Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚
MANHATTAN — JULY 1899
"Awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press," Brian Denton whispered to Jack as the two snuck out of the basement behind David and Sarah Jacobs.
"Yeah, I just hope I get to thank him for it someday," Jack grinned, sweeping his legs up as he rotated smoothly out the window. He hopped to the ground and wrapped an arm around Sarah as he walked the Jacobs' children home.
Denton leaned against a streetlamp and struck a match off the bottom of his shoe, bringing it up to light his cigarette. After Sarah kissed Jack on the cheek as a goodnight, the newsboy rejoined Denton, and the two began the long stroll to Duane Street.
"What's on your mind, Jack?" Denton mused, giving the boy half a smile as he nudged him. "Come on, I recognize that look. That's your scheming face."
Jack's breathy laugh was short-lived. His face flushed a rosy color, absent of all the bravado he'd shown just an hour before. For once, he didn't act like the fearless strike leader he'd set himself up as; rather, he looked like the lost young man he really was, desperately needing guidance. Perhaps Denton was all too eager to play the part, having never had a younger brother before. After all, he was the baby of the Denton dynasty with a high-achieving, perfect, and sometimes bossy older sister.
They ducked into a rather clean Hester Street pub – Steinmetz Tavern – and sat at the bar for a chat. Jack ordered himself a half-mug of beer in a way that indicated to Denton he'd done so numerous times before. Therefore, Denton decided not to chastise him about the dangers of early liquor consumption as he figured it would only be ignored.
As they began to casually light up a couple smokes, Jack told Denton all about his visit to Ossining Prison, seeing his friends locked up, the gravity of their situation. Then Jack launched into Grim's predicament and missing child.
Then came the hard part: asking if Denton's sister, Ingrid, might be able to disclose information about Grim's son's whereabouts given her work with New York orphanages.
Denton listened intently, took a few notes in a flipbook, and when Jack finished, he shrugged and said, "I don't see why she wouldn't be able to help. But may I speak plainly, Jack?"
"Sure," Jack said.
"I don't know anything about this 'Grim.' How do you know he really has a son out there?"
The question pulled Jack up short. "How do I know? He told me himself. His words. And he's a friend of mine. He was there for me in the Refuge. What's not to trust?"
Denton gave Jack a sideways look, all manner of teasing gone. "He's a convicted killer in Sing Sing."
"You better watch out what you say about him," Jack said sharply, chasing down his bitterness with a gulp of beer.
"I didn't say anything," Denton corrected him. "I'm a newspaper man. I read the papers as much as you do. And that's what they're calling him. And the other one."
"Well, they didn't do anything wrong, understand?"
"That's funny," Denton said with a small laugh. "They only killed a man, that's all."
Jack grasped for something to say in return but came up empty. He lowered his gaze, putting his pint to his lips.
"Don't start something you can't finish," Denton advised calmly. "I just hope your friends have a good lawyer."
Jack's stubborn insistence in Grim's goodness resurfaced, but he realized Denton wasn't trying to deny that. He was just apprehensive. If his sister risked her job to locate this child, then Grim better be telling the truth about the boy being his. Denton wanted to ensure they weren't being taken advantage of.
Jack averted his eyes as he replied, "He's still my friend, Denton. If I'm wrong, I'll go down for it, not your sister."
"Don't worry, Jack," Denton said. "I'll talk to her, see if she can arrange something with the kid."
"And the murder trial?" Jack mumbled, bouncing his knee nervously. "What about that? How do I fix that?"
"We'll fight for a new trial. I'll do everything I can."
"Denton, I think we oughta get a new lawyer," Jack said. "When they put Grim and Tide on the stand a year ago, they didn't get to say much. That judge railroaded them, that's what he did!"
"Jack," Denton hushed him with a composed smile, rubbing his hands together. "We'll keep our fingers crossed and hope for a miracle."
"Judge Parrish, I just want to remind you of your luncheon appointment in 15 minutes," the young clerk said with his head ducked into the office, the door ajar.
Jack sat in the chair opposite the clerk's desk, having been waiting for what felt like hours.
"Yes, thank you, Nash." Jack could hear Judge Parrish's distant voice through the door. "Is there anyone waiting to see me in the lobby?"
"There's the Kelly boy," Nash replied.
"Oh, I can't see him now. No more appointments today, please."
"Yes, sir," Nash said, closing the office door.
Jack jumped out of his chair and marched over to Nash's desk as he sat down. "I was here yesterday, and I've been here three hours today. You had dozens of people come in here while I was waiting," Jack insisted, slamming his fist on the clerk's desk. "He's gotta see me!"
