The Election (9 page)

Local attorneys filled the empty chairs in the jury box on the left-hand side of the courtroom, waiting for their clients' cases to be called. Jake noticed Julie Anderson, the assistant district attorney, sitting at one of the two tables in the front of the courtroom. Although she was barely three years removed from law school, she looked important as she scribbled some notes on a yellow notepad before the arraignments began. On the table in front of her was a banker's box, crammed full of thin manila folders. In each folder were the charges pending against each criminal defendant being arraigned that day. Jake knew that one of the folders bore the name of Jedediah McClellan.

Jed's wife, Ruth, and his mother, Naomi, sat on the pew immediately behind the bar that separated the spectator seats from the area of the courtroom where the attorneys, defendants, and judge were located. The two ladies clutched tissues, and Ruth repeatedly dabbed her tissue against the corners of her deep brown eyes to dry the tears before they ran down her face. Naomi's chin was firm, resolved. Only occasionally did she need to dry the few tears that welled up in her eyes.

Jake had gone to see Ruth soon after he left Jed the previous day. He tried to explain to her what was happening to Jed, but it was difficult for her to understand. When he saw her now, he recalled their conversation of the previous afternoon.

“But, Jake, why? Why is Jed being held? He'd never do this,”
Ruth said.
“And what am I going to tell the children? How can I tell them their daddy can't come home? And why he can't come home?”

Even now Ruth's pleas rang in Jake's mind. When he gave her Jed's message—“
I love you”
—she cried even harder.

Jake wondered if Ruth and the kids had cried themselves to sleep.

Now he leaned over the bar and whispered to Ruth and Naomi, “I'm going to do the best I can to help Jed. Hopefully Judge Prickett will set a bail we can afford.”

“We've raised ten thousand dollars from family and church friends,” Naomi responded, her eyes and voice hopeful.

Jake had to tell her the truth. “I doubt that will be enough, Ms. McClellan. That will only purchase a hundred thousand dollar bail bond, and Judge Prickett will likely set bail much higher than that.” Seeing the dejection on the women's faces, he added, “But I'll try. I'll try to get his bail down to one hundred thousand dollars.”

Jake moved to the table opposite Assistant DA Anderson. He watched as the court security officers led a line of inmates from the holding cell into the courtroom. They were all dressed in orange jumpsuits, with Madison County CJC printed on the back. Their hands and feet were shackled to the hands and feet of the inmates in front and in back of them. They wore shoes without shoestrings that resembled bathroom slippers.

Jake saw Jed in the back of the line. The stubble on his face was visible across the room, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. He looked confused and out of place. He was chained to a young white male with tattoos covering both arms. The white inmate, who had probably been arrested on some drug-possession charge, more resembled a murder suspect than did Jed.

As the courtroom deputy began calling the various cases from the docket one by one, in chronological order, each defendant entered a plea of either guilty or not guilty. If a defendant pleaded guilty, the judge scheduled a sentencing hearing to follow in a few days. If he pleaded not guilty, the district attorney recommended bail, and the judge usually followed the DA's recommendation.

“
State of Tennessee versus Jedediah McClellan,
” called out the courtroom deputy from her seat next to the court security officer.

Jed, still shackled to the other prisoner, stepped forward from the line of inmates as best he could.

Jake walked to the podium separating the table for the criminal defense lawyers from the one for the prosecution. “Jake Reed for the defendant, Your Honor.”

“How does your client plead, Mr. Reed?” Judge Prickett inquired.

“Not guilty,” Jake answered firmly.

“All right,” the judge commented. He then faced the prosecution table. “Bail recommendations?”

“The People request that the defendant be held without bail, Your Honor,” stated Assistant DA Anderson. “He is charged with first-degree murder in the vicious slaying of Jesse Thompson. We may amend later to increase the charge to capital murder.”

Jake knew that last statement was for him. He received the message loud and clear. “Your Honor, my client is a lifelong resident of this county. He is not a flight risk. He has family here and doesn't even own a passport. We request that bail be set at one hundred thousand dollars.”

