Authors: Allen Drury
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Political, #Contemporary Fiction
Decision (35 page)
Again a great approving shout went up; and Tay thought with a desperate sadness,
Moss, oh Moss. What a mistake, what a terrible mistake.
“Sue-Ann and I,” Moss concluded, voice again close to breaking, “have already expressed our gratitude to our dear friends of South Carolina in the statement we issued two days ago. But let me reaffirm it to you now. Dear friends, your love is our great strength; and your great strength has the gratitude of our love.”
Another swell of sound, this time respectful, sympathetic, almost tender. As it died away Regard said quietly over the bullhorn,
“And now, friends, we’ll be on our way. We will be back in court tomorrow morning to get this distasteful but necessary job done just as fast as we can. Have faith. We are not going to disappoint you. Thank you for your patience. Good-bye and God bless.”
And he gestured Moss and Tay before him as the crowd, with a last flurry of shouts and handclaps, watched them go. Carefully the Justices descended, Tay first; and when they reached the ground, shielded from the crowd for a second as Tay turned toward Moss to give him a helping hand down the last rung of the ladder, their eyes met and Tay shook his head sadly.
“You shouldn’t have, buddy,” he said in a near whisper.
“You don’t have a dead daughter,” Moss replied in a choked voice with a look as though he had never seen him before. “It changes one.”
“Into the car as fast as you can, gentlemen,” Regard whispered urgently behind them, “and let’s get out of here before the mood changes again. I’m sorry you have to sit beside that bastard but I don’t dare let anybody else drive him and I don’t dare let the two of them sit together. She might cut his ropes and slip him a gun to turn on us.”
“You don’t really think so!” Tay exclaimed as they hurried toward the Mercedes.
Regard shook his head grimly.
“No, not really, I suppose. But you never know with her type. They can get pretty damned intense sometimes, particularly if she wants to get into his pants, as I expect she will sooner or later. Anyway, I’m not takin’ any chances. In you go.”
Moss hesitated. Tay said quickly, “It’s all right, Moss, I’ll do it,” and slid in beside the defendant, who drew away from him as much as possible as Moss followed and closed the door.
“Don’t worry,” Tay said savagely. “I don’t want to touch you either, Holgren.”
“It’s the stink I got from his jail,” Earle said, nodding toward Regard as he started the motor, turned on the siren, backed the car around in a wide, screaming half-circle and rocketed out onto the road back to Columbia, followed by Jenkins Terwilliger and his friends, two police cars, and, trailing and complaining, as many of the media vans and cars as could get organized to follow them.
“You couldn’t possibly get as much stink from that jail as you brought into it,” Regard told him as he pushed the speedometer up to seventy and shot ahead of the procession. “Why don’t you just close your big, smart, clever mouth and let us get along without the benefit of your wise-ass remarks for a little while? Pretend you’re back on the van about to be lynched. I noticed you were pretty quiet then.”
“I must protest—” Debbie began primly, and Regard half-swung toward her, which prompted Earle to yell, “Keep your eyes on the road, you damned jerk! Do you want to kill us all?”
“Only you, sweetheart,” Regard said savagely, but complying. “Only you.”
“Well, that’s too bad, man,” Earle said with elaborate cheerfulness, “because I was just about to thank you for saving my life back there. That was a brave thing you did and we appreciate it, don’t we, counsel?”
For a moment no one said anything: the sheer effrontery of it was too much. Then Debbie said cautiously, “I think perhaps you had better not say anything more, Earle.”
“So why shouldn’t I ‘say anything more,’ counsel?” Earle demanded, mocking her tone. “And why are
you
mad at me, man? I just wanted to thank you for a real great thing, that’s all. You saved my life, man. You saved an innocent soul. Can’t I thank you for that, man?”
Again for a moment no one said anything; but up the back of Regard Stinnet’s neck a red flush crept, and on the wheel his hands grew knuckle-white. Abruptly he slowed the car. Squealing brakes behind indicated that his startled caravan was doing the same.
Deliberately he reached up and adjusted the rear-view mirror so that he was looking straight into Earle Holgren’s eyes.
