A Time for Mercy

12

The only child psychologist working for the state in north Mississippi was too busy to return phone calls. Jake assumed this meant that a request, if somehow made, that she drop everything and hustle over to the jail in Clanton would not be well received. There were no such specialists in private practice in Ford County, or anywhere else in the Twenty-second Judicial District for that matter, and it took Portia two hours on the phone to finally locate one in Oxford, an hour to the west.

On Wednesday morning, Jake talked to him briefly before the guy said he could evaluate Drew in a couple of weeks, and in his office, not at the jail. He did not make house calls. Nor did the two in Tupelo, though the second one, a Dr. Christina Rooker, warmed up quickly when she recognized the identity of the potential patient. She had read about the murder of the officer and was intrigued by what Jake told her on the phone. He described Drew’s condition, appearance, behavior, and near catatonic state. Dr. Rooker agreed that the situation was urgent and agreed to see him the following day, Thursday, in her office in Tupelo, not at the jail in Clanton.

Lowell Dyer objected to Drew’s leaving for any reason, as did Ozzie. Judge Noose was hearing motions at the Polk County Courthouse in Smithfield. Jake drove forty-five minutes south, walked into the courtroom, and waited until some rather long-winded lawyers finished their bickering and His Honor had a few moments to spare. In chambers, Jake again described his client’s condition, explained that Dr. Rooker felt the matter was urgent, and insisted that the kid be allowed out of the jail for an examination. He posed no safety or flight risk. Hell, he was barely capable of feeding himself. Jake finally convinced the judge that the ends of justice would be served by getting the defendant some immediate medical help.

“And her fee is five hundred dollars,” he added on his way out of the door.

“For a two-hour consultation?”

“That’s what she said. I promised her we, the State, because you and I are now on its payroll, right, would cover it. And that brings up the matter of my fees.”

“We’ll discuss them later, Jake. I have lawyers waiting.”

“Thanks, Judge. I’ll call Lowell and Ozzie and they’ll bitch and cuss and probably come crying to you.”

“That’s part of my job. I’m not worried about them.”

“I’ll tell Ozzie that you want him to drive the kid to Tupelo. He’ll like that.”

“Whatever.”

“And I’m filing a motion to transfer the case to youth court.”

“Please wait until there’s an indictment.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t waste a lot of time on the motion.”

“Is that because you don’t plan to waste a lot of time with it?”

“That’s correct, Jake.”

“Well, thanks for the candor.”

“As always.”

At eight o’clock Thursday morning, Drew Gamble was led to a small dark room and told by the jailer that it was time for a shower. He had declined earlier requests and needed a good scrubbing. He was given a bar of soap and a towel and told to hurry, there was a five-minute limit on showers throughout the jail, and also warned that the hot water, if any, would last for only the first two minutes. He closed the door, stripped, and tossed out his soiled clothing, which the jailer collected and took to the laundry. When Drew was finished, he was given the smallest orange jumpsuit available and a pair of well-used rubber shower shoes, also orange in color, and taken back to his cell where he declined a plate of eggs and bacon. Instead, he munched on peanuts and drank a soda. As usual, he did not speak to the jailers even when spoken to. They had at first assumed their prisoner had some serious attitude but soon realized that his mind was functioning at a very low level. One whispered to another, “His light’s barely on but nobody’s home.”

Jake arrived just before nine with two dozen fresh doughnuts that he passed around the jail in an effort to score points with old friends who now viewed him as an enemy. A few were taken but most were ignored. He left one box at the front desk and walked back to the jail. Alone with Drew in his cell, he offered his client a doughnut, and, to his surprise, he ate two of them. The sugar seemed to jack up his energy and he asked, “Is something going on today, Jake?”

“Yes. You’re taking a trip to Tupelo to see a doctor.”

“I’m not sick, am I?”

“We’ll let the doctor decide that. She’ll ask you a lot of questions about yourself and your family, and where you’ve lived and all that, and you need to tell the truth and answer to the best of your ability.”

“Is she a shrink or something?”

The use of the word “shrink” caught Jake off guard. “She’s a psychiatrist.”

“Oh, a shrink. I’ve met one or two before.”

“Really? Where?”

“They put me in jail one time, in the juvenile pen, and I had to see a shrink once a week. It was a waste of time.”

“But I’ve asked you twice if you’ve ever been to juvenile court and you said no.”

“I don’t remember you asking me that. Sorry.”

“Why were you in the juvenile pen?”

Drew took another bite of a doughnut and thought about the question. “And you’re my lawyer, right?”

“This is the fifth straight day I’ve come here to the jail to talk to you. Only your lawyer would do that, right?”

“I really want to see my mom.”

Jake breathed deeply and told himself to be patient, something he did with every visit. “Your mother had surgery yesterday, they reset her jaw, and she’s doing fine. You can’t see her now but I’m sure they’ll allow her to come here for a visit.”

“I thought she was dead.”

“I know you did, Drew.” Jake heard voices in the hall and looked at his watch. “Here’s the drill. The sheriff will drive you to Tupelo. You’ll sit in the backseat, probably alone, and you are not to say a word to anyone else in the car. Understand?”

