A Time for Mercy

47

Josie was parked behind the courthouse in a small, shaded gravel lot she had found on Monday. She and Kiera were almost to her car when a man with a gun approached. He was thick-chested, with a short-sleeved shirt, knotted tie, cowboy boots, and a black pistol on his hip. “Are you Josie Gamble?” he demanded. She had seen the type many times before, and he was either a small-town detective or a private investigator.

“I am. Who are you?”

“Name’s Koosman. These papers are for you.” He handed her a legal-sized envelope stuffed with folded papers.

“What is it?” she asked, reluctantly taking the envelope.

“Buncha lawsuits. Sorry.” He turned and walked away. Nothing but a process server.

They had finally found her — the hospitals and doctors and their bill collectors and lawyers. Four lawsuits for unpaid bills: $6,340 to the hospital in Clanton; $9,120 to the hospital in Tupelo; $1,315 to the doctors in Clanton; and $2,100 to the surgeon in Tupelo who reset her jaw. A total of $18,875, plus interest and attorney’s fees of an undetermined amount. All four filed by the same collection lawyer in Holly Springs.

The car was like a sauna and its AC did not work. They rolled down the windows and sped away. Josie was tempted to grab the lawsuits and toss them in a ditch. She had more important things to worry about and she couldn’t remember all the times some shifty collection lawyer had tracked her down.

“How’d I do, Mom?” Kiera asked.

“You were brilliant, baby, just brilliant.”

Brilliant was indeed the verdict as the defense settled around the table in Morris Finley’s rather chilly conference room. For relief, his secretary had turned the thermostat down as low as possible. They ate quickly and savored Kiera’s brilliance and the collapse of the prosecution. Victory was still a long shot, but she had evoked enormous sympathy from the jury. However, the problem was obvious — Kiera wasn’t on trial.

Portia passed around a memo with the names of eleven witnesses and brief descriptions of their expected testimony. The first was Samantha Pace, ex-wife of Stuart Kofer. She now lived in Tupelo and had grudgingly agreed to testify against her ex-husband.

“Why would you call her?” Harry Rex asked with a mouth full of chips.

“To prove he beat her,” Jake said. “I’m not advocating this, Harry Rex, this is just an exercise to make sure we cover everything. This is our witness list, the same one we filed before the trial. Frankly, I’m not sure who to put on next.”

“I’d forget her.”

“I agree,” said Libby. “She might be unpredictable, plus you’ve already proven abuse.”

Lucien was shaking his head.

“Next is Ozzie and three deputies. Pirtle, McCarver, and Swayze could testify about the 911 calls to the house. They saw a battered woman who refused to press charges. They filed paperwork that Ozzie can’t find. Someone, presumably Kofer, filched the incident reports to cover his trail.”

“Portia?”

“I don’t know, Jake. This is already in evidence and I wouldn’t trust the cops right now. They might say something that we’re not expecting.”

“Perfect instincts,” Lucien said. “Leave ’em alone, because you can’t trust ’em on the stand.”

“Carla?”

“Me? I’m just a schoolteacher.”

“Then pretend you’re a juror. You’ve heard every word of testimony.”

“You’ve already proven the domestic abuse, Jake. Why go through it again? I mean, all the jury needs to see is the photo of Josie’s face. A picture is worth a thousand words. Let it go.”

Jake smiled at her, then looked at Harry Rex. “You?”

“Right now these guys are meetin’ with Dyer, who’s tryin’ to figure out some way to save his case. I wouldn’t trust ’em. If you don’t need ’em, don’t call ’em.”

“Lucien?”

“Look, Jake. Your case is as strong right now as it will ever be. There is not a witness on this list who can make it stronger, yet every one of them can be potentially damaging.”

“So the defense rests?”

Lucien nodded slowly and everyone absorbed it. The strategy of resting after calling only two witnesses had not been discussed, had not even been contemplated. And it was frightening. The defense just put plenty of points on the board, and it had more points to add. Walking away with uncalled witnesses seemed like retreating.

