Chapter Thirty Four

THE FIRST SECTION:
Patrick saw George and Michele weaving through the crowd toward the front steps of the courthouse when he motioned them his way. It was a thick crowd of well over a hundred people and most were trying to move toward the windows and front door at the same time. Patrick, being the large man that he was, had no problem withstanding the pushing, but Michele and George were caught up in the swaying crowd and Patrick eventually lost them in the sea of heads. But before long Patrick felt a tug at his pant legs, and when he looked down he saw Michele crawling on his hands and knees with George on his back riding him like a dead man rides a horse. If it did not scare Patrick so much that his friends might be crushed it might have been the most comical thing he had ever seen.
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He pulled his friends up with great difficulty, as they struggled to gain their footing thanks to the ever tightening crowd. Because Patrick was already standing near a window and could withstand the push of the crowd, he nudged the smaller Michele and George in front of him so that they would not get lost again. The three men had a fairly good view of the inside of the courthouse itself but because the room was packed with spectators on the inside, they could not see beyond the back row. It was obvious that something was going on inside as everyone was standing up, but the noisy crowd outside made it took difficult to actually hear what was being said. But when the crowd on the inside sat down, Patrick had a clear view of the judge, who was sitting above everyone else.

Frustrated with the lack of consideration for those who wanted to listen in, Patrick reared his head back toward the crowd and shouted, “Everyone be quiet! The trial has started! If you aren’t quite then I’ll come around and make you quiet!”

A small chuckle came over the crowd and Patrick pushed his way a few steps in to find who was mocking him. But the crowd slowly came to a silence and he settled back into his spot. Soon, a system of whispers developed as news traveled from the front of the crowd to the back as information could be passed on.

But the information was spotty at best. Hardly anyone could hear the proceedings to begin with and it did not take long for conflicting stories to develop and excite the crowd. One story had the lawyers arguing face to face about the nature of the crime while another suggested that neither lawyer was doing much to help his case. Both sides were angered by this revelation and it appeared that a riot was about to ensue until the police stepped to calm things down. The most horrifying description of events had the family standing on chairs as though they were ready to be hung.

“Even the boy,” one woman gasped before fainting into the arms of an unsuspecting policeman.
But Patrick, Michele and George tried to keep their wits by paying attention to what they could confirm they actually heard. This frustrated some of the people in the crowd directly around them because it meant others in the crowd were getting better information more quickly.
“I don’t know about better,” Patrick remarked to one man who accused Patrick of spreading disinformation by purposefully not providing any information. As the day drew on, the crowd grew restless. It was becoming apparent that no one really knew what was going on inside and that none of the stories could be trusted. After a particularly long grumble from the crowd after it received news that the trial was not even about the boy and his family but about which end of the meadows should be converted into gardens instead, one half of the crowd began chanting, “hang them now”. This caused the other half to begin shouting, “let them be”. It did not take long for the remaining rotten vegetables to be tossed from one end of the crowd to the other and back again. And because the crowd was so thick and mixed with supporters from each side, the targets were indiscriminant.

“What is going on here?” Patrick asked. “These people are really beginning to annoy me. I can’t hear a thing of what is going on now.”

“You couldn’t hear a thing that was going on before either old man,” shouted a random voice from the crowd.

“Who said that?” Patrick cried out. “Who is so bold as to question my authority around here?”
“You’d better stay out of this old man,” another voice shouted. “You just might get hurt.”

This infuriated Patrick and he began pushing people off to the side in search of the man who dared to challenge him. He was not as young and robust as he used be, he sometimes needed a cane to get around, but he had never lost his strength. The problem he faced, however, was that he had no clue who had shouted those insults at him and everyone he pushed to the side as he tried to make his way through turned against him. No sooner than he had taken five steps into the crowd did the crowd turn on him, pelting him with all of their rotten tomatoes and apples. At first, the projectiles were a nuisance to the fishmonger, but the more that were thrown his way the less he was able to move about without being knocked from any random direction. Finally he stopped and within a few moments so did the tossing of vegetables and fruits. Patrick stood alone in the middle of the crowd and held onto the little balance that he had left. He tried to look around him at the now silent crowd but there were too many vegetable chunks stuck his forehead and too much juice running down his face for him to see much of anything. He wiped his face clean and again scoured the crowd.

