THE STUDENT COUNCIL

Lester “Bonzi” Kraft loved to work. At age sixty-five, he had no plans to retire. He spent most days in his law office, and Saturdays were no exception. In the morning, he had drawn up one will and revised another, then met with a client to discuss a pending divorce settlement. Most of the afternoon was consumed by research for a personal injury case, a major whiplash stemming from a minor traffic accident. All in all, it had been a quiet day for both him and Oil City, until shit hit the fan at four o’clock.

The first report was that a man and a girl had been attacked at the high school. A second revealed that the man was dead and the girl, a student, was seriously injured. The third provided a name for the deceased. Louis Sorvino.

The familiar name sent Bonzi scrambling for the Barner file. Wasn’t that the same man Ed Barner inquired about recently? He had passed on the request to a private investigator in Pittsburgh, but signed off on the report that his paralegal prepared.

The lawyer was reading a copy from the file when the phone rang again. The student was identified as Amy Westin, Grant Westin’s daughter. Grant and his wife had been in his office just a few weeks ago. About the bond for building the new high school.

Bonzi turned his attention to a printout of Barner’s emailed request. It had come from the Barner boy, not his father. Had his assistant mentioned that? He couldn’t remember. Urgent request. Would like full disclosure of the performance record of Narcotics Detective Louis Sorvino of the Pittsburgh Police Bureau. He and two other detectives left the Bureau last November. What was the reason for the group resignation?

The lawyer’s phone sounded still again. An attorney friend had another update. Sorvino had been found in a bathroom. With a knife in his back.

“Geezus,” Bonzi exclaimed after the call. What horrible timing. Murder was almost unheard of in Oil City. Happened maybe once every ten years. Why now? The school was about to be featured on 60 Minutes!

Did the Barner boy know something about it? Why had he requested information about this Sorvino? Bonzi was about to call Ed Barner when his phone rang again.

“Bonz, this is Hillman.”

The attorney slid to the front edge of his seat. What could the police chief want? “Busy afternoon for you, Chief, from what I hear.”

“You too, as of now. We’ve got a Miss Amy Westin here at the Medical Center.”

“The girl that was attacked at the school?”

“We don’t know what happened yet. She was there and got roughed up. Concussion and a fracture. The doctor cleared her to talk to us, but she wants to see you first.”

“She asked to see an attorney?”

“You’re an attorney. She asked for you by name.”

“How old is she?”

“The teacher who found her at the scene said she’s sixteen.”

“Are her parents there? I’d like to speak with her father.”

“We haven’t been able to reach the parents yet. She won’t even tell us where they are. Will you stop asking questions and hurry over here? You’re holding up the investigation.”

“Why me? Did she say?”

“That sounds like more damn questions. Get over here.”

Bonzi put on his jacket, combed his gray hair, and locked up. A minute ago he’d been wishing he knew more. He was about to know more than anyone. Why him?

Chief Hillman awaited him at the Northwest Medical Center entrance. A small crowd filled the lobby inside, all on their feet. Young Paul Barner stood a head above the rest. Hillman ushered the lawyer straight to an elevator door, where a policeman stood sentry. On the second floor, another uniformed officer stood next to a closed door.

The chief said, “Keep it brief, Bonz. We’ve got nothing until she talks to me.”

Lester Kraft knocked and waited a moment as a courtesy. When he entered, he found the girl inclined in bed, watching the door. White gauze encircled her head above her eyebrows. The left side of her face was bruised and swollen. An IV dripped into her left forearm.

“How you feeling?” he asked, wishing he could retract the question. She looked awful.

“The doctor called it a zygomatic fracture,” Miss Westin said, barely moving her lips. “And a moderate concussion.” She patted the bed beside her. “Sit close so I can whisper. It hurts to talk.”

He nodded and eased down next to her. “Why did you ask for me? I know your father, but you and I have never met.”

“You work for Ed Barner. He only hires the best.”

“Well, thank you. Why do you want an attorney?”

“Not for much, really. A couple little things. My parents are going to sign an emancipation agreement for me. I need you to take care of that. I imagine they’ll be back in town very soon.”

“Why do you ...”

She lifted a hand. “I need you to expedite a legal change of my surname. I like the name Freed. Amy Beth Freed.”

Bonzi wondered if her concussion was doing the talking. Or possibly the effect of a traumatic experience. Why was she talking about offbeat things at a time like this? A man was dead. Maybe he should call for the doctor.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued. “How can I pay? Well, I have savings. I’ll give you seven hundred dollars.”

The lawyer shook his head. The girl shouldn’t be talking to anyone in her mental state. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re out of town. Personal business.”

“I assume you have a number where I can reach them?”

She raised her hand again. “I wanted to thank you before I talked to anyone else. I thought the best way was to give you my business. That’s all the legal work I can think of.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“Well, for saving me, of course. If it hadn’t been for that report you did for Paul... about Mister Sorvino ... I never would have been carrying my father’s hunting knife.”