“I can't let him out, Mr. Reed,” Judge Prickett said without hesitation. “Bail is denied, and the defendant is remanded to the criminal justice center.” He banged his gavel a little harder than usual for the dramatic effect. “Next case,” he barked.

As Jed stepped back into line with the other inmates, he glanced at Ruth and his mother.

Jake was glad it was only a brief connection. Anything longer would have caused an eruption of emotions that none of them could have controlled.

After Jed and the other inmates were led back to their cells, Jake ushered Ruth and Naomi into a side room in the rear of the courtroom before they exited into the hallway.

“Ruth, Ms. McClellan,” he began, looking back and forth between the two women, “I know this is difficult, but I need you right now. More importantly, Jed needs you. He's in there all by himself, and he needs you to be strong.”

“It's hard to be strong,” Ruth said, almost in tears again. “What are me and the kids supposed to do? Jed is all we have, and now I can't even talk to him.”

“Ain't no black man gonna get a fair trial in Madison County, and you know it,” Naomi said, waving her index finger at Jake. “Only God can help Jed now.”

“I'll be honest with both of you,” Jake said. “I don't know what will happen to Jed. I don't know if a jury will find him guilty or innocent. And if he's found guilty, I don't know what his penalty will be. What I do know is that Jed needs all three of us right now.” Jake eyed each woman individually. “So this is not the time for your emotions to get the best of you. When we leave the courtroom, there will be several television cameras and newspaper reporters waiting. We are going to walk out that door and tell the world that Jedediah McClellan is innocent of this crime,” he stated very calmly but sternly. “I need you there beside me, showing your support for Jed.”

After their brief meeting Jed led Naomi and Ruth out of the courtroom and into the horde of reporters.

“Mr. Reed, what do you think about the judge's decision to hold your client without bail?” came the first question.

Hot white lights burned from the remote television cameras, virtually blinding the trio. Jake stepped ahead of Ruth and Naomi to shield them.

“We are certainly disappointed, but not surprised,” Jake responded quickly. He took control of the press conference. “However, we are confident this is only a temporary setback and that justice will prevail in the end. Mr. McClellan will soon be home with his family, where he belongs.”

“Mrs. McClellan,” another reporter asked, thrusting the mike Ruth's direction, “how does it feel to be married to a man who is accused of murder?”

Before Ruth had time to answer, Jake interrupted. He felt the need to protect Ruth, as if she were his wife. “Mrs. McClellan has no comment at this time. Please excuse us.”

Grasping one of Ruth's arms and one of Naomi's, Jake pushed his way through the crowd.

He had a lot of work to do on the case. And he was worried. Would he be able to save Jed's life, no matter what he did?

Whether Jed was innocent or guilty, the outcome didn't look good.

Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

Claudia Duval had been reared in a small town in north Mississippi. She'd been captain of the cheerleading squad, a member of the debate team, and an honor student. To the other students in her high school, she appeared to have everything together.

But how well Claudia knew that appearances could be deceiving. Her friends couldn't see how much she hurt on the inside. The pain had begun when her father died suddenly when she was nine. She had no brothers or sisters, so his death left her and her mother, Charlotte, all alone.

When her mother began working two jobs to make ends meet, she and Claudia drifted apart. By the time Claudia was a teenager, she and her mother were engaged in a bitter war of wills, and their relationship deteriorated virtually beyond repair. Claudia couldn't wait until her high-school graduation when she could move out of the house.

She was barely out of high school and only eighteen when she found the quickest road away from her mother. His name was Jimmy Simpson. He was a nice young man from all appearances, but it didn't take long after their marriage for Claudia to realize her mistake. They were both young and immature, and Claudia didn't really love him. She'd simply married him out of spite toward her mother.

Claudia and Jimmy had been married for less than a year when she found him with another woman. The divorce was simple. They had no assets to divide or debts to allocate. Claudia resumed using her maiden name.

