A Time to Kill

14

Harry Rex Vonner was a huge slob of a lawyer who specialized in nasty divorce cases and perpetually kept some jerk in jail for back child support. He was vile and vicious, and his services were in great demand by divorcing parties in Ford County. He could get the children, the house, the farm, the VCR, and microwave, everything. One wealthy farmer kept him on retainer just so the current wife couldn’t hire him for the next divorce. Harry Rex sent his criminal cases to Jake, and Jake sent his nasty divorces to Harry Rex. They were friends and disliked the other lawyers, especially the Sullivan firm.

Tuesday morning he barged in and growled at Ethel: “Jake in?” He lumbered toward the stairs, glaring at her and daring her to speak. She nodded, knowing better than to ask if he was expected. He had cursed her before. He had cursed everybody before.

The stairway shook as he thundered upward. He was gasping for air as he entered the big office.

“Morning, Harry Rex. You gonna make it?”

“Why don’t you get an office downstairs?” he demanded between breaths.

“You need the exercise. If it weren’t for those stairs your weight would be over three hundred.”

“Thanks. Say, I just came from the courtroom. Noose wants you in chambers at ten-thirty if possible. Wants to talk about Hailey with you and Buckley. Set up arraignment, trial date, all that crap. He asked me to tell you.”

“Good. I’ll be there.”

“I guess you heard about the grand jury?”

“Sure. I’ve got a copy of the indictment right here.”

Harry Rex smiled. “No. No, I mean the vote on the indictment.”

Jake froze and looked at him curiously. Harry Rex moved in silent and dark circles like a cloud over the county. He was an endless source of gossip and rumor, and took great pride in spreading only the truth — most of the time. He was the first to know almost everything. The legend of Harry Rex began twenty years earlier with his first jury trial. The railroad he had sued for millions refused to offer a dime, and after three days of trial the jury retired to deliberate. The railroad lawyers became concerned when the jury failed to return with a quick verdict in their favor. They offered Harry Rex twenty-five thousand to settle when the deliberations went into the second day. With nerves of steel, he told them to go to hell. His client wanted the money. He told his client to go to hell. Hours later a weary and fatigued jury returned with a verdict for one hundred fifty thousand. Harry Rex shot the bird at the railroad lawyers, snubbed his clients and went to the bar at the Best Western. He bought drinks for everyone, and during the course of the long evening explained in detail exactly how he had wired the jury room and knew exactly what the jury was up to. Word spread, and Murphy found a series of wires running through the heating ducts to the jury room. The State Bar Association snooped around, but found nothing. For twenty years the judges had ordered the bailiffs to inspect the jury room when Harry Rex was in any way connected with a case.

“How do you know the vote?” Jake asked, suspicion hanging on every syllable.

“I got sources.”

“Okay, what was the vote?”

“Twelve to six. One fewer vote and you wouldn’t be holding that indictment.”

“Twelve to six,” Jake repeated.

“Buckley near ’bout died. A guy named Crowell, white guy, took charge and almost convinced enough of them not to indict your man.”

“Do you know Crowell?”

“I handled his divorce two years ago. He lived in Jackson until his first wife was raped by a nigger. She went crazy and they got a divorce. She took a steak knife and sliced her wrists. Then he moved to Clanton and married some sleazebag out in the county. Lasted about a year. He ate Buckley’s lunch. Told him to shut up and sit down. I wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Sounds like you did.”

“Naw. Just got a good source.”

“Who?”

“Jake, come on.”

“You been wiring rooms again?”

“Nope. I just listen. That’s a good sign, ain’t it?”

“What?”

“The close vote. Six outta eighteen voted to let him walk. Five niggers and Crowell. That’s a good sign. Just get a couple of niggers on the jury and hang it. Right?”

“It’s not that easy. If it’s tried in this county there’s a good chance we’ll have an all-white jury. They’re common here, and as you know, they’re still very constitutional. Plus this guy Crowell sounds like he came outta nowhere.”

“That’s what Buckley thought. You should see that ass. He’s in the courtroom strutting around ready to sign autographs over his big TV splash last night. No one wants to talk about it, so he manages to work it into every conversation. He’s like a kid begging for attention.”

“Be sweet. He may be your next governor.”

“Not if he loses Hailey. And he’s gonna lose Hailey, Jake. We’ll pick us a good jury, twelve good and faithful citizens, then we’ll buy them.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Works every time.”

A few minutes after ten-thirty, Jake entered the judge’s chamber behind the courtroom and coolly shook hands with Buckley, Musgrove, and Ichabod. They had been waiting on him. Noose waved him toward a seat and sat behind the desk.

