Page 32 of Burning Justice

Briefly, he pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, then, in a slightly hoarse voice, said, “After that, I became angry and started acting out, got into fights and was suspended from school. I know now that I had PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and that my behavior was an unspoken cry for help. Luckily for me, I had people there—my family—who recognized it for what it was. The only things that kept me from landing in jail for one thing or another were their support and good counseling. Gavin Aldrich didn’t have the luxury of family support, and judging by what’s happened, I’d say he never received adequate counseling.”

Just that morning, Gemma had sensed there was something about Brett’s backstory he wasn’t telling her. Now she understood why. For him to bare his soul and relive that horrible fire in a courtroom must be incredibly difficult. He was doing it for Gavin. Was this what the public defender had been hoping Brett would say? How could Manning have known?

She looked at Gavin’s attorney. His brows had lowered, and from the shocked look on his face, he hadn’t known this was coming. Not all of it, anyway.

“Your Honor is aware of Mr. Aldrich’s history?” Brett asked.

“Yes, yes.” The judge nodded but kept one eye on her laptop. “I am.”

“What you may not be aware of,” Brett said, his voice taking on an undeniable air of authority, “is that youth arson is more common and more widespread than most people realize. It’s a nationwide problem that’s gone under the radar for too long. Offenders are often charged with malicious mischief or juvenile delinquency. Forty percent of the people arrested for arson last year were under eighteen.”

Brett paused, for effect no doubt, and it was working. The judge had stopped focusing on her laptop and was now giving him the attention his words deserved.

“Some youth arsonists,” he continued, “are as young as six years old. Parents often don’t seek professional help for fear of having their child on record as an arsonist. Most of these fires are declared as accidental, when really, it’s a symptom of a deeper problem, a way to draw attention to a severe stress in their lives. What Gavin Aldrich went through as a teenager was about as stressful as it gets.”

“I understand where you’re going with this,” the judge replied. “But that stressor, Mr. Aldrich’s father, has been dead for four years.”

“Even though his father is dead, the neglect and abuse Gavin suffered at the hands of that man led to fire as an emotional outlet that still exists today, because no one helped him.”

“Agent Tanner,” Judge Tafoya said in a sympathetic voice. “Mr. Aldrich was institutionalized for two years. He’s still setting fires.”

Brett’s jaw clenched. “And he still needs help. Whatever counseling they gave him in that institution didn’t work. Incarcerating him in prison won’t work, either. It may get him off the streets, but it won’t address the problem. It won’t get him the help he really needs.”

“What makes you think institutionalizing him again will work this time?” the judge asked.

Brett shook his head subtly. “I don’t know. Not for sure. But if you give him the chance, this time, I’ll be there to help. There’s a volunteer program, a companion service. Fire personnel who become friends with youth arsonists can do a lot to bolster a young person’s self-image, help them deal with their issues.”

He turned to look at Gavin Aldrich. “I didn’t go through the horrors of what Gavin did, but I do understand how traumatic experiences can lead to a kid acting out and how that trauma can stay with you years after.”

Had it? Stayed with him?

Gemma had to wonder if Brett had really been able to move past the fire all those years ago or whether that trauma still lingered somewhere in his present. It certainly explained why he’d put his life on the line to try and save those kids last year. It must have been devastating when he couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine ever forgetting something like what Brett or Gavin had endured.

Slowly, Judge Tafoya tapped a finger on the edge of her laptop. The judge had sole power over Gavin’s future. What she would decide was anyone’s guess. Gemma held her breath.

Finally, the judge declared, “Mr. Aldrich, I am directing you to return to the Pine Springs Mental Health Treatment Center for a minimum period of two months, during which time you will submit to additional psychiatric treatment and subsequent evaluation.”

Gemma let out the breath she’d been holding. Brett, also, seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

The moment a new date had been set for Gavin to return to her courtroom, Judge Tafoya pounded her gavel and disappeared into her chambers.

Brett grabbed a folder in front of him, then turned brusquely and shoved open the swinging doors. From the determined look on his face, something was brewing behind those dark blue eyes. He strode quickly to the doors in the back of the courtroom. Before Gemma could catch up to him, he was out the door and in the hallway.

“Are you okay?” she asked when she’d finally caught up to him. He didn’t answer. “Talk to me.” When he didn’t stop, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop, but he stared over her shoulder, seeing but not seeing.

If it were possible, that lean, sculpted jaw clenched even harder. “Can you hit the road today?” he asked when he finally looked at her.

“To the two fire sites? I thought we planned to go tomorrow.”

“I just moved up the timetable. Can you leave today?”

“I guess so. I just have to arrange for my neighbor to feed Jaws, but what’s the hurry?”

“I have a gut feeling about those fires.”

“So do I, but what’s the sense of urgency?” Gemma didn’t like the look on Brett’s face. A light burned behind his eyes, an unhealthy one that left her with the feeling there was still much she didn’t know about what was driving him. “Well?” she prodded when he didn’t answer.

“I don’t want to see any more people die.” He stalked to the exit door and disappeared down the steps.