Authors: Allen Drury
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Political, #Contemporary Fiction
Decision (30 page)
“You might,” Henrietta remarked. “Lawyers often do. You’re different?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she said, immediately gaining further points with her candor. “My inclination is to abide with traditional American jurisprudence which holds that a man is innocent until proven guilty. Do any of you ladies and gentlemen have proof that Earle Holgren is guilty? I would certainly like to know it, myself. And so, I assume, would Mr. Stinnet.”
There was laughter and someone said dryly, “Yes, I expect he would… So at the moment you’re taking the case on the assumption that you have an innocent client. How did you happen to come into the case, anyway?”
“I live in the area,” she said, “and since the controversy seemed to revolve around opposition to atomic energy, to which I am also personally opposed, I decided to offer my services to Mr. Holgren. He accepted them. It was as simple as that.”
“Oh, really?” Henrietta inquired. “That was very fortunate for him, was it not? Is he paying his own fees, or is somebody else helping to finance his case?”
“We have not discussed payment.”
“At the moment no one is paying you?” someone asked in a surprised tone.
“At the moment we have not discussed payment,” she repeated. “I assume we will in due course.”
“What is your impression of your client?” a feminine voice, which she recognized as that of one of television’s larger luminaries, inquired from the back of the room. “Is he defiant? Depressed? Upbeat? Downbeat? Sullen? Happy?”
“I think,” she said carefully, laying the groundwork for what she knew already would be one of the most difficult problems of her case, “that he is responding alertly and well to the various aspects of the matter. He is, as you have already ascertained from the academic record that has been released by Mr. Stinnet’s office, a very highly intelligent individual. As such he is sensitive and reflective of the pressures around him.”
“Moody and unpredictable, in other words,” the television luminary remarked. Debbie permitted some annoyance to enter her answer.
“He is naturally under great pressure at the moment,” she said severely. “His reactions are strong and positive. When he considers a subject serious and important, he reacts in such a manner. When it is amusing, he laughs.”
“He laughs,” the television luminary repeated thoughtfully. “Does he find a lot to laugh at in this matter, which involves partial destruction of important property, the death of a Supreme Court Justice’s daughter, the very serious harming of another Supreme Court Justice’s daughter and the death of a woman and child, possibly his? These things amuse him?”
“I did not say
these
were the things that amuse him,” Debbie said coldly, “and I hope for the sake of future amicable relations with the media that such words will not be put in my mouth. Actually I have had two brief talks with him and he has not laughed very much. He has been severely beaten, he was denied his constitutional rights to warning and counsel upon his arrest, and life on the whole is a very serious matter for him. As,” she said thoughtfully, “I should think it would be for the state of South Carolina and the official who has taken it upon himself to justify those actions.”
“How does Holgren look?” a male voice asked and in a quick change of tone she replied,
“He looks like hell.”
“Badly beaten?”
“Badly beaten.”
“But his spirits, on the whole, are good.”
“His spirits on the whole are good. He is sustained by his determination to prove his innocence and his certainty that he can.”
“Prove his innocence or keep someone else from proving his guilt?” Henrietta inquired. Debbie smiled.
“The burden of proof is on his accusers, is it not?”
“And you don’t think they can do it,” a famous columnist from New York remarked.
“If proof does not exist,” Debbie said calmly, “how would you suggest they go about it? Manufacture some? I thought those days were gone, even in the—I thought those days were gone.”
“Do you expect to confer with Mr. Stinnet regarding plans for the trial?”
“Of course I am available for any consultation Mr. Stinnet wishes. If, that is,” she added dryly, “Mr. Stinnet is not too busy with his extracurricular activities to tend to his primary responsibility, which is this case.”
“Don’t underestimate Mr. Stinnet,” Henny said. “He’ll take care of this case and his ‘extracurricular activities,’ as you put it, both, and still keep you hoppin’. I suppose you mean by that, Justice NOW!”
“I mean this reactionary, anti-democratic, so-called ‘law-and-order’ crusade that he seems to have pulled out of his hat in the past twenty-four hours,” Debbie said sharply. “I mean his vigilantism, with all its harsh and ominous threats to our democratic society and the rule of law. I will admit he’s come up with a name for it that may be appealing to many people impatient with the orderly processes of the law, but that doesn’t change its essential repugnant nature, repugnant to our whole democratic way of life.”