“Listen,
man,”
he said with a softness much more impressive than rage. “Don’t you thank me, you worthless son of a bitch. I’m going to see you dead if it’s the last thing I do. But it’s going to be in the right way, at the right time and in the right place. I’m not goin’ to see poor old South Carolina pinned to the wall for a lynching one more time just because of you, you murderous piece of slime. You’ve done enough damage to this state and her fine people already. I’ll meet you and your smart little lady here in court and we’ll talk about it then. I don’t want to hear one more word out of you about anything until you’re up there on the witness stand. So shut
up,
hear?”
And with a sudden vicious distaste that rocked them all back against their seats he stomped on the gas and got them the hell out of there; and neither the prisoner nor his counsel said another word to anybody all the rest of the way.
***
Chapter 2
Once again they ran the jeering gauntlet, somewhat smaller today. Police stationed every five feet faced the crowd on each side, hands on guns. Regard was taking no chances from now on. The defendant arrived in an armored van accompanied by ten motorcycle outriders, disembarked in the center of a sixteen-man square of guards and was hurried forward at a near run to the door. Again obscene insults were shouted, rotten eggs and plastic bags of cow dung thrown. None struck him or Debbie, hurrying after. He was still ostentatiously limping but had no choice but to keep the pace set by his protectors. At the door he half-turned as though to repeat his gesture of yesterday. The nearest guard shoved him roughly forward before he could complete it, and, almost stumbling, he disappeared inside to a final yell of contempt. An expression of naked animal hatred crossed his face for a moment as he was hurried down the hallway but by the time he entered the courtroom he had recaptured his normal amused, superior air.
Tay and Moss were in place, their wives absent, Sue-Ann at home forcing herself to begin answering the thousands of messages of condolence that had flooded in, Mary still grieving over her daughter’s comatose form at Richland Memorial Hospital. The elder Holgrens were also there, and today on entry had ventured a shy, sad, tentative half-nod toward the two Justices. Moss stared straight through them, unforgiving, but this time Tay managed a meager but not unfriendly smile in return. This seemed to ease them somewhat and he felt better for it.
Court was called to order, Judge Williams walked briskly in and took his place. The writing press leaned forward expectantly, and from their newly built platform along the wall to the judge’s right, the pool television crew kept its camera moving restlessly from face to face.
“Before we return to counsel for the state,” Perlie Williams said—as he had been requested to do in a private phone call an hour ago—“is there anything either counsel wishes to say to the court?”
“Yes, your honor,” Debbie said, standing up and bowing to him. “If your honor please, I should like to have placed in the official record front pages and editorials from the
New York Times,
the
New York Times,
the Chicago
Tribune,
the New Orleans
Times Picayune
and the Charleston, South Carolina,
News
and
Courier.
They are representative of many other journals, all paying high and deserved tribute to the personal bravery and decisive intervention yesterday of Mr. Regard Stinnet in what could have been a most unfortunate happening for my client and for everyone concerned with the preservation of law and order in America.
“I wish also to congratulate the members of his organization, Justice NOW! who were willing to respond so promptly and with such a sense of responsibility to his appeal for law and order. This speaks well for the constructive work that Justice NOW! may be able to do in the future.”
For a second Regard’s face was a study. Earle shot her a sideways quizzical look and both in the room and outside there was a sound of hesitant puzzlement: such words from such a source were the last things anyone had expected to hear. Then Regard bowed low.
“I thank counsel again,” he said, though with just the slightest trace of a sardonic wink that only Perlie Williams and Debbie could see. “She is most kind to my poor self and to a great spontaneous grassroots movement which does indeed seek to strengthen law and order… In regard to which, your honor,” he added casually, “I would like to place in the record a letter from a lawyer in New York who does not seem to agree as wholeheartedly as Miss Donnelson with either Justice NOW! or its stated purpose of strengthening the criminal justice system in America. It is apparent from this letter that there are some in the legal profession who are not quite so enthused about it all as she and I evidently are. If it please the court—”
“Your honor!” Debbie said sharply as Earle leaned forward, suddenly intent. “I feel I must object, your honor, because I really don’t see what an extraneous expression of opinion concerning Justice NOW! by some unknown lawyer in New York has to do with this case. Whoever this lawyer is, he has nothing to do with this case.”
“Does he have something to do with this case, counsel?” Perlie Williams inquired of Regard—pursuant to the second private phone call he had received prior to today’s convening.
