Missing Witness (47 page)

“I do admit that, sir,” Abigail said softly. “It caused me indescribable pain to decide between the desires of my father and my love for my fiancé.”

“But choose you did!” Mr. Saxton continued, “in contemptuous and flagrant disregard for your father.”

“He did protest, I do admit that.”

“And yet you expect this jury of good men, honest men, to accept your testimony as vouching for the moral character and truthfulness of the accused—while you, Miss Merriwether, admit that you have shamed your father's name and brought disgrace upon his good reputation.”

“I have said that it has caused me great pain.”

“What I put to you, Miss Merriwether, is that Isaac Joppa's life has been one long trail of wrongdoing. Do you not agree, Miss Merriwether, that Isaac Joppa was wrong in leaving his family—his mother and father—in the town of Bath, without a word? Without any notice of his intentions? Did you not tell him, yourself, that you believed it was wrong for him to leave in such a manner?”

“I did, sir.”

“Do you not agree, Miss Merriwether, that Isaac Joppa was wrong in his actions—wrong under the law of the Crown of England, and wrong in the sight of God—to desert his post on the ship
Intrepid
while under the authority of Captain Zebulun Boughton? Do you not agree that this conduct was wrong?”

“I told my dear Isaac, during our short conversation while he lay in prison awaiting his trial, that I do believe it was wrong for him to commit desertion. Yet, what I would do if I were in his untenable position—had I been on board that ship and had to make such a difficult decision, what choice I would have made I do not know…”

“Yet you contend, madam, that your love for him, and his for you, burned unabatedly during his entire one-year absence, and that he never would have willingly joined in the piratical designs of Captain Edward Teach, because his whole and only desire was to return to you?”

“I do believe that, sir. With all my heart and soul.”

“Is your love not misplaced in a fellow with such a history of wrongs?”

Abigail's eyes were beginning to tear up, and she retrieved a small white handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. Then she looked at Sir Alexander Saxton, the great legal lion of the English Crown, and answered his question with a voice that, though quiet, was intensely and unmistakably clear.

“Love, sir, keeps no records of wrongs.”

“Perhaps love does not,” Saxton said, rebuffing her, “but I can assure you, madam, that the law of England does! The proceedings of this court keep a record of wrongs. Know ye that full well! Do you not realize that, Miss Merriwether?”

“What I know,” Abigail said, her head lifted ever so slightly in the confidence of her position, “is that the law cuts roughly against the man I love, and whom I would marry. The hangman's noose at Newgate that you would propose for my beloved Isaac…such a hanging would be more criminal than all the acts of piracy that ever occurred on the high seas, sir. For I swear to you, on my oath, and before the sight of God, that my beloved Isaac is innocent of these charges.”

“Innocent!” Sir Alexander bellowed. “And what other evidence do you have for that preposterous pronouncement? Give forth that evidence! Come, Miss Merriwether, show us what new proof you have that the accused, this despicable man, was not guilty of piracy.”

Abigail paused. Her chin was trembling, but almost imperceptibly. She turned to the jury in the boxes at both sides of the great hall, and fixed her
eyes first on the one box, and then the other, scanning from right to left, back to front so that the gaze of each man met hers.

And then she spoke.

“This is my proof!” she declared with a sternness that surprised even Saxton. “I offer to you now, good gentlemen of the jury, my life. If you can be so blind as to condemn my beloved Isaac to an unjust death for his innocence and for the misery he suffered at the hands of cruel and criminal men, then I must be just as guilty. For in truth, I am just as innocent as he. If he be convicted and condemned on such faulty proof, then convict and condemn me also. And place my neck in a noose next to his. So his death could then be seen to be, in truth, as unjust as mine.”

A stunned silence swept the cavernous Justice Hall. After a full measure of time, that silence was broken only by Sir Alexander Saxton nervously clearing his throat, then making his way back to the long oak table that housed his papers, slightly adjusting his carefully curled wig as he did.

67

A
FTER CLOSING ARGUMENTS WERE CONCLUDED
, Judge Gadwell painstakingly read the instructions aloud to the jury.

Just as Virgil MacPherson had promised, the judge had selected, for the most part, MacPherson's version—including his definition of burden of proof. If the jury was going to believe the case presented by Will Chambers, then it would be an uphill struggle during the deliberations.

Now the courtroom was empty, except for Will and Jonathan Joppa. Boggs Beckford had hobbled back to his office. The judge had left the courthouse early for dinner. The clerk and the bailiff were gone. And Virgil MacPherson, Terrence Ludlow, and Blackjack Morgan had disappeared quickly—as soon as the jury had retired to the jury room.

Will glanced at his watch, then up at the large clock in the courtroom. It was twenty to five in the afternoon. The jury had been out for forty minutes.

“I suppose you've done this a lot,” Jonathan said. “I mean, doing this…sitting in an empty courtroom waiting for a jury to come back with a verdict.”

Will smiled, glancing over to the closed door of the jury room.

“More times than I can remember.”

“What happens if they have a question for the judge?”

“Sometimes that happens. If they have a question, they'll knock on that door, the bailiff will open it, and they'll hand a note to the bailiff. Then the bailiff calls up the judge, has the judge come back here in court. And the judge talks about it along with the attorneys. And then the judge has to make a decision on what response to give.”

After a few seconds of quiet, Jonathan spoke up again.

“Does it get any easier? I mean the waiting…the more cases you handle?”

“It never gets easier,” Will said flatly. “This is always the hardest part…when it's beyond your control. When you've done everything you can—all
the research, all the fact investigation, shaping your theory, carefully crafting your questions. Handling all the unexpected surprises during trial. But—waiting like this for the jury to give you a verdict—it's tough. There are no two ways about it. And the more you care about the case…and the client…the tougher it is.”