Bonzi’s spine flash-froze, instantly an icicle. “You killed Sorvino? With your knife?” She was nothing but a child!

She winced at his reaction, then rubbed her forehead with her right hand. “I heard someone say he was dead. I was only trying to stop him.”

The lawyer rose to his feet. “I need to contact your parents right now. You’ll need a criminal attorney.”

“Why?” she cried. “Do you think I did something wrong? I was the victim. I stopped the school security guard from raping me. The knife was the only way.”

Bonzi stared at the frightened young girl. “Security guard? Sorvino was working at the school?”

She patted her mattress again, inviting him to return. “Let me tell you everything.” The girl leaned back into her pillow and closed her eyes. “When the new school opened at the mall, the district hired a security guard. That was Louis Sorvino. I felt threatened from the very beginning. Something was wrong about him. He insisted on talking to me all the time, even after I asked him to leave me alone.” She motioned Bonzi closer and whispered, “I always felt him staring at me. Really creepy.

“I complained to a teacher and friends on the student council. They took the issue to the school board and administration, who agreed to fire him, but they gave him two weeks’ notice. His behavior only got worse, maybe because he knew he was leaving. I should have stopped going to school until he was gone, but that seemed so unfair. I totally loved high school. Sixty Minutes was coming.

“Anyway, Paul Barner’s a good friend. He made an inquiry about Mister Sorvino a few days ago.”

The lawyer saw her eyes flicker open for a second, glancing at him. “He showed me your letter. That’s when I started carrying the knife.”

Bonzi shifted uncomfortably. “Taking a knife to school is a serious violation.”

Her eyes popped wide open. “You wrote that report! You signed it! What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell somebody. Talk to the principal.”

“Again? They already fired Sorvino. He only had another week to go.”

“But what about Paul? What did he say?”

“He said it was a good thing they were getting rid of him. That’s pretty much it.”

Bonzi nodded for her to continue. He was anxious to hear the rest of the bizarre story.

She closed her eyes again. “Today I went to the school to use the exercise room. I usually go there with a teacher, Miss Berman, but I was alone today. I have a key that was given to me by the student council.”

The lawyer interrupted again. “Students have keys to the school?”

“Only a few. Keys were given to three members of the council by Mister Johnson, the principal. Paul loaned me his.”

Strange, Bonzi thought. Kids with keys? Then again, Paul Barner had been awarded a ceremonial key to the whole damn city by the mayor himself. Big Seven Three was a special case.

Amy went on. “The school was deserted, not a soul around. I went into the ladies’ shower room to use a toilet. When I came out of the stall, Mister Sorvino was standing there, waiting for me. I screamed for help and he shoved me against the wall, then threw me to the floor. He jumped on me and yelled the strangest thing. ‘Don’t be shy! I’ve seen you naked before!’”

The lawyer shuddered. This Sorvino was a monster. The poor girl was fighting off tears, and so was he.

“He was squeezing my chest, trying to kiss me. My bag was still strapped to my shoulder. I reached inside, found the knife, and tried to stop him. When I struck him with it, he hit me. That’s all I remember ... until I was revived by an EMT.” She turned away and started weeping.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. “It was clearly self defense. You had to protect yourself.”

“Why did I have to?” she muttered. “Why would the district hire someone like him? Don’t they do security checks ... like you did?”

Bonzi had been thinking of her, not the former detective. When he signed off on the letter for the Barners, he had no idea that Sorvino was working at the school. That knowledge would have changed everything. He would have called the superintendent right away. This never would have happened.

Amy continued to sniffle and mumble. “They even do security checks on parents that volunteer at the school. Why not a security guard?”

“I’m sure they did one,” Bonzi replied. “What was in my report wouldn’t show up in a standard background check. No charges were ever filed against Sorvino.”

She rolled her head to face him. “I don’t understand. I thought police were supposed to protect people. Are you saying the Pittsburgh police fired him for doing those bad things and kept it secret? They just let him go somewhere else to hurt people?”

“The Pittsburgh Bureau didn’t fire him. He resigned.”

She stared at him intently. “He was forced to resign! The police threatened to prosecute him if he didn’t. His quitting was the same as admitting his guilt.”

Bonzi wondered how the conversation had turned into a legal discussion. “We can assume that, but it’s not true in a legal sense. The Bureau saved the time and expense of a criminal investigation. Probably the embarrassment too.”

She maintained her stare. “Saved time and expense? Why? So Sorvino could come to Oil City and do this to me?”

Geezus, Bonzi realized, from the mouths of babes. How many times was she going to have to spell it out for him? Miss Westin was a victim of the City of Pittsburgh. The Bureau of Police. The district attorney’s office. Probably the mayor too! They chose not to investigate an alleged sex offender, purely as a matter of convenience. As a result, a sixteen-year-old had been forced to fight for her life. Gross negligence! Reckless endangerment! Unknowingly, Miss Westin had called exactly the right lawyer.

He cleared his throat. “Amy, if you’ll get your father on the phone, I’d like to discuss the possibility of filing a civil suit on behalf of your family.”