Finally, a voice from the crowd shouted, “Good work old man, you managed to take everyone’s attention away from the trial. It’s a good thing you can’t run for mayor because then we would never get anything done!”

This time Patrick saw whom it was and ran straight for him. But as he did the crowd thickened again and the brawl ensued. Patrick never got to the young man with the brash mouth, but he certainly made every effort to get to him before he was pulled from the crowd by Michele and George.

“Calm down old man,” Michele laughed, “or you’ll end up in jail like everyone else.”

“If it weren’t for your participation in my fishing business,” Patrick replied, “I’d have you pinned to the ground right now.”

“Its over!” a voice shouted over the ruckus. The crowd quickly grew silent again and moved back to the windows and doorway to try to learn of the outcome.

“What do you suppose will happen?” George asked.

“I don’t know,” Michele replied. “I’ve heard some bad things though.”

“Like it’s already been decided?” Patrick wondered aloud.

“Like it’s already been decided,” Michele nodded.

“And what have they decided?” George asked.

“I've heard so many things,” Patrick answered, “that I don’t know what to trust.”

“I've heard they will hang Christopher and Penelope,” Michele suggested, “and send William off to an orphanage somewhere.”

“I've heard they might send the family off to a jail somewhere north of here, maybe up in Concord,” Patrick added. “Who knows what they are thinking. I just hope nothing bad happens. They are too good to be punished like this.”

“I think they have suffered enough,” George said. “I think they should just let them go.”

Michele and Patrick shared George’s sympathy but none of them believed that was going to happen. Neither thought that William should go unpunished even if they believed that he was not really at fault for anything. All those nights where they had sat down to discuss their lives and devotion to civil disobedience were finally coming back to them as the end of a line no one ever wanted to see. It was not William’s fault that he was taught to misbehave like everyone else. In fact, it was probably the adults’ fault for not explaining why they preached civil disobedience. And all William had done was behave the way he was taught to behave. If he were not to be blamed for that, then consideration of leniency for his youth alone had to be playing in the minds of the judge. But they also knew that protest was no excuse for living a good and just life. Raw deals may be handed out, but the true essence of humankind is how adversity is overcome. Failure is a known and accepted part of life, and whether or not a person can turn that failure into something good, something progressive is what distinguishes that person from the one who cannot. Clearly, everyone associated with William, Lewis, David, Christopher, Penelope, William’s sisters, the bullies and even that little girl Elizabeth had not done their job properly. Not one of them led wholly good lives. Not one of them lived a life that attempted to become forward moving at all times. Instead, they tried to peck away at the society that they had felt wronged them. Christopher was finally getting his justice for blowing up the bridge, even if no one could confirm it but him. Penelope had a heart that was strong, but it was only used to survive and comfort in a time of need. Maybe if she had used her discipline to steer her children away from accepting failure they could have grown into something much more than bored kids in a difficult society. And William, if he had only found something to do, something to take his mind off his immediate world, then he could have discovered his true calling in life. Seven years old is certainly too young of an age to determine the direction his life could have gone in, but age is not an excuse for destiny. Some people figure out at an early age the differences between right and wrong, and William was certainly not one of those children.
As the crowd gathered around the front steps, they saw the mayor walk down the aisle toward the front door. He stopped to shake hands with people as he made his way up the aisle and made little effort to take notice of the waiting crowd outside. He then stopped and waited for the judge to join him along with all of the other members of the affected people except for the Calloway family.

Patrick pointed out that the jail carriage was being taken around to the rear of the courthouse and remarked, “This can’t be good.”