“You’re not going?”

“I’ll be in my car behind you, and I’ll be there when you meet the doctor. Just don’t say anything to the sheriff or his deputies, okay?”

“Will they talk to me?”

“I doubt it.”

The door opened and Ozzie barged in with Moss Junior behind him. Jake stood and offered a terse “Mornin’ gentlemen,” but they only nodded. Moss Junior unsnapped the cuffs from his belt and said to Drew, “Stand up please.”

Jake asked, “Does he have to wear handcuffs? I mean, he’s not going anywhere.”

“We know our job, Jake, same as you,” Ozzie said like a real smart-ass.

“Why can’t he wear street clothes? Look, Ozzie, he’s going for a psychiatric evaluation, and sitting there in an orange jumpsuit will not help matters.”

“Back off, Jake.”

“I’m not backing off. I’ll call Judge Noose.”

“You do that.”

The jailer said, “He doesn’t have any extra clothes. Just one change, and it’s in the laundry.”

Jake looked at the jailer and asked, “You don’t allow the kids to have any clothes?”

Ozzie said, “He’s not a kid, Jake. He was in circuit court last time I checked.”

To benefit nothing, Moss Junior said, “They burned all his clothes. Same for his mother and sister.”

Drew shuddered and took a deep breath.

Jake looked at Drew, then looked at Moss Junior and asked, “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re askin’ ’bout more clothes. Ain’t got ’em.”

Ozzie said, “Let’s go.”

Every office had leaks, and Ozzie had been burned on occasion. The last thing he wanted was a front-page photo of him trying to sneak the accused killer out for a visit to a psychiatrist. His car was waiting behind the jail, with Looney and Swayze standing guard and prepared to shoot any reporter they saw. The getaway went smoothly, and as Jake raced to keep up with them in his Saab, he could barely see the top of Drew’s blond hair in the rear seat.

Dr. Rooker’s office was one of a dozen in a professional office building not far from downtown Tupelo. As directed, Ozzie turned into a service drive behind the building and was met by two marked patrol cars from the Lee County sheriff’s department. He parked, got out, left Moss Junior in the front seat to guard the defendant, and went inside with the local deputies to check out the premises. Jake remained in his car, not far from Ozzie’s, and waited. What else could he do? Driving over, he had called Portia who had called the hospital for information about Josie Gamble. Portia had learned nothing and was waiting for a return call from a nurse.

Half an hour dragged by. Moss Junior finally got out and lit a cigarette, and Jake walked over for a chat. He glanced into the rear seat and saw Drew lying down with his knees pulled to his chest.

Jake nodded at him and asked, “Did he say much?”

“Not a word, nothin’, course we didn’t pry. That’s a sick puppy, Jake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you heard that hummin’ sound he does? Just sits there with his eyes closed and sorta hums and groans at the same time, like he’s in another world.”

“I’ve heard it.”

Moss blew a cloud of smoke at the sky and shifted weight from his right foot to his left. “Can he get off ’cause he’s crazy, Jake?”

“So that’s what’s going around?”

“Oh yeah. Folks think you’ll get him off like you did Carl Lee, by sayin’ he’s insane.”

“Well, folks have to say something, don’t they, Moss?”

“That they do, yes. But that ain’t right, Jake.” He cleared his throat and spat near the bumper as if disgusted. “Folks are gonna be upset, Jake, and I hate to see you take the blame.”

“I’m just a temp, Moss. Noose has promised to find somebody else if it goes all the way to a trial.”

“Is that where it’s goin’?”

“Don’t know. I’m pinch-hitting till there’s an indictment and something gets put on a calendar, then I’ll bail.”

“That’s good to hear. This might get nasty before it’s over.”

“It’s already nasty.”

Ozzie was back with the other deputies. He spoke to Moss Junior who opened a rear door and asked Drew to step out. They quickly escorted him inside the building and Jake followed along.

In a small conference room, Dr. Rooker was waiting and introduced herself to Jake. They had spoken on the phone several times and the introduction was brief. She was tall and slender, with bright red hair that was probably not natural, and she wore funky reading glasses of many colors that were perched on the tip of her nose. She was about fifty, older than any of the men and thoroughly unintimidated by any of them. This was her office, her show.

Once Ozzie felt the defendant was secure, he excused himself and said he and Moss Junior would be waiting down the hall. It was clear that Dr. Rooker did not like the idea of armed men waiting in her quiet little office suite, but under the circumstances she went along. It was not every day that she talked to a man, or a kid, who was charged with capital murder.

Drew looked even smaller in the oversized jumpsuit. The rubber shower shoes looked ridiculous and were several sizes too large. They barely touched the floor as he sat with his hands folded in his lap, chin down, eyes on the floor, as if too frightened to acknowledge those around him.

Jake said, “Drew, this is Dr. Rooker, and she is here to help you.”

With effort, he nodded at her, then looked back at the floor.

Jake said, “I’ll be here for just a moment, then I’ll disappear. I’m going to ask you to listen to her carefully and answer her questions. She’s on our side, Drew. Do you understand?”

