A Time to Kill (67 page)

Noose looked at Carl Lee. “Will the defendant please rise.”

Jake knew there were probably more terrifying requests known to the English tongue, but to a criminal lawyer that request at that particular moment had horrible implications. His client stood awkwardly, pitifully. Jake closed his eyes and held his breath. His hands shook and his stomach ached.

Noose handed the verdict back to Jean Gillespie. “Please read it, Madam Clerk.”

She unfolded it and faced the defendant. “As to each count of the indictment, we the jury find the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity.”

Carl Lee turned and bolted for the railing. Tonya and the boys sprang from the front pew and grabbed him. The courtroom exploded in pandemonium. Gwen screamed and burst into tears. She buried her head in Lester’s arms. The reverends stood, looked upward, and shouted “Hallelujah!” and “Praise Jesus!” and “Lord! Lord! Lord!”

Noose’s admonition meant nothing. He rapped the gavel halfheartedly and said, “Order, order, order in the courtroom.” He was inaudible in the midst of the roar, and seemed content to allow a little celebration.

Jake was numb, lifeless, paralyzed. His only movement was a weak smile in the direction of the jury box. His eyes watered and his lip quivered, and he decided not to make a spectacle of himself. He nodded at Jean Gillespie, who was crying, and just sat at the defense table nodding and trying to smile, unable to do anything else. From the corner of his eye he could see Musgrove and Buckley removing files, legal pads, and important-looking papers, and throwing it all into their briefcases. Be gracious, he told himself.

A teenager darted between two deputies, through the door, and ran through the rotunda screaming “Not guilty! Not guilty!” He ran to a small balcony over the front steps and screamed to the masses below
“Not guilty! Not guilty!”
Bedlam erupted.

“Order, order in the court,” Noose was saying when the delayed reaction from the outside came thundering through the windows.

“Order, order in the courtroom.” He tolerated the excitement for another minute, then asked the sheriff to restore order. Ozzie raised his hands and spoke. The clapping, hugging and praising died quickly. Carl Lee released his children and returned to the defense table. He sat close to his attorney and put his arm around him, grinning and crying at the same time.

Noose smiled at the defendant. “Mr. Hailey, you have been tried by a jury of your peers and found not guilty. I do not recall any expert testimony that you are now dangerous or in need of further psychiatric treatment. You are a free man.”

His Honor looked at the attorneys. “If there is nothing further, this court will stand adjourned until August 15.”

Carl Lee was smothered by his family and friends. They hugged him, hugged each other, hugged Jake. They wept unashamedly and praised the Lord. They told Jake they loved him.

The reporters pressed against the railing and began firing questions at Jake. He held up his hands, and said he would have no comment. But there would be a full-blown press conference in his office at 2:00 P.M.

Buckley and Musgrove left through a side door. The jurors were locked in the jury room to await the last bus ride to the motel. Barry Acker asked to speak to the sheriff. Ozzie met him in the hallway, listened
intently, and promised to escort him home and provide protection around the clock.

The reporters assaulted Carl Lee. “I just wanna go home,” he said over and over. “I just wanna go home.”

The celebration kicked into high gear on the front lawn. There was singing, dancing, crying, back-slapping, hugging, thanks-giving, congratulating, outright laughing, cheering, chanting, high fives, low fives, and soul brother shakes. The heavens were praised in one glorious, tumultuous, irreverent jubilee. They packed closer together in front of the courthouse and waited impatiently for their hero to emerge and bask in his much-deserved adulation.

Their patience grew thin. After thirty minutes of screaming “We Want Carl Lee! We Want Carl Lee!” their man appeared at the door. An ear-splitting, earth-shaking roar greeted him. He inched forward through the mass with his lawyer and family, and stopped on the top step under the pillars where the plywood platform held a thousand microphones. The whooping and yelling of twenty thousand voices was deafening. He hugged his lawyer, and they waved to the sea of screaming faces.

The shouting from the army of reporters was completely inaudible. Occasionally, Jake would stop waving and yell something about a press conference in his office at two.