"I'm sorry, those other people had appointments," the clerk said, busying himself with the stack of files before him. "Why don't you come back tomorrow about 11:30?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, suppose I come back next Mardi Gras. I gotta see him now, I tell ya!"
A rumble of voices emerged from the judge's office as the door opened, and Judge Parrish and another elegantly dressed man emerged, laughing about something Parrish had said.
Jack stepped away from the desk and toward the newcomers. "Judge Parrish, I've been waiting to see you."
The laughing stopped, and Parrish gave Jack a sad smile. "Sorry, my boy, some other time," he said, his hat in his hand. "I'm on my way out now."
"But I'm Jack Kelly. You're sending my friends to the gallows. They're innocent."
"The jury, not I, decides a man's innocent or guilty," the judge explained sternly. "My apologies, son."
"But you can give them a new trial," Jack continued, the desperation evident in his voice.
Parrish now appeared agitated. "If the case warrants a new trial, I'm sure your friends' attorney will bring the matter before the court in due order. I can't discuss this with you." Parrish turned away from Jack and walked the other man out.
"But you're railroading them. That's what you're doing," Jack pressed on, following them. "Railroading them!"
The door slammed in his face. Jack hung his head in defeat and left the lobby, watching the two men descend the front steps and shake hands in front of a waiting carriage.
Frustrated, Jack grabbed a rock on the ground and wound back, launching it at the carriage and smashing a window. He immediately took off.
"Stop him!" The passenger peered through the broken glass. "Stop that boy!"
As he ran, Jack could hear a policeman's whistle nearby. Jack looked over his shoulder in the direction of the whistle, only to be grabbed by another cop in front of him. By this time, the other officers had caught up and began dragging him down to the stationhouse, with Jack protesting he was innocent all the while.
Sophie stared angrily out the window of the Mulberry Street precinct as Jack sat slumped over in a chair, his head in his hands.
"Tried all day to get the judge to listen to me," Jack was saying to his unusually quiet sister. "Let me explain. He said he couldn't do anything. Said it was up to the governor."
"It's true, Jack," Sophie said, turning away from the window finally. "There's nothing he can do."
"Alright, so nobody can do anything except sit and wait and look at the clock and let it happen," Jack demanded, looking up from his hands. "When it's over, forget about them."
Sophie said nothing.
Jack stomped his foot against the ground hard several times, burying his face again. "Well, I won't let it happen! I'm gonna make Snyder pay!"
"That kind of talk isn't going to help," Sophie mumbled.
"No," Jack sniffled, straightening a little. "But it's better than taking it lying down. And I'm not gonna wait."
Sophie ran her fingers through his hair gently.
"Soph, what do you think they're gonna do to me this time?" Jack asked quietly.
"I don't know, Jack," she said, walking away.
"They can't pin anything on me," Jack said to himself. "I look like a lot of people. Dammit, anyone could break a carriage window, you know that!" He shouted, turning to Sophie.
The girl smoothed the wrinkles of her dress. "But you had to pick a carriage with a judge in it," she answered.
She watched Jack wither again and came around to where he sat, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and kissing his head. Without knowing what else to do, she quietly left the room before she could say something she didn't mean.
Outside the precinct, Sophie noticed a familiar group of hoodlums sauntering her way: Fleet, Shakespeare, Cards, Lion, and Crazy.
Sophie held up a hand, halting Cards by the arm, which stopped the lot of them. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Oh, we just thought we'd drop around and see Jack, that's all, baby sis," Cards replied with a slow smile. "Fleet saw the whole thing."
"The less you see of Jack the better," Sophie grumbled.
The boys looked taken aback.
"Hey, we ain't never done nothin' to Jack," Lion said, sounding offended.
"What do you mean, Sophie?" Shakespeare asked.
"We just came to see him," Fleet added. "Jack's our friend."
Crazy folded his arms. "We just feel sorry for the kid 'on account of he got in trouble."
Sophie's façade didn't falter. "Yeah, I know. Go on being sorry and stay away from him," she said, pushing past the pack and storming away.
They watched her go, dumbfounded.
"That's a fine thing to kick a guy when he's down," Cards said, shaking his head in confusion.
"Yeah," Shakespeare replied. "Especially when he's down in the arms of the law."
"That's just like a girl," Lion mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Come on."
Cards, Lion, and Shakespeare went inside the precinct, while Fleet and Crazy waited outside, leaning against the brick wall to have a smoke.
Cards and Lion huddled in the doorway, somewhat nervous to go in given their record with cops. Shakespeare shoved them along, leading the way to the captain's desk.
The captain – Clancy – looked up from his desk, a bit startled to see the three of them. At first, he thought they'd broken out of their holding cells.
"Well?" Clancy asked.
"We came to see our brother," Shakespeare said.