Jake looked at the memo and said, “The next four, starting with Dog Hickman, are the drinking buddies who’ll give the down-and-dirty details of Kofer’s last binge. They’re all here, all under subpoena, missing work and pissed off. Libby?”

“I’m sure they’ll be good for some comic relief, but do we really need them? Dr. Majeski’s testimony is much more powerful. The point-three-six BAC has been seared into the brains of the jurors and they’ll never forget it.”

“Harry Rex?”

“Agreed. You can’t be sure what these clowns might say. I’ve read your summaries and all. They’re pretty stupid and they still think they might be implicated. Plus they’ll always be sympathetic to their buddy. I’d leave ’em alone.”

Jake took a deep breath and looked at his list. “We’re running out of ammo,” he said under his breath.

“You don’t need anymore,” Lucien said.

“Dr. Christina Rooker. She examined Drew four days after the shooting. You’ve read her report. She’s ready to testify about his trauma and what an emotional and mental wreck he was. I’ve spent hours with her and she will make an impressive witness. Libby?”

“Don’t know. Still undecided about this one.”

“Lucien?”

“There’s a huge problem—”

Jake interrupted with, “And the problem is that, by putting Drew’s mental state into issue, Dyer can then call a carload of shrinks from Whitfield to rebut anything and declare him perfectly sound, both now and on March twenty-fifth. Dyer has three of them on his witness list and we’ve researched them, tracked down their testimonies. They’re always in lockstep with the State. Hell, they work for the State.”

Lucien smiled and said, “Exactly. You can’t win that fight, so don’t start it.”

“Anybody else?” Jake looked around the room and met the gaze of every member of his team. “Carla, you’re the juror.”

“Oh, I’m hardly unbiased.”

“But how many of the twelve will vote to convict Drew right now?”

“Several. But not all.”

“Portia?”

“Agreed.”

“Libby?”

“My record at predicting verdicts is less than spectacular, but I don’t see a conviction, nor an acquittal.”

“Lucien?”

He took a sip of water and stood to stretch his back. He walked to the end of the room as everyone watched and waited. He turned and said, “That girl’s testimony is the most dramatic moment I’ve ever witnessed in a courtroom. It surpasses even your closing argument in the Hailey trial. Now, if you call more witnesses, then Dyer calls more in rebuttal. Time passes, memories begin to fade, the drama lessens somewhat. You want those jurors to go home tonight and think about Kiera — young, pregnant Kiera — not some bozos drinking moonshine, not some fancy shrink with a big vocabulary, not some county deputy trying to cover for a fallen comrade. You have Dyer on the ropes, Jake; don’t make a mistake and let him wiggle free.”

The room was silent as they weighed his words. After a moment, Jake asked, “Anybody disagree?”

Eyes met eyes as they studied each other, but no one spoke.

Jake finally said, “And if we rest, then the State is done because there is nothing to rebut. Dyer will be surprised. We’ll immediately go to the jury instructions, which we’ll have ready but he won’t. Then we’ll do our closing arguments, and I’m guessing his is not quite ready. Resting this early is another ambush.”

“I love it!” Harry Rex said.

“But is it fair?” Carla asked.

“At this point, everything is fair,” Harry Rex said with a laugh.

“Yes, dear, it’s quite fair. Either side can rest with no warning to the other.”

Lucien sat down, and Jake looked at him for a long time. The others waited as they finished their chips and tea and wondered what was next. Finally, Jake asked, “And Drew? Would you put him on?”

“Never,” Harry Rex said.

“I’ve spent hours with him, Harry Rex. He can do it.”

“Dyer will eat him alive because he’s guilty, Jake. He pulled the damn trigger.”

“And he won’t deny it. But he has some zingers ready for Dyer, just like his sister. I mean, ‘I was being raped by the police’ might go down in history. Lucien?”