“About what?”

“A man like Louis Sorvino never should have been allowed to set foot in your school. The Pittsburgh police basically unleashed a known sexual predator on an unsuspecting public ... on our children. That can’t go unpunished.”

Her hands went to her face, covering it, and she wept again. “I’ll have nightmares forever. I’ll never be able to go to that school again. My life is ruined.”

Bonzi’s lawyer heart swelled with emotion. Amy would be compelling in front of a jury, if a suit went that far. He already assumed it wouldn’t. A quiet settlement – and a huge one – seemed automatic. Pittsburgh wouldn’t even want him to file the complaint in court. City leadership would be buried by hostile media coverage and public outcry. Lots of reputations would be destroyed. “Here,” he said, holding out his phone. “Call your father.”

She dried her eyes on the sheet. “Have you forgotten why I asked to see you? The first things I mentioned?”

“What was that?”

“My emancipation and name change. My parents shouldn’t be involved.”

“Geezus,” he whispered to himself. Had she been thinking about a civil suit all along? About having personal control of everything? No, of course not. Impossible. The civil litigation had been his own revelation, hadn’t it? The child was only sixteen, too young to understand such matters.

She didn’t wait for a response. “Both my parents are in Jupiter, Florida. They’ve probably heard about me by now, even tried to call. I’ve asked not to be disturbed by anyone. I’m sure they’ll be back in Oil City soon, maybe late tonight or tomorrow. The emancipation thing is something they already agreed to. Let them know it has to be signed before I’ll see them. As for the name change, that’s for privacy ... for me and the Westin family. Practically speaking, I’ll become Amy Freed the moment my parents sign the agreement. I don’t have a driver’s license, so you’ll only have to contact Social Security.”

Bonzi nodded. For an emancipated minor, a name change was that simple. Through the court system, even her birth certificate could be amended. Amy Westin could cease to exist.

“So,” she continued, “your client will be Amy B. Freed. Can I assume you’ll work on contingency?”

The lawyer sat in a daze. How had this reverted from a tearful drama to a business transaction so seamlessly? “Twenty percent of a settlement is normal. Forty if it goes to trial.”

She studied him, fully focused. “Fine. Before I talk to the police, please give them a copy of your report on Sorvino. You know, to explain why I had the knife.”

“Technically, that report belongs to Paul Barner. I saw him in the waiting area. I’ll get his approval first.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are there others downstairs?”

“Fifteen or twenty.”

“Tell them I’ll be okay. I just won’t be able to see anyone, not for maybe a few days.”

“I’ll do that.”

She told him her father’s cell number. “About the emancipation thing. Remind him we had a deal.”

Despite Bonzi’s excitement over the prospects of his new case, something didn’t feel right. The girl seemed too calm under the circumstances. A minute ago, she’d been trembling. Now she was relaxed. How would Chief Hillman interpret her demeanor? What would that demeanor even be? “Amy, maybe you should wait to talk to the police. Let me conference with your father first. He might want to have a criminal attorney present, just to be safe.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That would send the wrong message. I have nothing to hide. Thank you for your concern, Mister Kraft.”

“You’ll need counsel present,” he insisted. “I’ll at least sit in.”

“Fine. Only you.”

When the attorney stepped out of the room, he found Hillman in the hallway, talking on a cell phone. The chief quickly disconnected. “Is she ready for me, Bonz?”

“I just spoke to Grant Westin. He and his wife are in Florida, on the way to an airport for a flight home.”

“Good.”

“I’ll be representing the girl.”

The lawyer watched the police chief, his friend of twenty ears, reach to his head and rumple his thick hair. “Good Lord,” Hillman muttered. “Does that mean the knife was hers?”

Bonzi nodded. “Just the two of them were involved ... an attempted rape. Sorvino was a bad apple. She was already afraid of him.”

The chief sighed and patted Bonzi’s shoulder. “The teacher who found them in the restroom and called it in said the same damn thing.”

The lawyer drew a deep breath. His client had told him the truth.

Hillman’s phone chirped. He turned away from Bonzi and drifted down the hall to answer. “What is it?”

“We’re looking through Sorvino’s apartment. There’s ah ... a ... photograph of the Westin girl here.”

Hearing the hesitation in his officer’s voice, the chief asked, “What kind of photograph?”

“It appears to have been taken at the crime scene, the same shower room. The girl’s completely naked.”

Hillman coughed. “She was posing without her clothes on?”

“It sure doesn’t look that way. I’d guess she didn’t know she was being photographed at all. There’s some kind of little spy camera here with it. The thing’s made to look like an electrical outlet.”

The chief gritted his teeth. “That sick bastard. Get it all logged in.”

“I’m afraid there’s more, sir. Four more photos. They appear to have been cut out of a high school yearbook, probably last year’s Samaritan. One of the portraits is the Westin girl. One of the other girls is your daughter Kristin. She’s a senior now, isn’t she?”

Chief Hillman squeezed the phone, his knuckles turning white. His own daughter? He wished he could have killed Sorvino himself.