Carl Lee hugged his wife and children, and they waved. The crowd roared its approval. Jake slid away and into the courthouse, where he found Lucien and Harry Rex waiting in a corner, away from the mad rush of spectators. “Let’s get out of here,” Jake yelled. They pushed through the mob, down the hall and out the rear door. Jake spotted a swarm of reporters on the sidewalk outside his office.

“Where are you parked?” he asked Lucien. He pointed to a side street, and they disappeared behind the Coffee Shop.

________

Sallie fried pork chops and green tomatoes, and served them on the porch. Lucien produced a bottle of expensive champagne, and swore he had saved it just for the occasion. Harry Rex ate with his fingers, gnawing on the bones as if he hadn’t seen food in a month. Jake played with his food and worked on the ice-cold champagne. After two glasses, he smiled into the distance. He savored the moment.

“You look silly as hell,” Harry Rex said with a mouthful of pork.

“Shut up, Harry Rex,” Lucien said. “Let him enjoy his finest hour.”

“He’s enjoying it. Look at that smirk.”

“What should I tell the press?” Jake asked.

“Tell them you need some clients,” Harry Rex said.

“Clients will be no problem,” Lucien said. “They’ll line the sidewalks waiting for appointments.”

“Why didn’t you talk to the reporters in the courthouse? They had their cameras running and everything. I started to say something for them,” Harry Rex said.

“I’m sure it would’ve been a gem,” Lucien said.

“I’ve got them at my fingertips,” Jake said. “They’re not going anywhere. We could sell tickets to the press conference and make a fortune.”

“Can I sit and watch, please, Jake, please,” Harry Rex said.

44

__________

T
hey argued over whether they should take the antique Bronco or the nasty little Porsche. Jake said he was not driving. Harry Rex cursed the loudest, and they loaded into the Bronco. Lucien found a spot in the rear seat. Jake rode shotgun and gave instructions. They hit the back streets, and missed most of the traffic from the square. The highway was crowded, and Jake directed his driver through a myriad of gravel roads. They found blacktop, and Harry Rex raced away in the direction of the lake.

“I have one question, Lucien,” Jake said.

“What?”

“And I want a straight answer.”

“What?”

“Did you cut a deal with Sisco?”

“No, my boy, you won it on your own.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear to God. On a stack of Bibles.”

Jake wanted to believe him, so he dropped it. They rode in silence, in the sweltering heat, and listened as Harry Rex sang along with the stereo. Suddenly, Jake
pointed and yelled. Harry Rex slammed on the brakes, made a wild left turn, and sped down another gravel road.

“Where are we going?” Lucien demanded.

“Just hang on,” Jake said as he looked at a row of houses approaching on the right. He pointed to the second one, and Harry Rex pulled into the driveway and parked under a shade tree. Jake got out, looked around the front yard, and walked onto the porch. He knocked on the screen door.

A man appeared. A stranger. “Yeah, whatta you want?”

“I’m Jake Brigance, and—”

The door flew open, and the man rushed onto the porch and grabbed Jake’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Mack Loyd Crowell. I was on the grand jury that almost didn’t indict. You done a real good job. I’m proud of you.”

Jake shook his hand and repeated his name. Then he remembered. Mack Loyd Crowell, the man who told Buckley to shut up and sit down in the grand jury. “Yeah, Mack Loyd, now I remember. Thanks.”

Jake looked awkwardly through the door.

“You lookin’ for Wanda?” Crowell asked.

“Well, yes. I was just passing by, and remembered her address from the jury research.”

“You’ve come to the right place. She lives here, and I do too most of the time. We ain’t married or nothing, but we go together. She’s layin’ down takin’ a nap. She’s pretty wore out.”

“Don’t wake her,” Jake said.

“She told me what happened. She won it for you.”

“How? What happened?”