“Jake, this will take just a few minutes.” He peered down that nose. “I would like to arraign Carl Lee Hailey in the morning at nine. Any problems with that?”

“No. That’ll be fine,” replied Jake.

“We’ll have some other arraignments in the morning, then we start a burglary case at ten. Right, Rufus?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Now let’s discuss a trial date for Mr. Hailey. As you know, the next term of court here is in late August — third Monday — and I’m sure the docket will be just as crowded then. Because of the nature of this case and, frankly, because of the publicity, I think it would be best if we had a trial as soon as practical.”

“The sooner the better,” inserted Buckley.

“Jake, how long will you need to prepare for trial?”

“Sixty days.”

“Sixty days!” Buckley repeated in disbelief. “Why so long?”

Jake ignored him and watched Ichabod adjust his reading glasses and study his calendar. “Would it be safe to anticipate a request for a change of venue?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Won’t make any difference,” Buckley said. “We’ll get a conviction anywhere.”

“Save it for the cameras, Rufus,” Jake said quietly.

“You shouldn’t talk about cameras,” Buckley shot back. “You seem to enjoy them yourself.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Noose said. “What other pretrial motions can we expect from the defense?”

Jake thought for a moment. “There will be others.”

“May I inquire about the others?” asked Noose with a hint of irritation.

“Judge, I really don’t care to discuss my defense at this time. We just received the indictment and I haven’t discussed it with my client. We obviously have some work to do.”

“How much time do you need?”

“Sixty days.”

“Are you kidding!” Buckley shouted. “Is this a joke? The State could try it tomorrow, Judge. Sixty days is ridiculous.”

Jake began to burn but said nothing. Buckley walked to the window and mumbled to himself in disbelief.

Noose studied his calendar. “Why sixty days?”

“It could be a complicated case.”

Buckley laughed and continued shaking his head.

“Then we can expect a defense of insanity?” asked the judge.

“Yes, sir. And it will take time to have Mr. Hailey examined by a psychiatrist. Then the State will of course want him examined by its doctors.”

“I see.”

“And we may have other pretrial matters. It’s a big case, and I want to make sure we have time to adequately prepare.”

“Mr. Buckley?” said the judge.

“Whatever. It makes no difference to the State. We’ll be ready. We could try it tomorrow.”

Noose scribbled on his calendar and adjusted his reading glasses, which were perched on the tip of that nose and held in place by a tiny wart located perfectly at the foot of the beak. Due to the size of the nose and the odd shape of the head, specially built reading glasses with extra long stems were required for His Honor, who never used them for reading or any other purpose except in a vain effort to distract from the size and shape of the nose. Jake had always suspected this, but lacked the courage to inform His Honor that the ridiculous, orange-tinted hexagonal glasses diverted attention from everything else directly to the nose.

“How long do you anticipate for trial, Jake?” Noose asked.

“Three or four days. But it could take three days to pick the jury.”

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Sounds about right. But I don’t understand why it takes sixty days to prepare for a three-day trial. I think it should be tried sooner.”

“Relax, Rufus,” Jake said calmly. “The cameras will be here in sixty days, even ninety days. They won’t forget about you. You can give interviews, hold press conferences, preach sermons, everything. The works. But don’t worry so much. You’ll get your chance.”

Buckley’s eyes narrowed and his face reddened. He took three steps in Jake’s direction. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Brigance, you’ve given more interviews and seen more cameras than I have during the past week.”

“I know, and you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not jealous! I don’t care about the cameras—”

“Since when?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Noose interrupted. “This promises to be a long, emotional case. I expect my attorneys to act like professionals. Now, my calendar is congested. The only opening I have is the week of July 22. Does that present a problem?”

“We can try it that week,” said Musgrove.

Jake smiled at Buckley and flipped through his pocket calendar. “Looks good to me.”

“Fine. All motions must be filed and pretrial matters disposed of by Monday, July 8. Arraignment is set for tomorrow at nine. Any questions?”

Jake stood and shook hands with Noose and Musgrove, and left.

After lunch he visited his famous client in Ozzie’s office at the jail. A copy of the indictment had been served on Carl Lee in his cell. He had some questions for his lawyer.

“What’s capital murder?”

“The worst kind.”

“How many kinds are there?”

“Basically three. Manslaughter, regular murder, and capital murder.”

“What’s manslaughter?”

“Twenty years.”

“What’s regular murder?”

