A Time to Kill

15

At five Wednesday morning, Jake sipped coffee in his office and stared through the French doors across the dark courtyard square. He had slept fitfully, and several hours earlier had given up and left his warm bed in a desperate effort to find a nameless Georgia case that, as he thought he remembered from law school, required the judge to allow bail in a capital murder case if the defendant had no prior criminal record, owned property in the county, had a stable job, and had plenty of relatives nearby. It had not been found. He did find a battery of recent, well-reasoned, clear, and unambiguous Mississippi cases allowing the judge complete discretion in denying bail to such defendants. That was the law and Jake now knew it well, but he needed something to argue to Ichabod. He dreaded asking bail for Carl Lee. Buckley would scream and preach and cite those wonderful cases, and Noose would smile and listen, then deny bail. Jake would get his tail kicked in the first skirmish.

“You’re here early this morning, sweetheart,” Dell said to her favorite customer as she poured his coffee.

“At least I’m here.” He had missed a few mornings since the amputation. Looney was popular, and there was resentment at the Coffee Shop and around town for Hailey’s lawyer. He was aware of it and tried to ignore it.

There was resentment among many for any lawyer who would defend a nigger for killing two white men.

“You got a minute?” Jake asked.

“Sure,” Dell said, looking around. At five-fifteen, the cafe was not yet full. She sat across from Jake in a small booth and poured coffee.

“What’s the talk in here?” he asked.

“The usual. Politics, fishing, farming. It never changes. I’ve been here for twenty-one years, serving the same food to the same people, and they’re still talking about the same things.”

“Nothing new?”

“Hailey. We get a lotta talk about that. Except when the strangers are here, then it goes back to the usual.”

“Why?”

“Because if you act like you know anything about the case, some reporter will follow you outside with a bunch of questions.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No. It’s great. Business has never been better.”

Jake smiled and buttered his grits, then added Tabasco.

“How do you feel about the case?”

Dell scratched her nose with long, red, fake fingernails and blew into her coffee. She was famous for her bluntness, and he was hoping for a straight answer.

“He’s guilty. He killed them. It’s cut and dried. But he had the best damned excuse I’ve ever seen. There’s some sympathy for him.”

“Let’s say you’re on the jury. Guilty or innocent?”

She watched the front door and waved at a regular. “Well, my instinct is to forgive anyone who kills a rapist. Especially a father. But, on the other hand, we can’t allow people to grab guns and hand out their own justice. Can you prove he was crazy when he did it?”

“Let’s assume I can.”

“Then I would vote not guilty, even though I don’t think he was crazy.”

He smeared strawberry preserves on dry toast and nodded his approval.

“But what about Looney?” she asked. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“It was an accident.”

“Is that good enough?”

“No. No, it’s not. The gun did not go off by accident. Looney was accidentally shot, but I doubt if that’s a valid defense. Would you convict him for shooting Looney?”

“Maybe,” she answered slowly. “He lost a leg.”

How could he be insane when he shot Cobb and Willard, and not when he shot Looney, Jake thought, but didn’t ask. He changed the subject.

“What’s the gossip on me?”

“About the same. Someone was asking where you were the other day, and said you don’t have time for us now that you’re a celebrity. I’ve heard some mumbling, about you and the nigger, but it’s pretty quiet. They don’t criticize you loudly. I won’t let them.”

“You’re a sweetheart.”

“I’m a mean bitch and you know it.”

“No. You just try to be.”

“Yeah, watch this.” She jumped from the booth and shouted abuse at a table of farmers who had motioned for more coffee. Jake finished alone, and returned to the office.

When Ethel arrived at eight-thirty, two reporters were loitering on the sidewalk outside the locked door. They followed Ethel inside and demanded to see Mr. Brigance. She refused, and asked them to leave. They refused, and repeated their demand. Jake heard the commotion downstairs and locked his door. Let Ethel fight with them.