“Strong words,” Henrietta observed. “You realize that as of half an hour ago his office had received over ten thousand telegrams and phone calls, and that the number is apparently increasin’ by the minute. And they haven’t even started counting the mail, yet.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Debbie said calmly, “and one must hope that the genuinely democratic elements in this country, the common-sense democracy of this country, will soon put it in perspective and reject the extremism which it represents. When you of the media make clear to the country the dangers that are inherent in it, I don’t think there will be any doubt of its rejection.”
“You may not find,” the television luminary said, “that all of the media is going to be quite so unanimous against it as you seem to assume. And you may find that your client is in more trouble because of it than he might otherwise be.”
“If I have to fight this case on the TV channels and the front pages,” Debbie retorted, “I shall do so.”
“Where else can you win it?” Henrietta-Maude inquired; and stared back unimpressed as Earle Holgren’s lawyer flashed her a look that would have done credit to her client himself.
“Listen!” she said. “Listen, all of you! If you think for one minute that I, or any other decent, law-abiding American is going to sit idly by and let a corrupt and decaying criminal justice system railroad Earle Holgren to his death without proof and without a fair trial, then you have another think coming. That isn’t the way America works! Mr. Stinnet talks about Justice NOW! All right, we’re going to
have
justice now—and it won’t be his kind of vigilante justice, either! It will be real justice, which is what all decent, law-abiding Americans want! It will be
real
justice for Earle Holgren! I appeal to all decent Americans to HELP EARLE HOLGREN! That’s the slogan
I
want to see, because it fits the facts!”
“La Pasionaria of Pomeroy Station,” a male voice remarked in the background and amid a flutter of laughter Henrietta said clearly,
“Isn’t it
amazin’
how people can start from exactly opposite poles and arrive at exactly the same place? I thought Regard had the decent, law-abidin’ people on his side, but accordin’ to this young lady, they’re all over there with her. Well, we’ll see.”
“You certainly will see,” Debbie said, more calmly. “If Mr. Stinnet thinks we’re going to lie down and let him walk all over us without a fight, he’d better reconsider, because that isn’t the way it’s going to be. And I don’t care how many ‘Justice NOWS!’ he fabricates.”
“Well, I guess that tells Regard,” Henrietta said, closing her notebook with a snap. “How often do you plan to hold these performances for us?”
“They aren’t ‘performances’!” Debbie retorted. “And your comment expresses exactly the state of mind I had expected to find here regarding this defendant. It is going to make it extremely difficult to find a fair judge, a fair jury and a fair trial. This atmosphere is highly prejudiced and highly hostile.”
“Will you try for a change of venue?” someone asked.
“I may, though I doubt if anywhere in the state would be any better. It is something I shall have to consider carefully, however. The main thing I want to do is appeal to all fair-minded citizens all over the country to assist us with their contributions and their support. I am counting on the basic traditional spirit of fair play in America. Those who believe in it will assist. Those who do not will of course go their own way. But I don’t think we will lack for help.”
And in this, as the day drew on, she proved to be correct, for it was not long after her press conference had ended with one more defiant blast at the criminal justice system, one more appeal to “decent, law-abiding American citizens,” that the first tentative questionings began to appear.
By some happenstance on the evening news, the battle between the founder of Justice NOW! and the defender of Earle Holgren somehow became transformed into a contest between a big, menacing, overbearing figure and a gallant little wisp of a woman as she bravely sought to save a possibly innocent suspect from the forces of evil in a corrupt and unfair system. There were no flat assertions that the suspect
was
innocent, nobody was able to deny that the response to Justice NOW! was indeed unprecedented and overwhelming, but it was stressed that as nearly as could be ascertained so far, the attorney general’s case against Earle Holgren appeared to be based heavily on circumstantial evidence. It was conceded that Justice NOW!, though not yet twelve hours old, was already a major political phenomenon that inevitably would have effects “reaching far beyond the immediate case of Earle Holgren.” But there was also a genuine and openly expressed concern that it might well lead, as Debbie had asserted, to rampant vigilantism that could well upset the whole fabric of American jurisprudence.
This was not the case, however, among the viewers and readers, as the rising response to Justice NOW! continued to prove. There might be high-level discussions of circumstantial evidence and potential vigilantism among those who prided themselves on being above the battle, but gut instinct in the country seemed to be that the bomber of Pomeroy Station was guilty as hell, and that the sooner he was strung up, the better—not only for the sake of retribution but for the sake of society as a whole. Somehow a large, insistent and apparently overwhelming majority seemed to agree with Regard Stinnet that this case summarized the whole frustrating, frightening, infuriating increase in wanton crime that had plagued the country in recent years.