Regard studied the letter and then looked up blandly directly into the television cameras.
“I am not sure, your honor,” he said thoughtfully. “However, opposing counsel seems to be genuinely concerned about it, so perhaps if she
insists
—”
“Your honor,” Debbie said calmly, though she could see from the stirring in the media that it was too late, Regard had their interest, he’d give it to them and they’d have it nationwide within the hour, “possibly I
am
making too much of this. Let counsel go ahead and put it in, if he wishes. I don’t see the pertinence, but—” she turned away indifferently and began going through her own papers. Something about the set of Earle Holgren’s shoulders, however, betrayed them both.
“Who is this letter from, counselor?” Judge Williams inquired.
“Shucks!” Regard said. “It may not be the one Miss Donnelson thinks it is, at all. She’s probably right. Let’s just forget it.”
“You have
me
intrigued, now,” Perlie Williams said with a smile. “Let me have the name, counsel, and I’ll decide.”
“Well,” Regard said with some reluctance, “if your honor insists, it’s Harrison Aboud.” Earle said distinctly, “Damn!” There was a stirring from the audience, a sudden chorus of heavy booing from outside. “Never heard of him much, myself.”
“Counsel is being disingenuous now, I’m afraid,” Judge Williams remarked. “Harry Aboud has defended virtually every dissenter, protester, left-wing bomber, murderer, terrorist, communist, social disrupter in the United States for the past twenty years.” Suddenly his voice changed. He was for a moment no longer the amiable presider but abruptly the cold probing inquisitor. “Why isn’t he here, Miss Donnelson? Why are you representing this defendant instead of Harry Aboud, who is obviously interested?”
“Because this defendant asked me to, your honor,” Debbie said, calmly still though her tightly clasped hands showed strain.
“How did the defendant know you, Miss Donnelson?”
“As I have told the press, and as your honor may have read,” Debbie said carefully, “I happen to agree with the many millions in this country and the world who fear and abhor atomic power. Even though wrongly accused, as I believe we will be able to show, I felt that this defendant also shared those views. Therefore I felt that someone who felt as I do was being falsely accused and needed help. So I offered my assistance to him and he accepted.”
“Was this at Mr. Aboud’s suggestion?”
“I had never discussed this matter with Mr. Aboud.”
“I didn’t ask if you had discussed it with him, I asked if he suggested that you offer your services to the defendant.”
Debbie’s chin came up defiantly.
“No!”
“Your honor,” Regard said, “I suggest counsel be put under oath.”
“I am judge in this court, Mr. Stinnet,” Perlie Williams said calmly, “and I intend to let counsel do it her way. She prefers to say that Mr. Aboud did not suggest her defense of Mr. Holgren. That is the way she wants it to stand and that is the way we will let it stand. Unless counsel wishes to amend her answer.”
“No, your honor,” Debbie said, breathing a little faster but otherwise seemingly unperturbed. “I do not.”
“Very well. Does counsel for the state wish to read Mr. Aboud’s letter into the record?”
“No, thanks, your honor,” Regard said. “It is the usual cr—it’s the usual stuff about how impossible it is for a defendant to get a fair trial in America and how awful Justice NOW! is, and how dangerous it is to our free, liberty-lovin’, democratic way of life, to whose preservation Mr. Aboud is of course so notoriously dedicated. It mentions the defendant, but only as a case in point. I’ll have copies for the media. Like I said, it really doesn’t need to go into the record.”
“Well, by now, counsel,” Perlie Williams remarked, “I think it might just as well, don’t you? Miss Donnelson has said she doesn’t object. And I don’t object. So in it goes. Does counsel have any other exhibits at the moment?”
“Not at the moment, your honor. But as my first witness, I’d like to call Sheriff William Lanahan of Pomeroy Station, if you please.”
“Your honor,” Debbie said as the young officer who had found the bodies of Janet and John Lennon Peacechild stood up. “Your honor, I request that further proceedings in this case be delayed for one month.”
“Now, why,” Perlie Williams inquired gently, as the room and media erupted in a babble of urgent whisperings and a great boo rose from outside, “would you request that, Miss Donnelson?”