“I rarely put the defendant on the stand, but this kid looks so young, so harmless. It’s your call, Jake. I haven’t spent time with him.”

Carla said, “Well, I have, many hours, and I believe Drew is ready. He can tell a powerful story. He’s just a boy who’s had a hard life. I think most of the jurors will show a little mercy.”

“I agree,” Libby said softly.

With that, Jake glanced at his watch and said, “There’s plenty of time. Let’s all stand down. Carla and I need to take a long drive. Meeting adjourned.”

Judge Noose sent word through his bailiff to Ozzie who was waiting for the Kofers when they returned to the courthouse. A meeting was offered, and at 1:45 Earl, Janet, Barry, and Cecil walked into the empty and somewhat cooler courtroom, and found His Honor, robeless and sitting not on the bench but in the jury box, rocking in a comfortable chair with his bailiff nearby. Ozzie led them through the bar and they stopped in front of the judge.

Earl seemed angry, even belligerent. Janet looked thoroughly defeated, as if she had given up the fight.

“You disrupted my courtroom,” Noose said sternly. “That is unacceptable.”

“Well, Judge, we’re just sick of the damned lies, that’s all,” Earl said, as if ready for a fight.

Noose pointed a crooked finger and said, “Watch your language, sir. Right now I’m not concerned with the lawyers and witnesses. It’s your behavior that bothers me. You caused a disturbance, had to be escorted out, and threatened one of my lawyers. I could hold you in contempt right now and have you jailed. Do you realize that?”

Earl did not. His shoulders sagged and his attitude vanished. He’d accepted the invitation to this little meeting because he had a thing or two to tell the judge, without a passing thought about going to jail.

His Honor continued, “Now, here’s the question. Do you want to watch the rest of this trial?”

All four nodded, yes. Janet wiped her cheeks again.

“Okay. That third row over there behind the prosecutor will be reserved for you. Mr. Kofer, I want you to take the aisle seat. If I hear another sound or if you disturb my proceedings in any way, I’ll have you taken out again, and with consequences. Understand?”

“Sure,” Earl said.

“Yes sir,” Barry grunted.

Janet dabbed her eyes.

“All right. We have an understanding.” Noose leaned forward and relaxed. The heavy work was over. “Please allow me to say this. I am very sorry for your loss and I’ve prayed for you since I heard the news. We are not supposed to bury our children. I met your son briefly one day in court in Clanton, so I can’t claim any friendship, but he seemed like a fine young officer. As this trial has progressed, I have felt sympathy for you as you sit out there and hear some terrible things said about your son. I’m sure it’s just awful. However, we cannot change the facts, or the allegations. Trials are often messy and ugly. For that, I am sorry.”

They were not prepared to respond, nor were they the kind of people who could simply say “Thanks.”

As Jake and Carla ducked through a rear door of the main courthouse building, Dumas Lee popped up from nowhere and said, “Hello, Jake, got time for a question?”

“Hello, Dumas,” Jake said politely. They had known each other for ten years and the guy was just doing his job. “Sorry, Dumas, but I can’t talk. Judge Noose has told the lawyers to shut up.”

“A gag order?”

“No, a shut-up order, issued in chambers.”

“Will your client testify?”

“No comment. Come on, Dumas.”

That morning’s weekly edition of the Times had neglected all county news except for the trial. The entire front page was covered with photos — Jake entering the courthouse, Dyer doing the same, the defendant exiting a patrol car in a coat and tie and duly shackled. Dumas wrote two long articles, one about the alleged crime and all the players, one about jury selection. To embarrass a neighboring county, the editor even included a bad photo of the old courthouse. The caption under it described it as “built in the last century and in need of renovation.”

“Later, Dumas,” Jake said as he led Carla down a hallway.

The news vans were gone. The Tupelo paper ran a short front-page story on Tuesday. Jackson ran the same story on page three. Memphis wasn’t interested.