The Boy Who Wouldn’t Apologize
At the juvenile court hearing, the defense attorney asked, “Did Benjamin ever deny damaging the phone?”
“No,” I replied.
“Did he tell you why?”
“No.”
Tyler’s parents sat across the aisle, his mother holding photographs of the broken phone.
I noticed she kept them facing outward.
Ben’s mother, Clara, sat with her handbag on her knees.
I’d often seen Ben carry it up the school steps for her.
He was always carrying something for someone.
I wondered what he’d carried that Wednesday.
The judge turned toward him.
“Benjamin, do you acknowledge kicking and damaging Tyler’s phone?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And do you understand that you may be responsible for replacing it?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge asked whether a restorative resolution might be possible.
“Would you be willing to apologize?”
Ben straightened.
“I’ll pay for the phone. I’ll accept whatever consequence is appropriate.”
He paused.
“But I won’t apologize to Tyler.”
Clara lowered her head.
“Benjamin,” the judge said, “I’d like you to reconsider.”
“No, sir.”
“Can you explain why?”
Ben stared at the table.
“I can’t.”
A chair scraped near the back.
“Your Honor, please!”
I turned.
A girl stood beside the last row.
She had dark hair, a blue cardigan, and a phone gripped in both hands.
I recognized her from the school’s community youth program.
Ellie.
She wasn’t even enrolled in my class.
“Young lady, please sit down,” the judge said.
“But you haven’t seen what happened!”
Ben turned sharply.
“Ellie, don’t.”
She looked at him.
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
May you like
Then she faced the judge again.
“Please. Before you decide what happened, you need to see this.”