It was as though many millions had suddenly and finally decided that enough was indeed enough; and no voice of caution, restraint or detached intellectual weighing of pros and cons was going to be able to stem the irresistible popular decision that there must be a time to stop it, and the time was now.
***
Chapter 5
Sarah Ann Pomeroy was buried at “High Pillars,” the Pomeroy plantation southeast of Columbia, on Monday. In the soft late-spring afternoon, the old house, built by Pomeroys in 1821 and inhabited by them ever since, had never looked more beautiful or serene. The service, arranged by Sue-Ann with the strength that women find within themselves on such occasions, was the same. Only one thing marred it for the family, the plantation and house workers and the little handful of old friends from across South Carolina gathered on the lawn beneath the oaks: the minister’s inability to stay away from the topic that was arousing and agitating the country.
“Everyone here,” an old aunt remarked to an old uncle as they drove away after tearfully kissing Sue-Ann and Moss good-bye, “is just as upset about this awful crime, and wantin’ that Stinnet boy’s plans to succeed, and all, as anybody else. Why did the preacher have to drag it in over poor Sarah’s grave? We surely didn’t have to be reminded!”
But remind them he did. It seemed he could not stay away from it, try as he undoubtedly did to keep his brief remarks free from everything but the terrible loss of a happy and promising young life.
“Now we have seen,” he intoned, and in spite of his best intentions a rising indignation entered his voice, “that beautiful young life wantonly destroyed by the actions of an evil being who, apparently moved by some perverse quarrel with society, has brought directly to our beloved Pomeroy family the savage sickness that afflicts the land. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord! May He find a million, yea ten million, yea hundreds of millions, to do His work for Him! May justice indeed be restored to the land, and may this crime and its swift, inevitable punishment serve as a beacon to restore America to goodness, to sanity, to security and to truth. Only then will our dear Sarah be at rest. Only then will we know that she has not died in vain!”
Even Regard, rapidly repeating several of these phrases to himself so that he could remember and use them in later speeches, squirmed uncomfortably; and for a few seconds the serenity and peace of the lovely old homestead were invaded by the ravening horrors of the world outside. The minister went on and concluded without further reference to them, and afterward Sue-Ann and Moss thanked him gravely and told him what a wonderful job he had done. But later Sue-Ann also protested bitterly, and cried again even though Moss said gently, “But, honey, how can we escape it? It’s true, what he said. The very reason for our being here reminds us; we can’t forget it for a minute. Nobody can.”
At the hospital in Columbia, to which Tay returned immediately after the service, it was equally inescapable. He had accepted Regard’s offer of a ride out, and on the return journey in his armored Mercedes—Regard did not specifically describe it as such, but the moment Tay slipped inside he realized he was surrounded by gadgetry of a particularly specific kind—the attorney general could not resist his own comments on the ceremony they had just been through.
“I could wish that old preacher had been a little less blunt about it,” he remarked as he skillfully negotiated the deserted back-country roads at a speed that sometimes caused his passenger to tense, “but I guess after all it was what everybody was thinkin’. And I can tell you,” he added with satisfaction, “they’re sure thinkin’ it out around the country. Did you see the
New York Times
this mornin’? No? Well, I tore it out to show Moss and you, because I thought you might miss it.”
JUSTICE NOW! SWEEPING COUNTRY, the headlines said. LAW-ORDER GROUP WINS SWIFT SUPPORT. MANY THOUSANDS JOINING.
A picture of Regard and a secretary holding up sheaves of telegrams and letters accompanied the story, which was written by the correspondent who had been sent down to Columbia. His text had a distinct undertone of uneasiness.
“He seems to be worried about you,” Tay remarked, handing the article back.
“Ah, shucks!” Regard said. “Those Northerners up there in New York can be counted on, you know that, Mr. Justice. You can just count on ’em. They’re right there every time, expressin’ their doubts and fears about anything spontaneous and law-abidin’ that happens in this country. But that isn’t goin’ to stop Justice NOW! We’re rollin’, man! We’re really rollin’!”
And inspired by this he cheerfully trod harder on the gas and the sleek car shot along through narrow lanes and under overhanging trees a-drip with Spanish moss.
