them on their merry way. None of them made eye contact with Steve as they filed out. A few smiled at Moira Hanson.
    â€œAny reason we shouldn’t set a date for sentencing?” the judge said.
    The defense lawyer’s tape player clicked on in Steve’s mind. “I move, Your Honor, to set aside the verdict under PC 1181.6.”
    It was the old insufficiency of evidence section, which gave judges