“Twenty to life.”

“What’s capital murder?”

“Gas chamber.”

“What’s aggravated assault on an officer?”

“Life. No parole.”

Carl Lee studied the indictment carefully. “You mean I got two gas chambers and a life sentence.”

“Not yet. You’re entitled to a trial first. Which, by the way, has been set for July 22.”

“That’s two months away! Why so long?”

“We need the time. It’ll take that long to find a psychiatrist who’ll say you were crazy. Then Buckley gets to send you to Whitfield to be examined by the State’s doctors, and they’ll all say you were not crazy at the time. We file motions, Buckley files motions, we have a bunch of hearings. It takes time.”

“No way to have it sooner?”

“We don’t want it sooner.”

“What if I do?” Carl Lee snapped.

Jake studied him carefully. “What’s the matter, big man?”

“I gotta get outta here, and fast.”

“I thought you said jail wasn’t so bad.”

“It ain’t, but I need to get home. Gwen’s outta money, can’t find a job. Lester’s in trouble with his wife. She’s callin’ all the time, so he won’t last much longer. I hate to ask my folk for help.”

“But they will, won’t they?”

“Some. They got their own problems. You gotta get me outta here, Jake.”

“Look, you’ll be arraigned in the morning at nine. The trial is July 22, and the date won’t be changed, so forget about that. Have I explained the arraignment to you?”

Carl Lee shook his head.

“It won’t last twenty minutes. We appear before Judge Noose in the big courtroom. He’ll ask you some questions, then ask me some questions. He’ll read the indictment to you in open court, and ask if you’ve received a copy. Then he’ll ask you to plead guilty or not guilty. When you answer not guilty, he’ll set the trial date. You’ll sit down, and me and Buckley will get into a big fight over your bond. Noose will refuse to set a bond, then they’ll bring you back to the jail, where you’ll stay until the trial.”

“What about after the trial?”

Jake smiled. “Naw, you won’t be in jail after the trial.”

“You promise?”

“Nope. No promises. Any questions about to morrow?”

“No. Say, Jake, uh, how much money did I pay you?”

Jake hesitated and smelled trouble. “Why do you ask?”

“Just thinkin’.”

“Nine hundred, plus a note.”

Gwen had less than a hundred dollars. Bills were due and food was low. She had visited on Sunday and cried for an hour. Panic was a part of her life, her makeup, her composition. But he knew they were broke and she was scared. Her family would be of little help, maybe some vegetables from the garden and a few bucks for milk and eggs. When it came to funerals and hospital stays they were very dependable. They were generous and gave of their time freely to wail and moan and put on a show. But when real money was needed they scattered like chickens. He had little use for her family, and his wasn’t much better.

He wanted to ask Jake for a hundred dollars, but decided to wait until Gwen was completely broke. It would be easier then.

Jake flipped through his legal pad and waited for Carl Lee to ask for money. Criminal clients, especially the blacks, always asked for some of the fee back after it was paid. He doubted he would ever see more than nine hundred dollars, and he was not about to return any. Besides, the blacks always took care of their own. The families would be there and the churches would get involved. No one would starve.

He waited and placed the legal pad and file in his briefcase. “Any questions, Carl Lee?”

“Yeah. What can I say tomorrow?”

“What do you want to say?”

“I wanna tell that judge why I shot them boys. They raped my daughter. They needed shootin’.”

“And you want to explain that to the judge to morrow?”

“Yeah.”

“And you think he’ll turn you loose once you explain it all?”

Carl Lee said nothing.

“Look, Carl Lee, you hired me to be your lawyer. And you hired me because you have confidence in me, right? And if I want you to say something tomorrow, I’ll tell you. If I don’t, you stay quiet. When you go to trial in July you’ll have the chance to tell your side. But in the meantime, I’ll do the talking.”

“You got that right.”

Lester and Gwen piled the boys and Tonya in the red Cadillac and drove to the doctor’s building next to the hospital. The rape was two weeks in the past. Tonya walked with a slight limp and wanted to run and climb steps with her brothers. But her mother held her hand. The soreness in her legs and buttocks was almost gone, the bandages on her wrists and ankles had been removed by the doctor last week, and the cuts were healing nicely. The gauze and cotton between her legs remained.

In a small room she undressed and sat next to her mother on a padded table. Her mother hugged her and helped her stay warm. The doctor poked in her mouth and rubbed her jaw. He held her wrists and ankles and inspected them. He laid her on the table and touched between her legs. She cried and clutched her mother, who leaned over her.

She was hurting again.