The crowd was silent. Go Theo.
“Eminent domain is to be used only in extreme cases. And this is not one of them. This bypass is not crucial to our lives here in Strattenburg. In fact, life will go on here just the same without the bypass. It might benefit a few, but the vast majority of us will never know the difference. So, under our laws, this project is not crucial. Therefore, the government cannot take property using eminent domain. And why should the government?” A slight pause for dramatic effect. He just remembered a great line—something he’d read in a Supreme Court case. “Just because the government is big enough, strong enough, rich enough, and powerful enough, doesn’t mean it has the right to take land from its citizens.”
This landed perfectly and the crowd reacted with another boisterous round of approval.
Theo had found his rhythm, his traction, and for a brief moment he relished being in the spotlight. He shifted his weight, like all good lawyers do in court when addressing the jury, and he wished he could pace, back and forth, but he was stuck behind the mike. He continued looking at Mr. Cerroni’s friendly face and said, “You’ve already heard from Reverend Quinn, who described their family’s farm. Well, I’ve been there. Hardie Quinn is my friend and one of the kids behind the video. He’s grown up on the family farm, a beautiful one-hundred-acre piece of land that every one of us would love to live on. It has everything—thick forests for hunting, springs and creeks for fishing, the river for rafting, open pastures for growing hay, miles and miles of trails for hiking and horseback riding. There is a tree house, a barn, a stable, a toolshed, a cemetery, and an old country house where the Quinn family gathers every holiday and on most weekends. On the front porch, hundreds of Quinns have gathered over the years to drink iced tea and talk about life. In the backyard, they’ve had weddings, funerals, and a pig roast every Fourth of July. Imagine, just imagine, the State Highway Department reducing it all to rubble with a bunch of bulldozers. That would be wrong.” Several in the crowd agreed and voiced their approval.
All five commissioners were staring at Theo, hanging on every word. He threw another punch with, “That would be an abuse of power.”
He changed gears, raised his voice, and said, “Now, the smart folks who designed this bypass think it’s a good idea to reroute twenty-five thousand vehicles a day alongside an elementary school and a soccer complex. At least ten thousand of these will be large trucks with diesel engines. Since no one has bothered to conduct an accurate study of how much the air will be polluted, we don’t, excuse me, you don’t know what you’re talking about. No one does. It seems to me though, and I’m a kid lawyer and not a kid scientist, that the last place you would want to build a busy four-lane road is right next to a school.”
Hardie, Woody, Chase, and April were standing behind Theo, and on cue they began coughing and gagging. The rest caught on quickly, and for about thirty seconds the entire yellow horde shook and gyrated and bent double in an exaggerated display of the effects of diesel contamination.
Mr. Stak finally raised his hand and said, patiently, “Okay, okay.” The coughing and gagging stopped immediately. The crowd was greatly amused, as were most of the commissioners and their assistants.
Theo continued, “Fortunately, my school is not close to the proposed bypass, but let me tell you a little about my school. In the past two months, my school has been forced to cut programs, lay off part-time workers, fire coaches, janitors, and cafeteria workers, and cancel trips. Every school in our district has done this. Why? Budget cuts. Not enough revenue. And it’s not just the schools. Our police and fire departments have laid off employees. We’ve had cuts in street maintenance, garbage collection, parks and recreation, in every single department. You know that because you’ve been forced to cut the county’s budget.” Another pause as he looked up for the kill. “How can you, as leaders of our community, cut budgets one day and then vote to approve a bypass to nowhere that will cost two hundred million dollars?”
The crowd roared instantly and within seconds many of those cheering were on their feet. The ovation went on and on and gathered steam, and Theo took a step backward. Mr. Stak raised his hand for order but he was ignored. What was he going to do anyway? Arrest several hundred people at one time? Wisely, he sat grim-faced and listened to the roar. During one brief second, he locked eyes with Theo, and both knew the truth.
Theo realized his little off-the-cuff speech had reached its peak. Mr. Mount always said it’s best to quit when you’re ahead. Many speakers lose their audience by going on too long. Plus, Theo was so relieved to have made it this far, and he really had nothing left. When the crowd finally settled down, he stepped back to the microphone and said, “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Boone,” Mr. Stak said. It was almost midnight. The last speaker had just spoken. There was nothing left on the agenda but a vote on the bypass. It was obvious the crowd was not leaving until the commissioners voted. The kids in yellow did not return to their seats. Instead, they bunched even closer together around the podium and up the aisles, as close to the commissioners as they could get. They locked arms and sat on the floor.
“You guys can go back to your seats,” Mr. Stak said, but the kids shook their heads. They weren’t budging.
From the back, a loudmouth stood up and yelled, “We want a vote!” This immediately led to another deafening round of “We want a vote!! We want a vote!!” The walls shook and the windows rattled and the commissioners looked aggravated and confused. They wanted to huddle in a back room, as was their usual custom, and work out a deal before going public. But not tonight, not at this moment. There was nothing to do but vote.
Mr. Stak raised his hand again and finally brought the crowd under control. He said, “Very well, under the rules of this commission, it is now necessary that we take a vote. Madame Secretary, will you call the roll?”
At the end of their long table, the secretary said, “Certainly. All five commissioners are present and voting. The vote will be a simple Yes to approve the bypass and No if you do not approve the project. Approval is by a simple majority. Mr. Stak?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Grimes?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Cerroni?”
“No.”
“Mr. McGray?”
Mr. McGray was rubbing his white whiskers, troubled and deep in thought. With a scratchy voice he finally said, “No.”
Theo was sitting on the floor in front of the podium, arm in arm with Hardie and April, and it seemed as though every kid around him was holding his or her breath. At that tense moment, things did not look good. The vote was tied 2–2, with only Mr. Klasko remaining, and he had given the clear impression he wanted the bypass.
“Mr. Klasko?”
Mr. Klasko’s spine stiffened and his head jerked back. He ran a hand over his mouth, fidgeted, seemed to be short of breath, and finally managed to blurt, “Abstain.”
Mitchell Stak and Lucas Grimes shot panicked looks at Buddy Klasko, who wasn’t looking at anyone. He was gazing at a distant window, obviously wanting to jump through it. The crowd gasped and mumbled and no one seemed certain of the vote.