From his office he watched a camera crew set up by the rear door of the courthouse. He smiled and felt a wonderful surge of adrenaline. He could see himself on the evening news walking briskly, stern, businesslike, across the street followed by reporters begging for dialogue but getting no comments. And this was just the arraignment. Imagine the trial! Cameras everywhere, reporters yelling questions, front-page stories, perhaps magazine covers. An Atlanta paper had called it the most sensational murder in the South in twenty years. He would have taken the case for free, almost.

Moments later he interrupted the argument downstairs, and warmly greeted the reporters. Ethel disappeared into the conference room.

“Could you answer some questions?” one of them asked.

“No,” Jake answered politely. “I have to meet with Judge Noose.”

“Just a couple of questions?”

“No. But there will be a press conference at three P.M.” Jake opened the door, and the reporters followed him onto the sidewalk.

“Where’s the press conference?”

“In my office.”

“What’s the purpose?”

“To discuss the case.”

Jake walked slowly across the street and up the short driveway to the courthouse answering questions along the way.

“Will Mr. Hailey be at the press conference?”

“Yes, along with his family.”

“The girl, too?”

“Yes, she will be there.”

“Will Mr. Hailey answer questions?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided.”

Jake said good day, and disappeared into the courthouse, leaving the reporters to chat and gossip about the press conference.

Buckley entered the courthouse through the huge wooden front doors, amid no fanfare. He had hoped for a camera or two, but was dismayed to learn they were gathering at the rear door to catch a glimpse of the defendant. He would use the rear door in the future.

Judge Noose parked by a fire hydrant in front of the post office and loped along the east sidewalk across the courtyard square and into the courthouse. He, too, attracted no attention, except for a few curious stares.

Ozzie peered through the front windows of the jail and watched the mob waiting for Carl Lee in the parking lot. The ploy of another end run crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. His office had received two dozen death threats on Carl Lee, and Ozzie took a few seriously. They were specific, with dates and places. But most were just general, everyday death threats. And this was just the arraignment. He thought of the trial, and mumbled something to Moss Junior. They surrounded Carl Lee with uniformed bodies and marched him down the sidewalk, past the press and into a rented step van. Six deputies and a driver piled in. Escorted by Ozzie’s three newest patrol cars, the van drove quickly to the courthouse.

Noose had scheduled a dozen arraignments for 9:00 A.M., and when he settled into the chair on the bench he shifted through the files until he found Hailey’s. He looked to the front row in the courtroom and saw a somber group of suspicious-looking men, all newly indicted. At the far end of the front row, two deputies sat next to a handcuffed defendant, and Brigance was whispering to him. Must be Hailey.

Noose picked up a red court file and adjusted his reading glasses so they would not hinder his reading. “State versus Carl Lee Hailey, case number 3889. Will Mr. Hailey come forward?”

The handcuffs were removed, and Carl Lee followed his attorney to the bench, where they stood looking up to His Honor, who quietly and nervously scanned the indictment in the file. The courtroom grew silent. Buckley rose and strutted slowly to within a few feet of the defendant. The artists near the railing busily sketched the scene.

Jake glared at Buckley, who had no reason to stand before the bench during the arraignment. The D.A. was dressed in his finest black three-piece polyester suit. Every hair on his huge head had been meticulously combed and plastered in place. He had the appearance of a television evangelist.

Jake walked to Buckley and whispered, “That’s a nice suit, Rufus.”

“Thanks,” he replied, somewhat off-guard.

“Does it glow in the dark?” Jake asked, then returned to the side of his client.

“Are you Carl Lee Hailey?” asked the judge.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Brigance your attorney?”

“Yes.”

“I’m holding here a copy of an indictment returned against you by the grand jury. Have you been served a copy of this?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read it?”

“Yes.”

“Have you discussed it with your attorney?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m required by law to read it to you in open court.” Noose cleared his throat. “ ‘The grand jurors of the State of Mississippi, taken from the body of good and lawful citizens of Ford County thereof, duly elected, empaneled, sworn, and charged to inquire in and for said county and state aforesaid, in the name and under the authority of the State of Mississippi, upon their oaths present that Carl Lee Hailey, late of the county and state aforesaid, within the jurisdiction of this court, did unlawfully, willfully, and feloniously and intentionally and with malice aforethought, kill and murder Billy Ray Cobb, a human being, and Pete Willard, a human being, and did shoot and attempt to kill DeWayne Looney, a peace officer, in direct violation of the Mississippi Code, and against the peace and dignity of the State of Mississippi. A true bill. Signed, Laverne Gossett, foreman of the grand jury.’ ”

Noose caught his breath. “Do you understand the charges against you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand that if convicted you could be put to death in the gas chamber at the state penitentiary at Parchman?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to plead guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.”