That was eighteen years ago, and Claudia hadn't been involved in a serious relationship since. Of course, there had been other men in her life, but she could never make a real commitment.

After her divorce Claudia moved back home with her mother. That, too, was a mistake, but Claudia was stuck. She had no money and no other place to go. The fighting resumed, and Claudia moved out for good a couple of summers later. Over the next couple of years she visited her mother infrequently, and the visits were rarely pleasant. It wasn't long before Claudia stopped trying.

Claudia hadn't been to her mother's home in the last fifteen years. Their relationship had deteriorated so far that the last time Claudia had even spoken to her mother via phone was Christmas Day, ten years ago.

Not long after they last spoke on the phone, Claudia's life took a turn for the better. She moved to Hilton Head Island just prior to the local real estate boom and obtained her real-estate license. Every year for the last five she had been a multimillion-dollar producer for her agency.

Six months ago she had met Hudson Kinney at a black-tie party at the yacht club in Sea Pines. He was fifteen years her senior, but he made her laugh. Quickly she became attracted to him, believing she had found the one man who could truly make her happy. He was a commercial real estate developer from the Northeast and spent practically every weekend on Hilton Head. After he met Claudia, his trips became more frequent. Within a few weeks he convinced her to move into the house he owned in the Palmetto Dunes Plantation on the east side of the island.

It was Friday morning at Hilton Head, and Claudia again stood on the veranda, drinking a cup of her favorite flavored coffee. Hudson had arrived late last night and would leave again Monday morning. She treasured every moment she had with him.

Early morning was Claudia's favorite time of day. She took pleasure in the serenity that washed in with the ocean's waves. It wasn't long before Hudson joined her on the veranda. She knew he loved this place as much as she did. He often told her that the sound of the ocean crashing onto the beach and the gentle breeze relaxed him. For the few days he was there every week, he was able to forget about his hectic business and the stresses that accompanied it. Claudia and Hudson affectionately called their home “Eden,” because it truly was their paradise. As they gazed out over the tranquil Atlantic Ocean, Hudson gently stroked Claudia's long blond hair.

 

“Is that our guy?” Agent Bill Osborne peered through his binoculars from a window in the house next door to the romantic-looking couple.

“I think so,” Agent Al Moyers responded. He focused the lens of the 35mm camera on the balcony next door and snapped off several photographs.

“Let's keep an eye on them.”

 

Jackson, Tennessee

Air Force Two touched down at McKellar-Sipes Regional Airport in Jackson just after 9:00 a.m. on the Friday following Jesse Thompson's murder. The funeral was scheduled for ten o'clock, and Vice President Burke had agreed to give the eulogy.

As Ed and Millie exited the airplane, they were greeted by several local Democratic politicians, as was customary everywhere Ed went. The local politicians would escort the Burkes to the funeral. An opportunity to be seen with the popular vice president could not be missed, Ed mused wryly.

Secret-service agents had arrived on Thursday to map the vice president's route from the airport to the funeral service and back. Air Force Two would be in the air again by noon. Ed and Millie were also accompanied on the trip by Ben Tobias. Since the election was just over two months away, Ed knew his campaign manager needed every moment with him.

The motorcade left the airport and turned east on Airways Boulevard. Ed had been told that thousands of people, hoping for a glimpse of the vice president, were standing in the August heat along the route to the funeral home. The sight was indeed impressive.

It confirmed what Ed knew to be true. The polls conducted by his pollsters Thursday night indicated his lead over Mac Foster had grown to 15 percentage points. Eighty percent of those polled stated they felt Vice President Burke was a man of compassion but also a man of principle. The results of the polls showed that the voters wanted a president who was a great leader, but also a president with feelings. Ed had convinced them he was that man.

“The polls look good, Mr. Vice President,” Ben commented as the motorcade crossed over the Highway 45 bypass that encircled Jackson and raced toward downtown.