Will threw a glance at Jonathan, who had been listening intensely.

“Let me tell you something, Jonathan, I really do care a lot about this case. And you as a client. And, in a strange way, about Isaac Joppa too.”

Will glanced at his watch, and then he excused himself, just as Sally arrived with two Styrofoam cups of coffee.

He strolled out into the hallway of the deserted courthouse and called Fiona on his cell phone at Aunt Georgia's.

“How are ya, darling? Are you lying down?”

“I certainly am. Georgia is spoiling me rotten. She's waiting on me hand and foot. So…how's the case? Have you finished closing arguments?”

“Yes, and the judge instructed the jury and sent them into deliberations a little while ago.”

“Well, I miss you,” Fiona said tenderly. “I've been praying for you.”

“I can tell.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely So, how's our little one doing?”

“Oh, kicking. Moving around. Which overjoys me, of course. I'll go an hour or so, and then suddenly things will be quiet and I won't feel any movement. I'll get a little panicked. And then I'll get a little kick or roll, and I'll say ‘Thank you, Lord!' ”

“No bleeding?”

“No. Nothing,” Fiona's voice was now growing a little quieter. “This has been a real testing period for me, for my faith. It's one thing to sing about it and put it on my CD's—but now, flat on my back, I'm getting so many life lessons. About patience. Endurance. Trusting…”

“We're getting so close to the finish line,” Will said. “Pretty soon I'll get this verdict. And then I'll get back to you as quickly as possible.” He heard footsteps coming down the hall, turned, and saw the bailiff rounding the corner.

“The jury's got a question,” he said. “I've put a call in to the judge, and he's on his way. So's Virgil MacPherson.”

“Gotta go, honey. I love you like crazy. Take care of our baby.” Will snapped off his phone and hurried into the courtroom.

Will explained to Jonathan what had transpired. It would be a few minutes before Judge Gadwell and Virgil MacPherson, along with Virgil's client, would arrive. As they waited, the bailiff and the court clerk strolled in. The clerk sat at her desk just below the judge's bench, and the bailiff took his position in front of the door to the jury room.

“Were you on duty the other day when they were calling up the extra deputies to go over to Stony Island?” The clerk asked.

The bailiff shook his head.

“I wasn't on duty, and they didn't call me up—but I know a couple of guys who ended up spending the day over there making sure that people stayed off the property.”

The clerk stood up and walked over to the bailiff.

“Where in the world did all that start?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“I heard they tracked it down to a comment that was made by Carlton Robideau.”

“Robideau? He's the guy who does the diving, right? Gives diving instructions? And works for Blackjack Morgan's operation?”

“Yeah, that's the guy,” the bailiff said in a whisper, but loud enough for Will and Jonathan Joppa to hear. “He was on a drinking binge and made a comment to some of his buddies about buried treasure on Stony Island—and the next thing you know, the rumor's flying around all over Cape Hatteras and along the Banks.”

“Anybody ask him why he thought the treasure was there?” the clerk asked in hoarse whisper.

“No. Problem is…nobody can seem to find him. He's probably somewhere sleeping off his drunk. He'll show up in a day or so, I suppose. Then they'll question him.”

Jonathan turned to Will.

“What is going on here? I heard about all the treasure hunters showing up on Stony Island all of a sudden and tramping all over the property. But I figured it was just another of those rumors. But that…” Jonathan said, nodding toward the bailiff, who had now resumed his position, “that makes it sound like this may be connected to Morgan. What do you make of all of this?”

Will shrugged. But before he could respond, Virgil MacPherson, with Terrence Ludlow in tow, came breezing in, briefcase in hand.

“Jury's got a question?” MacPherson asked. “Anybody know what the question is?”

“No…I'm sure we're not gonna hear until the judge gets here,” Will responded.

MacPherson sat down at the table with Ludlow. They whispered something back and forth, and then MacPherson laughed loudly, with Ludlow snickering too. Will turned. Blackjack Morgan was, as usual, sitting alone in the back. A few minutes later, the bailiff called out, “All rise,” and Judge Gadwell entered from his chambers.

He had a small piece of paper in his hand.

“Gentlemen, the jury has a question for the court. The message was received by the bailiff at four-forty-eight
P.M
. I see that both counsel and their clients are present. So I will proceed to read the note to counsel and get comments before I respond to their question.”

The judge began reading. “ ‘Your Honor. The jury would like to know the following: If we find that Isaac Joppa was guilty of piracy, then is our job done? Or are there other issues that would have to be decided?' ”

Jonathan could immediately see the disappointment in Will's expression.

This was bad news. The mere framing of the question showed that they entertained the possibility of a quick finding that Isaac had committed acts of piracy—and thus wanted to make sure that the scope of their duties was limited only to that narrow issue. Unless there was an additional note or comment clarifying or modifying the impact of the first question, Will's case might be lost.

“ ‘On the other hand…' ” the judge continued with the jury's message, “ ‘if we find that Isaac Joppa was innocent, then are there further issues that we should decide?' ”

Will leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief.

“There it is, Counsel. There are the questions. How should we proceed?”

Will Chambers started first. He indicated that, obviously, the jury needed to be reinstructed that the only issue to be decided was the fact question inserted in the written verdict—namely, whether Isaac Joppa, on or about December 5, 1717, was guilty of participating in acts of piracy against the sloop
Marguerite
. However, Will did indicate, that the jury may have been misled by Virgil MacPherson's improper arguments implying that a great deal was riding on their verdict…creating, perhaps, an impression that there were other issues for them to decide.