Noose reviewed his calendar as the audience watched intently. The reporters took notes. The artists focused on the principals, including Buckley, who had managed to enter the picture and stand sideways, allowing for a profile shot. He was anxious to say something. He scowled contemptuously at the rear of Carl Lee’s head, as if he could not wait to fry this murderer. He swaggered to the table where Musgrove was sitting and the two whispered importantly. He marched across the courtroom and engaged in hushed conversation with one of the clerks. Then he returned to the bench where the defendant stood motionless next to his attorney, who was aware of Buckley’s show and was trying desperately to ignore it.

“Mr. Hailey,” Noose squeaked, “your trial is set for Monday, July 22. All pretrial motions and matters must be filed by June 24, and disposed of by July 8.”

Carl Lee and Jake nodded.

“Anything further?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Buckley boomed loud enough for the reporters in the rotunda. “The State opposes any request for bail by this defendant.”

Jake gripped his fists and wanted to scream. “Your Honor, the defendant has not yet asked for bail. Mr. Buckley, as usual, is confused about the procedure. He cannot oppose a request until it is made. He should’ve learned that in law school.”

Buckley was stung, but continued. “Your Honor, Mr. Brigance always requests bail, and I’m sure he’ll request it today. The State will oppose any such request.”

“Well, why don’t you wait until he makes his request?”

Noose asked the D.A. with a touch of irritation.

“Very well,” Buckley said. His face had reddened and he glared at Jake.

“Do you plan to request bail?” Noose asked.

“I had planned to at the proper time, but before I got a chance Mr. Buckley intervened with his theatrics—”

“Never mind Mr. Buckley,” Noose interrupted.

“I know, Judge, he’s just confused.”

“Bail, Mr. Brigance?”

“Yes, I had planned to request it.”

“I thought so, and I’ve already considered whether bail should be allowed in this case. As you know, it is completely within my discretion, and I never allow bail in a capital murder case. I don’t feel as though an exception is in order in this case.”

“You mean you’ve decided to deny bail?”

“Yes.”

Jake shrugged his shoulders and laid a file on the table. “Good enough.”

“Anything further?” Noose asked.

“No, Your Honor,” Jake said.

Buckley shook his head in silence.

“Good. Mr. Hailey, you are hereby ordered to remain in the custody of the Ford County sheriff until trial. You are dismissed.”

Carl Lee returned to the front row, where a deputy waited with the handcuffs. Jake opened his briefcase, and was stuffing it with files and papers when Buckley grabbed his arm.

“That was a cheap shot, Brigance,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You asked for it,” Jake replied. “Let go of my arm.”

Buckley released his arm. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“Too bad, big man. You shouldn’t talk so much. Big mouths get burned.”

Buckley had three inches and fifty pounds on Jake, and his irritation was growing. The exchange had drawn attention, and a deputy moved between them. Jake winked at Buckley and left the courtroom.

At two the Hailey clan, led by Uncle Lester, entered Jake’s office through the rear door. Jake met them in a small office next to the conference room downstairs. They talked about the press conference. Twenty minutes later, Ozzie and Carl Lee strolled nonchalantly through the rear door, and Jake led them to the office, where Carl Lee was reunited with his family. Ozzie and Jake left the room.

The press conference was carefully orchestrated by Jake, who marveled at his ability to manipulate the press and its willingness to be manipulated. On one side of the long conference table he sat with the three Hailey boys standing behind him. Gwen was seated to his left, Carl Lee to his right holding Tonya.

