Chapter Sixteen
The western sun was pouring through the windows of the County Court House when the Deputy came for him. She was wearing a tailored starched khaki skirt and blouse. Cuffs and a short-handled whip hung from her tightly belted waist. “You’re the last case of the day,” she murmured as she unlocked his cell door.
The courtroom was nearly vacant. In the back of the courtroom, Richie spotted two young female reporters casually dressed in jeans. Their stifled yawns indicated there were bigger fish to fry than him. The Judge, a gray-haired grandmotherly woman, peered down at him from the bench. She expressed her displeasure with a rueful shake of her head.
“Jane, please read the charges.”
The Bailiff read in a monotone, “Richard…aka Richie…Rand. eighteen years old. Adopted son o