“Regard,” Tay said, “would you mind? I’d like to get back to the hospital as a visitor, not a patient. One patient in the family,” he added with some grimness, “is enough.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Justice,” Regard said, slowing down so abruptly that only a strong seat belt kept Tay in place. “I really am. I get to goin’ along thinkin’ about Justice NOW! and how it’s racin’ ahead all over this great land of ours and
I
get to racin’ ahead.” His tone changed to a genuine solicitude. “How is your little girl? I couldn’t tell much from that story—he doesn’t dwell on it.”
“He doesn’t know. I’m not talking to the media right now, and neither is Moss, as you know. Janie is—holding her own, thank you.”
“Is she—?” Regard began delicately. “Are there any signs of—?”
“She doesn’t know us yet, no.”
“Still in a coma,” Regard said thoughtfully. “That’s a for-damned shame, I’ll tell you.”
“We aren’t happy about it.”
“How is Mrs. Barbour taking it? Like a real gallant lady, I imagine.”
“She’s a strong woman,” Tay said in a noncommittal tone that Regard filed away for future reference. “We’re both managing, although”—he suddenly uttered a deep sigh—“it isn’t easy.”
“No, sir,” Regard agreed emphatically. “That it isn’t.”
“Have you uncovered any further evidence?”
“A few little things,” Regard said, starting to drive a little faster. “The main thing is, we’ve got such a ground swell started that it’s goin’ to be easy to get a fast trial. I’ve already talked to friends of mine in the courts and they’re willin’ to shove it right along. I knew a lot of it would depend on who it went to for trial, and I’ve taken care of that, I think. I’ve also arranged for trial to be held here in Columbia instead of out there in the hills. The attorney general’s got a good deal of power in this state if he’s got the right friends. You can arrange a lot of things by mutual consent.”
“Oh,” said Tay. “That’s interesting.”
“Yes,” Regard agreed, abruptly cautious. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to think, Mr. Justice, that we’re goin’ to do any railroadin’ here, so don’t make a note of that to worry about if it comes up to Washington. We’re goin’ to abide by all the rules, you can be sure of that. We’re just goin’ to abide by ’em
fast,
that’s all, because that’s what we want and that’s what the country wants. I think the day is fast comin’ to an end for take-your-time justice in America. I think this case is goin’ to mark a turnin’ point. I think from now on people are goin’ to demand
and get
swift and effective justice.”
“If you can figure out how to clear dockets all over the country so that we can have this speed you want,” Tay said, “well and good. But how are you going to do that?”
Regard looked scornful.
“We’re goin’ to tell ’em to God damn
get movin’,”
he said, tromping down on the gas again. The car shot across a tree-blind intersection, narrowly missing a farm truck coming in from the right.
“Please,” Tay said. “Save your speed for the courts, okay?”
“Sorry,” Regard said with a smile, again slowing as abruptly as he had accelerated. “I just get excited thinkin’ about what a revolution we’re goin’ to bring about in the criminal justice system, that’s all. It’s goin’ to be
sensational.
I mean, we’ve got hold of somethin’ here, Mr. Justice, we really have. It’s all comin’ together, thanks to that bastard Holgren. Justice in America,” he said with a satisfied certainty, “is never goin’ to be the same again.”
“It does need reform,” Tay conceded as they began to enter the outskirts of the city and his host, of necessity, began to adopt a more leisurely pace. “My only concern is with the orderly processes of the law. Interfere with those and you’re in trouble with us on the Court, as you know. So watch it.”
“I most certainly will,” Regard said solemnly. “I may talk like a hick sometimes when I’m out in the boonies where they want to have you talk like a hick, but I’m not a hick, Mr. Justice, as you know very well.”
“Indeed you’re not,” Tay agreed. “You’re one hell of a smart man. Which, in some minds, makes you a dangerous one.”
Regard gave a contemptuous snort,
“To their complacency and their phony-liberal attitudes and their casual disregard for justice if it doesn’t suit their narrow ideologies, and their eternal coddlin’ of criminals who are the scum of the earth—yes, sir, Mr. Justice, you bet I am. And I’m goin’ to be even more dangerous to those things, too, now that I’ve roused up the country and started gettin’ the people behind me. A million, yea ten million, yea hundreds of millions, as that old preacher-man said. They’re comin’ to me, Mr. Justice. They’re flockin’ in from all over. They want Justice NOW! And they’re goin’ to get it. They’re not goin’ to be denied.”
“Just remember,” Tay said again, “that the Court does not take kindly to manhandling of the law.”
