39 DAYS

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

DAY 1 Friday, 10:50 PM - "A Taste of LA" City Fair, Los Angeles, California

Juan Alvarez stood by the ticket window at the local street fair and scanned the crowd. He had told his younger brother to meet him at this exact location at 10:30 pm. He wasn't surprised that Hector was a no-show. Hector was nineteen years old on the outside, but still thirteen or fourteen on the inside. If he found a better invitation for tonight's festivities, he wouldn't think twice about bailing on his older brother. Hector owned a cell phone, but he rarely ever answered it, as he always thought life was more important than any text message or phone call.

Juan nervously made one last pass through the crowd, but he was certain that Hector wasn't there. Juan silently prayed that his younger sibling wasn't doing something stupid, as Hector had a unique way of filling his free time with law-breaking activities. Juan hadn't noticed the band of girls watching him from the other side of the street. Typical of Juan, he always focused on Hector and his family responsibilities before any personal fun. As he glanced at his watch, he finally gave up on Hector and started back toward his car.

The girls giggled, as they secretly captured pictures of Juan on their tiny cell phones. Juan was not only an attractive, strong twenty-two-year old, but he also moved like an elite athlete - confident, assured, and graceful. The girls joked about which one of them should approach the sexy stranger, but like always, it was Angelina who simply stepped away from the pack and started walking toward Juan at a pace that left the others behind.

Juan's car was parked on the street just a block and a half from the City Fair, and as he got close to the vehicle, he unlocked the doors with his remote key. As he slid into the driver's seat, Angelina surprised him by quickly jumping in the passenger side.

"Where we goin'?" Angelina giggled as she attached her seat belt.

"What the hell?" Juan said nervously as his eyes darted around to see if there was anyone else with her. When he calmed himself in realizing that she was alone, he continued, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm your date," Angelina said with her best, most seductive smile. After a slight pause, she questioned, "That is, if you're up for a little fun?"

Juan, who wasn't really known for his spontaneous actions, had to pause for a second to collect his thoughts. This unknown passenger was certainly beautiful; there was no question about that. Hector seemed like he'd made his own plans for the night, and as a result, Juan really didn't have anywhere he needed to be.

So without another word, Juan started the car and headed out for what his mystery date had classified as "a little fun."

DAY 4 Monday, 8:04 am - Superior Court of Los Angeles County, California

At just after 8 am, Judge Michael Henderson stepped into his office, or his chambers as it was known to lawyers and his clerks. His legs were stiff from yesterday's pickup basketball games. At forty-nine years of age and with fifteen extra pounds on his six-foot, four-inch frame, his joints sounded more like rusty folding chairs, but the judge just couldn't give up his favorite lunchtime activity.

For twelve years, Judge Henderson had always followed the exact same morning routine:

- remove his suit jacket and hang it in the closet - check his phone messages that had been neatly aligned on his desk, via three-by-five-inch slips of pink paper - retrieve his handheld tape recorder from his upper-right-hand drawer and insert a new tape - grab the top case folder from the stack located on the left side of his desk and begin reading (occasionally stopping to dictate notes or responses)

His wife, his clerks, and certainly his children had all made their best attempt to get him "into the twenty-first century," but Judge Henderson was a creature of habit, and he had no intention of ever exchanging his trusty Dictaphone machine for a laptop computer.

First up today was case number RL8348, State of California v. Jos Seneca Ramirez. The judge couldn't help but cringe as he read the title of the file.

"Jos, how did you get back so soon?" the judge muttered to himself.

Like many of Judge Henderson's cases, Jos a was a "regular" - twenty-three years old; from San Gabriel, California; known gang member; six prior arrests; two prior jail terms; seven-year sentence for breaking and entering (two years served); three-year sentence for domestic battery (one year served).

Clicking the record button on his handheld device, Judge Henderson began dictating notes.

"Helen, please pull the full file on Jos Seneca Ramirez, of San Gabriel, California," he said slowly, spelling the last name, letter by letter, so that Helen wouldn't have to guess. "When did we last sentence him? How long did he serve against that sentence? Also, please pull the parole board's memo from his latest release."

He put his head back on his oversized leather chair and took a deep breath. There were many things about this job that were truly outstanding, but every time he saw a name like Jos Ramirez, he questioned whether he was simply wasting his time as a superior court judge of Los Angeles County.

He knew what this brief would say even before he started to read. In fact, he'd read Jos's story at least three times in the past six or seven years. Like most of his regulars, Jos was not affected by jail time or state-run rehabilitation programs. Jos was 100 percent criminal, and the end of his story was 100 percent predictable. The judge knew that Jos's final destination was a given - sooner or later Jos would end up in jail for life or dead in the streets. In that, there was no question. The only question regarding a regular like Jos Ramirez, and hundreds of others just like him, was how much pain and havoc they would cause between now and their final destination.

Judge Henderson opened his eyes, grabbed the file, and began reading the predictable conclusions. He wished he had the power to prevent Jos's wrath on mankind, but until Jos committed a crime that would mandate a life sentence without parole, the judge was only biding time.

DAY 5 Tuesday, 1:05 pm - St. Mary's Church of Hope, Pico Rivera, California

Hector Alvarez's nineteen-year-old body had never been so filled with emotion as he watched his cousins carry his brother's casket down the church stairs to the waiting hearse. In thirty minutes, the same group would load the casket onto the machine that would lower his brother's twenty-two-year-old, lifeless body into the grave. His brother would be buried two plots over from his mother, who had died giving birth to Hector, and immediately next to his father, who had died ten years earlier in a fight in prison, where he had been serving seven years for an assault-and-battery conviction.

Hector's body literally shook, as if he was chilled to the bone and couldn't get warm. However, the...