“She made them all close their eyes and listen to her. She told them to pretend that the little girl had
blond hair and blue eyes, that the two rapists were black, that they tied her right foot to a tree and her left foot to a fence post, that they raped her repeatedly and cussed her because she was white. She told them to picture the little girl layin’ there beggin’ for her daddy while they kicked her in the mouth and knocked out her teeth, broke both jaws, broke her nose. She said to imagine two drunk blacks pouring beer on her and pissing in her face, and laughing like idiots. And then she told them to imagine that the little girl belonged to them—their daughter. She told them to be honest with themselves and to write on a piece of paper whether or not they would kill those black bastards if they got the chance. And they voted, by secret ballot. All twelve said they would do the killing. The foreman counted the votes. Twelve to zero. Wanda said she’d sit in that jury room until Christmas before she’d vote to convict, and if they were honest with themselves, then they ought to feel the same way. Ten of them agreed with her, and one lady held out. They all started cryin’ and cussin’ her so bad, she finally caved in. It was rough in there, Jake.”

Jake listened to every word without breathing. He heard a noise. Wanda Womack walked to the screen door. She smiled at him and began crying. He stared at her through the screen, but could not talk. He bit his lip and nodded. “Thanks,” he managed weakly. She wiped her eyes and nodded.

________

On Craft Road, a hundred cars lined both shoulders east and west of the Hailey driveway. The long front yard was packed with vehicles, children playing, and parents sitting under shade trees and on car hoods. Harry Rex parked in a ditch by the mailbox. A crowd
rushed to greet Carl Lee’s lawyer. Lester grabbed him and said, “You done it again, you done it again.”

They shook hands and slapped backs across the yard and up to the porch. Agee hugged him and praised God. Carl Lee left the swing and walked down the steps, followed by his family and admirers. They gathered around Jake as the two great men came face to face. They clutched hands and smiled at each other, both searching for words. They embraced. The crowd clapped and shouted.

“Thank you, Jake,” Carl Lee said softly.

The lawyer and client sat in the swing and answered questions about the trial. Lucien and Harry Rex joined Lester and some of his friends under a shade tree for a little drink. Tonya ran and jumped around the yard with a hundred other kids.

________

At two-thirty, Jake sat at his desk and talked to Carla. Harry Rex and Lucien drank the last of the margaritas, and quickly got drunk. Jake drank coffee and told his wife he would leave Memphis in three hours and be in North Carolina by ten. Yes, he was fine, he said. Everything was okay, and everything was over. There were dozens of reporters packed into his conference room, so be sure and watch the evening news. He would meet with them briefly, then drive to Memphis. He said he loved her, missed her body, and would be there soon. He hung up.

Tomorrow, he’d call Ellen.

“Why are you leaving today!” Lucien demanded.

“You’re stupid, Jake, just stupid. You’ve got a thousand reporters in the palm of your hand, and you’re leaving town. Stupid, just stupid,” Harry Rex shouted.

Jake stood. “How do I look, fellas?”

“Like a dumbass if you leave town,” Harry Rex said.

“Hang around for a couple of days,” Lucien pleaded. “This is an opportunity you’ll never have again. Please, Jake.”

“Relax, fellas. I’m going to meet with them now, let them take my picture, answer a few of their stupid questions, then I’m leaving town.”

“You’re crazy, Jake,” Harry Rex said.

“I agree,” said Lucien.

Jake checked the mirror, adjusted Stan’s tie, and smiled at his friends. “I appreciate you guys. I really do. I got paid nine hundred dollars for this trial, and I plan to share it with y’all.”

They poured the last of the margaritas, gulped it down, and followed Jake Brigance down the stairs to face the reporters.

To Renée

A woman of uncommon beauty,
A fiercely loyal friend,
A compassionate critic,
A doting mother,

                        A perfect wife.

Books by John Grisham

A TIME TO KILL
THE FIRM
THE PELICAN BRIEF
THE CLIENT
THE CHAMBER
THE RAINMAKER
THE RUNAWAY JURY
THE PARTNER
THE STREET LAWYER
THE TESTAMENT
THE BRETHREN
A PAINTED HOUSE
SKIPPING CHRISTMAS
THE SUMMONS
THE KING OF TORTS
BLEACHERS
THE LAST JUROR
THE BROKER
THE INNOCENT MAN
PLAYING FOR PIZZA
THE APPEAL
THE ASSOCIATE
FORD COUNTY: STORIES