"What's your brother's name?"
Shakespeare thought for a moment, wondering if Jack gave them a different name when he'd been taken in. "Why, um…"
Cards kicked him in the leg. "John, you grifter."
Shakespeare nodded, trying to smile at the captain. "Yeah, yeah, that's it. Sorry, I'm sort of nervous. It's the first time anyone in our family has been in trouble like this."
"John what?" Clancy asked, growing impatient.
"Baryshnichenko," Shakespeare blurted without a second thought, sounding hesitant, fumbling over the name.
Clancy looked up from his writing with a puzzled expression. "There's no boy by that name here, young man."
"What?" Cards shouted.
"He's gotta be here," Shakespeare protested.
"He ain't nowhere else," Lion frowned as he approached the desk with the others.
Clancy sat back in his chair. "I'm telling you there's no John Barysh…whatever-your-name-is here."
Cards feigned a look of horror. "I bet it's an elaborate plot to keep him in solitary."
"Maybe they're giving him the works now," Lion fretted.
Shakespeare jumped around to the other side of the desk. "They're killing my poor baby brother!" He grabbed the telephone off the wall behind Clancy and spoke into the receiver. "Connect me to the police department! And while I'm waiting, connect me to a funeral home!"
"Hey!" Clancy wrestled the receiver away from Shakespeare and put it back on its hook. "What're you beggars up to?"
"What are we up to?" Cards repeated, amping up the performance. "What are we up to? I ain't waiting here no longer! What did you do to John Belitzajenko? What did you do to him?"
Shakespeare kept trying to grab the phone again while Clancy fought him off.
"You'll break my mother's heart," Lion began crying, putting on a performance that was a little too convincing. "Our sweet little brother. He shouldn't have to do time. He's a good boy. Hardly ever swears at home."
"You're stalling!" Cards shouted at Clancy. "Tell us where he is! Where have you got him locked up?"
Clancy elbowed Shakespeare away from his desk, as Lion continued to break down.
"He's never even seen a burlesque show," Lion wept, hiding his face in his hands. "He's just a baby!"
"I ain't telling my poor dying mother her youngest is going to jail!" Shakespeare insisted in Clancy's face.
"I will flip this desk if you don't tell us where he is!" Cards yelled.
"He was supposed to go into the seminary!" Lion continued, somehow producing real tears.
"Roundsman Maloney!" Clancy yelled over the boys, craning his neck into the station. "Maloney!"
The officer marched into the room, pushing past those who'd stopped what they were doing to watch the ordeal. "Now what's this all about?" Maloney asked, holding up his hands.
Outside, Crazy and Fleet made their way over to the side of the building. They glanced up at the second-floor office window, where Jack was waiting to be questioned.
Fleet whistled several times while Crazy looked around, making sure no one was paying attention.
Jack appeared at the open window curiously, spotting the two down below. "Fleet? Crazy?" He called down to them in shock.
Crazy looked up with a wink, producing a rope from behind his back and began to unravel it.
"Hurry, fellas," Jack whispered, anxiously looking behind him. He slid one leg out the window. "Toss it up."
Finally, Crazy threw the other end up to Jack, who caught it and disappeared inside.
Once it was fastened, Jack swung his legs out the window and stepped onto the ledge, just wide enough for his feet. He grabbed onto the rope and lowered himself to the ground in expert time.
"You and Crazy cheese it," Fleet said, shoving the two along. "High tail it to Brooklyn or something."
"Okay," Jack nodded, giving Fleet a thankful pat on the back before he ran off behind Crazy.
"If you can keep up!" Crazy shouted over his shoulder, already a good distance ahead of Jack.
In the precinct, the three boys were still making a scene as they were restrained, hollering, and crying and threatening.
Fleet stepped into the room, producing a relaxed smile. He widened his eyes at Cards, nodding with his head toward the street.
Cards stopped struggling, prompting the others to drop the hysterics.
"John, my baby brother!" Lion cried out, running over, and embracing Fleet, kissing both sides of his face as the boy cringed. "At last, you're safe!"
"Thank God!" Shakespeare squeezed Fleet's jaw in his hands, shaking his head. He turned to Clancy and the other officers. "Isn't he just the most precious thing? He ain't never done nothin' to no one."
Cards ran a hand through his hair as the cop released him, walking over and slapping Fleet upside the head. "That's what you get for worryin' Ma sick. What, do you wanna go to Randall's Island? You know what it's like there?"
Fleet wrestled out from the three and plastered on a smile, though his eyes flashed a threat.
"I'm touched," Roundsman Maloney said, shooing them away. "Now get out of here before I lock you all up."
"Thank you, officer," Cards said as they backed out. "You ain't gonna see us no more. I promise."