Ann is surprised to see him hobble forward on crutches, with a bright white bandage wrapped around the top of his skull.
She notices that his dress pants are stretched out around one of his thighs as if there’s a bandage or a brace underneath.
“What the heck happened to him?” Marjorie whispers.
Ann has no answer. She can only stare as her neighbor hobbles down the aisle to sit next to his lawyer.
As soon as he’s seated, the bailiff announces, “All rise!”
Roy struggles to his feet with the rest of the people in the courtroom. He winces as if in pain as they sit back down and the judge addresses the courtroom.
“Mr. Kirk,” says Judge Walter Martinez, with a puzzled expression on his face, “may I ask what happened to you?”
“I’ve been shot, Your Honor,” Roy says. “Twice. Once in the leg and once in the head.”
Ann and Marjorie exchange surprised looks.
“Did the police arrest who did it?” Judge Martinez asks.
“I can’t go to the police,” Roy says. “I don’t trust them.”
The judge makes a sour face.
“Mr. Kirk,” he says, “if you’ve been shot, you need to speak to the police.”
Roy doesn’t say anything.
Ann watches in disbelief. What the hell is going on?
Judge Martinez asks if Roy feels okay to continue the hearing, and Roy says that he does not want a delay.
“I want to get everything out in the open,” he says. “Clear the air.”
The judge explains that the city solicitor is going to call witnesses to testify about the condition of the house on Lawn Street, but the hearing can begin with a statement by Roy, if he wants to make one.
“I do, Your Honor,” Roy says, rising and using his crutches to balance on one foot.
“You may remain seated, if you like,” the judge says.
“I want to stand, Your Honor. I want to stand up to the way I’ve been treated. By my neighbors and by this city.”
Roy starts in on a diatribe about how he’s been shunned by his community. How Ann Hoover has turned his neighbors against him. How his house has been vandalized.
“People have thrown firebombs at my house,” he says.
Ann and Marjorie exchange another puzzled look.
“Is this the house next to Ann Hoover?” Judge Martinez asks. “Or down the street, where you live?”
“Where I live. But it’s because of Ann Hoover’s harassment that this is happening. I don’t know who attacked me—who shot me—but I’m sure it’s related.”
Roy looks visibly shaken, his voice trembling. Even without the apparent physical injury, he looks completely stressed-out and mentally exhausted.
Ann can’t be sure if he’s telling the truth or if his behavior is an act. She knows Roy well enough now to realize that he’s capable of emotional manipulation. But while it’s true that several neighbors are mad at Roy for the condition of his house, Ann can’t believe anyone would vandalize his house or throw Molotov cocktails, or whatever he means by “firebombs,” at his house. And if Roy’s been shot, there’s no way anyone in the neighborhood had anything to do with it.
She doesn’t want to believe he would lie about being shot, or having his house vandalized, but at this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if the bandages were part of an elaborate hoax.
Still, while her gut tells her that the injuries might be fake, everything else she’s seeing from Roy—his haggard appearance—seems real.
The judge says that he’s very sorry that Roy has gone through these ordeals. However, he adds, this is not the venue to address those claims. If Roy has been vandalized and attacked, he needs to seek help from the police.
“This hearing is only to address your property and whether or not you’ve adhered to building and health codes. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Roy says, sitting back down and muttering, “I just want you to know the whole neighborhood has turned against me.”
Judge Martinez then shifts his attention to the solicitor.
“I’d like to call my first witness,” the lawyer says. “Ann Hoover.”
Ann takes a deep breath. She tries to put Roy’s crazy claims out of her mind. She needs to focus.
This is her chance to get something done about the leaking, rat-infested dump she’s been forced to live next to.
CHAPTER 21
HOURS LATER, ANN HOOVER sits in the gallery of the courtroom, waiting for the judge to return after a thirty-minute recess.
She’s hungry, tired, and anxious. They’ve been in court all day. She testified. Marjorie Wilson testified. Other neighbors testified. The city solicitor brought in real estate experts to talk about the negative effect Roy Kirk’s place has had on neighborhood property values. He brought in the city housing inspector to talk about the ways in which Roy’s property is out of compliance. He did the same with a representative from the health department. Finally, he showed the judge the photographs Ann has taken over the past several months, including one from just a few days ago, showing a cluster of rats digging into a garbage bag in Roy’s weed-filled yard.
Roy’s lawyer tried to rattle some of the witnesses—he asked Ann why she was harassing Roy—but for the most part he was unable to offer much defense as to why his client’s home looked worse now than when he bought it.
Through it all, Roy sat at the defendant’s table, impassive and hardly moving.
Judge Martinez is a fiftysomething man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a barrel chest. Throughout the hearing, Ann has been impressed by his no-nonsense, get-down-to-business demeanor.
“I’ve considered all the evidence,” the judge says, his booming voice matching his appearance, “and I’ve reached my decision.”
Ann’s heart accelerates. Her breathing feels shallow.
“There is a preponderance of evidence,” Judge Martinez says, “that you, Roy Kirk, have been derelict in your duties as a homeowner.”
Relief floods through Ann.
“Your neighbors, specifically Ann Hoover, have done their due diligence in trying to get you to clean up and repair your property. She has asked you, encouraged you, and offered to provide you with the contact information for professionals who could help.”
Ann risks a glance over at Roy, who seems like he’s watching a TV show that he finds particularly boring, not even looking at the judge deciding his fate.
“In recent weeks,” Judge Martinez continues, “your house has undergone various inspections, and it has failed them all miserably. By all accounts, you have done nothing to remedy the problems.”
Ann can’t believe it. The judge’s words feel like a vindication of everything she’s been saying since Roy moved in.
Yes! she thinks. Let him have it, Judge!
“Roy Kirk,” the judge continues, “this court hereby fines you in the amount of fifty thousand dollars.”
Ann’s mouth drops open.
She hadn’t expected that kind of penalty.
Once again, Ann feels sorry for Roy. She knows he can’t afford this. If he had fifty thousand dollars lying around, surely he would have put it into the house.