He nodded and slowly lifted his eyes to the wall above Jake’s head, as if he heard something up there and didn’t like it. A slow, mournful groan came out, but he said nothing. As frightening as it was, Jake wanted the kid to start his incessant humming again. Dr. Rooker needed to hear it and evaluate it, if that was possible.

“How old are you, Drew?” she asked.

“Sixteen.”

“And when is your birthday?”

“February the tenth.”

“So last month. Did you have a party on your birthday?”

“No.”

“Did you have birthday cake?”

“No.”

“Did your friends at school know it was your birthday?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Who is your mother?”

“Josie.”

“And you have a sister, right?”

“Right. Kiera.”

“And there’s nobody else in your family?”

He shook his head.

“No grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?”

He kept shaking his head.

“How about your father?”

His eyes were suddenly wet and he wiped them on an orange sleeve. “Don’t know him.”

“Have you ever known your father?”

He shook his head.

She estimated his height at five feet and his weight at a hundred pounds. There was no visible muscle development. His voice was high, soft, still childlike. There was no facial hair, no acne, nothing to indicate that the middle stages of puberty had arrived.

He closed his eyes again and began rocking, slightly, leaning forward from the waist, then easing back.

She touched his knee and asked, “Drew, are you afraid of something right now?”

He began to hum in that same steady emission that at times sounded more like a soft growl. They listened to him for a moment, exchanged glances, and then she asked, “Drew, why do you make that noise?”

The only response was more of the same. She withdrew her hand, glanced at her watch, and relaxed as if they might be a while. A minute passed, then two. After five, she nodded at Jake and he quietly left the room.

The hospital was not far away. Jake found Ms. Gamble in a second-floor semi-private room shared with what appeared to be a corpse but was, as it turned out, a ninety-six-year-old man who had just received a new kidney. At ninety-six?

Kiera had secured a small foldout bed and it was tucked next to her mother’s. They had been there for two nights and would be leaving in the afternoon. Where they were headed was still undecided.

Josie looked awful with a swollen and bruised face, but she was in good spirits and claimed to be free of pain. The surgery had gone well, all the bones were accounted for and rearranged, and she didn’t have to see a doctor for a week.

Jake settled into a chair at the foot of her bed and asked if they wanted to talk. What else did they have to do until discharged? A friendly nurse brought him a cup of hospital coffee and pulled the curtain so the corpse couldn’t hear them. They spoke in low voices and Jake explained where Drew was and what was happening. For a moment Josie was hopeful she might be able to see him since he was just around the corner, but realized neither was in any condition for a visit. The sheriff wouldn’t allow it and Drew was headed back to jail in short order.

Jake said, “I’m not sure how long I’ll be your lawyer. As I explained, the judge gave me a temporary appointment to handle the preliminary matters, and he plans to find someone else later.”

“Why can’t you be our lawyer?” Josie asked. Her words were slow and difficult, but clear enough for a conversation.

“I am, for now. We’ll see what happens later.”

Kiera, who was shy and had trouble keeping eye contact, said, “Mr. Callison from our church said you’re the best lawyer in the county, said we’re lucky to have you.”

Jake had not expected to be backed into a corner by his clients and forced to explain why he didn’t want them. He certainly couldn’t, and wouldn’t, admit that Drew’s case was so toxic he was worried about his own reputation. In all likelihood, he would live in Clanton for the rest of his life and try to make a decent living. The Gambles would probably be gone in a few months. But how could he explain this to two people staying in a hospital with no home, no clothing, no money, and the frightening prospect of their son and brother facing the death penalty? At the moment, he was their only protection. The church folks could provide food and comfort, but that was temporary.

He tried to duck with “Well, Mr. Callison is a very nice man, but there are a lot of good lawyers around here. The judge will probably pick someone with experience in juvenile matters.”

Jake felt guilty at his own bullshit. It wasn’t a juvenile matter and would never become one, and there were only a handful of lawyers in north Mississippi with capital trial experience. And Jake knew damned well that all of them would be hiding from their telephones in the days to come. No one wanted a dead-cop case in a small town. Harry Rex was right. The case had already become a liability and would only get worse.

Armed with a yellow legal pad, Jake managed to steer the conversation away from his representation and into the family’s history. Without asking about Josie’s past, he pried into their other addresses, other homes, other towns. How did they end up in rural Ford County? Where had they lived before, and before that?

At times Kiera remembered details, and at other times she drifted away and seemed to lose interest. One moment she was engaged, the next she was frightened and withdrawn. She was a pretty girl, tall for her age, with deep brown eyes and long dark hair. She looked nothing like her brother, and no one would have guessed that she was two years younger.

The more Jake probed, the more he became convinced that she too had been traumatized. Perhaps not by Stuart Kofer, but by other people who’d had the opportunity over the years. She had lived with relatives, in two foster homes, in an orphanage, in a camper, under an overpass, in a homeless shelter. The deeper he dug, the sadder their story became, and after an hour he’d had enough.

He said goodbye with the promise to check on Drew and to see them again as soon as possible.