“Because I submit, your honor,” Debbie said, lips pursed and expression grim, “that in the general hurly-burly of trying to rush this defendant headlong to perdition, the matter of his psychiatric condition has been entirely overlooked. We do not know what it was at the time of the alleged crime committed at Pomeroy Station by person or persons unknown”—there was an angry hoot from outside, but she went defiantly on—“we do not know what it has been in the past—we do not know what it is now. I am not even sure that he is mentally able to stand trial. If this trial is to be fairly conducted, it seems to me a month is not too much to ask for expert and qualified individuals to determine these things.”
“Miss Donnelson,” Judge Williams said patiently, “you will recall that in conference at the bench prior to start of trial, I remarked that if you were perceived by the public to be deliberately and unduly delaying these proceedings, it would not do your client any good. Now are you very sure you wish to pursue this tactic? Particularly for such a length of time?”
“Other defendants in other cases undergo psychiatric tests for months, your honor,” she observed with a show of indignation. “Is my client to be denied
one
month, simply because of the hysteria whipped up here by counsel for the state and his organization?”
“Both of which counsel was praisin’ to the skies not fifteen minutes ago!” Regard exclaimed indignantly. Outside the boo rose again.
“Yes, I was!” Debbie said angrily. “And I think yesterday
you
showed courage and
they
showed good sense in following your advice. But good qualities are not being shown in some other aspects of this case, and this is one of them. My client has a right to psychiatric examination—”
“Oh, the state will admit he’s a psychopath!” Regard shot back.
“I object, your honor!” Debbie snapped.
“Objection sustained,” Perlie Williams agreed promptly. “Counsel will restrain himself, if possible. Or I’ll restrain him. Miss Donnelson, tell the court why you think an entire month is necessary for psychiatric examination.”
“Because, your honor,” Debbie said earnestly, while her client and everyone else studied her dark, determined little face and listened carefully to her clear, incisive voice, “Earle Holgren at this moment is an unknown quantity to all of us here. All we know is that he was seen in the vicinity of the bombing at Pomeroy Station: there is no proof that he did it. We know that he was brutally set upon and beaten by so-called ‘peace officers.’ We know that he was denied his right to be informed of his rights, and we know that he was denied his immediate right to be represented by counsel. We know that yesterday he was almost lynched by a mob of South Carolina citizens. We know that he is the object and the victim of a concerted drive to rush him through trial with such speed that there is very grave danger that he will in no way receive a fair hearing. We know that he must be defended in an atmosphere of bias, prejudice and hatred. But what is Earle Holgren really like? That we do not know.”
Distantly came another angry hoot. Many obviously thought they did. She went on, chin a little higher, expression still more determined.
“I have talked to my client, your honor, and of course those conversations are privileged communications between defendant and lawyer. But I can tell you that out of them I have formed a picture of a product of a luxurious but oppressive home”—the elder Holgrens looked at one another with a startled dismay that brought murmurs of sympathy from their neighbors and a quick, contemptuous glance from their son—“who early became convinced, most sincerely and idealistically, that much needs to be changed in America; who has devoted his life to date to trying to bring those changes about; and who is motivated always by the highest ideals and dreams for his country and his people—”
“Miss Donnelson,” Judge Williams interrupted dryly, “if you don’t mind, I must ask you again why you consider it necessary for your client to have a psychiatric examination.”
“Because he has been hurt by life!” she exclaimed angrily. “Because his ideals and dreams have been thwarted, warped and frustrated! Because who knows what damage has been done inside to a highly intelligent, perceptive and sensitive mind! Because the very life of a valuable human being is at stake! Because—”
But this time her words were drowned in a wave of booing that swept not only the crowd outside but the audience in the courtroom. It was several moments before Perlie Williams, vigorously pounding his gavel, was able to restore order.
“The court,” he said when he had finally secured it, “will remind the audience once—just once—that order is to be maintained in this courtroom. If the audience cannot be in order it will be directed to leave and the room will be cleared of everyone but the principals in the case and the media. This warning will not be repeated. Miss Donnelson, you do not, in my estimation, seem to be getting much of anywhere. However, since the court does not wish to either endanger—or enhance—your chance for appeal if you should ultimately wish to make one, I am willing to go through the process of psychiatric examination of the defendant. But I am not willing to take forever to do it. The public interest in a swift conclusion of this matter is too great, as you yourself are well aware. I will not give you one month. I will give you one week.”