Legal etiquette forbade revealing the identity of a child rape victim, but Tonya was different. Her name, face, and age were well known because of her daddy. She had already been exposed to the world, and Jake wanted her to be seen and photographed in her best white Sunday dress sitting on her daddy’s knee. The jurors, whoever they were and wherever they lived, would be watching.

Reporters crammed into the room, which overflowed and trailed down the hall to the reception area, where Ethel rudely ordered them to sit and leave her alone. A deputy guarded the front door, and two others sat on the rear steps. Sheriff Walls and Lester stood awkwardly behind the Haileys and their lawyer. Microphones were clustered on the table in front of Jake, and the cameras clicked and flashed under the warm television lights.

“I have a few prefatory remarks,” Jake began. “First, all questions will be answered by me. No questions are to be directed to Mr. Hailey or any member of his family. If he is asked a question, I will instruct him not to answer. Second, I would like to introduce his family. To my left is his wife, Gwen Hailey. Standing behind us are his sons, Carl Lee, Jr., Jarvis, and Robert. Behind the boys is Mr. Hailey’s brother, Lester Hailey.”

Jake paused and smiled at Tonya. “Sitting in her daddy’s lap is Tonya Hailey. Now I’ll answer questions.”

“What happened in court this morning?”

“Mr. Hailey was arraigned, he pled not guilty, and his trial was set for July 22.”

“Was there an altercation between you and the district attorney?”

“Yes. After the arraignment, Mr. Buckley approached me, grabbed my arm, and looked as if he planned to assault me when a deputy intervened.”

“What caused it?”

“Mr. Buckley has a tendency to crack under pressure.”

“Are you and Mr. Buckley friends?”

“No.”

“Will the trial be in Clanton?”

“A motion to change venue will be filed by the defense. The location of the trial will be determined by Judge Noose. No predictions.”

“Could you describe what this has done to the Hailey family?”

Jake thought a minute while the cameras rolled. He glanced at Carl Lee and Tonya. “You’re looking at a very nice family. Two weeks ago life was good and simple. There was a job at the paper mill, a little money in the bank, security, stability, church every Sunday together, a loving family. Then, for reasons known only to God, two drunk, drugged punks committed a horrible, violent act against this little ten-year-old girl. They shocked us, and made us all feel sick. They ruined her life, and the lives of her parents and family. It was too much for her father. He snapped. He broke. Now he’s in jail facing trial and the prospect of the gas chamber. The job is gone. The money is gone. The innocence is gone. The children face the possibility of growing up without their father. Their mother must now find a job to support them, and she’ll have to beg and borrow from friends and relatives in order to survive.

“To answer your question, sir, the family has been devastated and destroyed.”

Gwen began crying quietly, and Jake handed her a handkerchief.

“Are you hinting at a defense of insanity?”

“Yes.”

“Will there in fact be a plea of insanity?”

“Yes.”

“Can you prove it?”

“That will be left for the jury. We will provide them experts in the field of psychiatry.”

“Have you already consulted with these experts?”

“Yes,” lied Jake.

“Could you give us their names?”

“No, that would be inappropriate at this point.”

“We’ve heard rumors of death threats against Mr. Hailey. Could you confirm?”

“There continue to be threats against Mr. Hailey, his family, my family, the sheriff, the judge, just about everyone involved. I don’t know how serious they are.”

Carl Lee patted Tonya on the leg and looked blankly at the table. He looked scared, pitiful, and in need of sympathy. His boys looked scared too, but, according to strict orders, they stood at attention, afraid to move. Carl Lee, Jr., the oldest at fifteen, stood behind Jake. Jarvis, the middle son at thirteen, stood behind his daddy. And Robert, age eleven, stood behind his mother. They wore identical navy suits with white shirts and little red bow ties. Robert’s suit was once Carl Lee, Jr.’s, then Jarvis’s, and now his, and it looked a bit more worn than the other two. But it was clean, neatly pressed, and perfectly cuffed. The boys looked sharp. How could any juror vote to force these children to live without their father?

The press conference was a hit. Segments of it ran on the networks and local stations, both on the evening and late news. The Thursday papers ran front-page pictures of the Haileys and their lawyer.