“The Court,” Regard said crisply, “is goin’ to do what the country wants, or the Court is goin’ to regret it.”
“Are you threatening the Supreme Court of the United States?” Tay demanded sharply.
“No, sir,” Regard said as he pulled smartly into the hospital drive. “I’m just sendin’ the Court a message about the way things are. I hope it’ll get through, Mr. Justice, as it would be too bad if the Court stood in the way of the popular will. Its members have been pretty shrewd about avoidin’ any such showdown in the past, and I suspect present members will be equally shrewd. I don’t anticipate any real trouble.” He gave Tay a bland glance. “Do you?”
“I hope not,” Tay said evenly.
“So do I, Mr. Justice,” Regard said calmly, “because if there
is
trouble based on tightenin’ up the criminal justice system, then I’m not so sure the Court will emerge on the popular side of it… Now, what the hell,” he said abruptly as he parked, “is that bedraggled little swamp-hen of a gal doin’ draggin’ her sorry tail in here to your hospital?”
Debbie Donnelson was standing on the stairs.
She started toward them at once.
“Mr. Justice!” she called. “Mr. Justice!”
“Miss Donnelson,” Regard said in a tired tone, “Miss Donnelson—Debbie—now, why do you want to bother the Justice? You know his little daughter is still in grave danger, you know he’s tired out and exhausted, you know—”
“If you will stop telling me what I know and get out of my way, Regard,” Debbie said curtly, “I believe I am old enough to convey to the Justice myself why I am here, and I believe he is old enough to comprehend it. Or am I mistaken, Mr. Justice?”
“I think you have made a reasonable assumption, Miss Donnelson,” Tay said, amused in spite of the heavy weight that seemed to settle upon him every time he approached the hospital. “What can I do for you?”
“You can talk to me,” she said in the same crisp way. “Or allow me to talk to you, rather. Is there somewhere here where we can go?”
“I don’t know—” he said uncertainly. Regard, with an elaborately suffering sigh, said, “There’s a small sun room I think we can get for you privately if you really want to talk to this person, Mr. Justice. I’ll go in and arrange it.”
“Thank you, Regard,” he said, and Debbie nodded in a businesslike way. “And thank you for the ride.”
“You’ve been to the funeral,” she said. “How was it?”
“Tell your client it was sad,” Regard snapped. “He’ll enjoy that, psychotic that he is.”
“Please continue to dislike him,” she remarked in a cold tone. “It will hopefully affect your judgment.”
“I despise him,” Regard said calmly, “but I assure you it won’t affect my judgment. If you’ll excuse me—” and he brushed on by and went in. They stood there without speaking until he reappeared: there was not, after all, much to say at that point. He returned and gestured them in. “It’s all yours. They’ll show you the way.”
“Thank you,” Tay said.
“Let me know if there’s any change with your daughter.”
“I will. Perhaps I’ll see you again before we go back to Washington.”
“I’ll make a point of it,” Regard said. “Enjoyed your company, enjoyed our talk. My best to Mrs. Barbour.”
And brushing past Debbie he loped off to his car, jumped in, slammed the door, backed out with a flourish and zoomed off.
“Damned reactionary,” Debbie said, watching him go. “Damned
misuser of the law.
But he’ll pay for it before I’m through with him. He’ll pay for it.”
“You’re a rather fierce young lady,” Tay observed. She gave him a sudden quick smile that lighted up her usually somber little face.
“I can be,” she said as they walked in and a nurse directed them to their impromptu conference room. “If necessary.”
“With such a client,” he remarked, “it may be. Now,” he said, forestalling retort by gesturing her to a chair and taking one himself, “what is it you want to talk to me about?”
“First of all,” she said with evident sincerity, “I want to tell you how delighted I am with your appointment. I think it’s a marvelous thing to have such a truly dedicated and proven liberal on the Court. I believe every progressive, right-thinking American had a lift of the heart when she or he heard about it. I know I did. We expect great things of you, Mr. Justice. Your appointment is cause for real hope and genuine rejoicing.”
“Well, thank you,” he said, flattered in spite of the warning knowledge that of course she wanted something or she wouldn’t be there. “You’re very kind and very generous.”
“I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“I saw your press conference on television. Does that apply to statements about your client?”
For a split second she hesitated; but she looked him straight in the eye.
“On the evidence now before us,” she said calmly, “I have no grounds for believing him to be other than innocent.”