“I agree, Ben,” Ed replied. “They do look promising. But we need to make sure we don't lose this momentum. I want to have the largest winning margin in the history of presidential elections.”

“Let's not get too greedy,” Millie advised. “An appearance of arrogance will turn these people against you.” She pointed out the window at the people who lined the street. “Continue to look statesmanlike, but show some humility.”

“You're right, Millie,” Ed agreed. “Foster is scrambling to do the correct thing in the wake of Jesse's death, and nobody is listening to him. We need to keep the people's attention on our campaign. We also need to make sure that Jesse's murderer stays in jail, at least until the election is over. Ben, find out who the prosecutor is, and have him ride back to the airport with us after the funeral.”

The motorcade pulled into the parking lot of George A. Smith & Sons Funeral Home in downtown Jackson at approximately 9:45 a.m. Two secret-service agents ushered Ed and Millie into the building. Ben remained in the limousine to make phone calls.

The crowd that had begun arriving at the funeral home at 8:30 a.m. was still growing when Ed and Millie arrived. Ed knew that most of the people were not there to pay their respects to Jesse Thompson. They were there to see the vice president. However, the typical campaign signs were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the signs held by the throng of Burke supporters contained words that expressed the people's sympathy for Edward Burke: “We Love You, and God Bless You.”

Ed had the voters right where he wanted them, and he knew it.

He and Millie seized the moment, stopping on the top of the concrete steps leading to the front door of the funeral home. They turned and waved to the mass of people as if to say, “Thank you.”

Ed knew the touching scene would be replayed repeatedly throughout the country on the evening news.

The funeral service was conducted in the chapel adjacent to the funeral home. The small chapel was furnished with several rows of padded church pews. Flower arrangements lined the walls and the space behind the casket. For obvious reasons the casket was closed, and an American flag was draped over it. A recent eight-by-ten photograph of Jesse Thompson sat on top of the casket among a large spray of roses.

Ed and Millie sat on the front row of the chapel beside Earline Thompson. Ed slipped his arm around Earline and gave her a gentle hug. “How are you making it, Earline?”

“I'm doing fine.” Her chin lifted in a determined gesture. “It was so good of you to come.”

“Millie and I wouldn't miss it. Jesse and I were friends for a long time.”

The organist began to softly play “Amazing Grace” as a minister approached the pulpit. Although Jesse Thompson had not attended a church service in twenty years, he still considered himself a member of Highland Avenue United Methodist Church. Reverend Ronald Holmes, the pastor of that church, would conduct the funeral service.

“We are here today to pay tribute to Jesse Lamar Thompson,” Reverend Holmes began.

Ed listened as Reverend Holmes said a few complimentary things about Jesse and then read a few verses from the Bible. In closing, he reminded those in attendance how important it was to make sure their eternal affairs were in order.

After Reverend Holmes finished his prepared remarks, he invited Vice President Burke to deliver the eulogy. Ed somberly made his way to the pulpit. He shook hands with Reverend Holmes, who then settled into a chair behind the pulpit.

Ed grabbed the top of each side of the pulpit like a Southern revival preacher about to deliver a fire-and-brimstone sermon. “Friends, we have lost a very dear person and a leader in this community with the death of Jesse Thompson. Jesse and I were friends since we both were students at Vanderbilt. I remember…”

Ed continued his eulogy for several minutes. He was very melancholy. Not once did he mention punishment for Jesse's killer or the presidential campaign. His remarks were appropriate and delivered humbly.

The voters would trust him even more.

 

While Ed gave Jesse Thompson's eulogy, Ben Tobias tracked down DA Drake Highfill. Drake was in attendance at the funeral, his secretary told Ben. Upon hearing that, Ben slipped quietly in the back door of the chapel as Ed's eulogy was coming to an end and asked a sheriff's deputy to identify Highfill. The deputy pointed to a man sitting on the left side of the chapel, six rows from the front.

After Ed concluded the eulogy, the funeral director asked that everyone stand as the pallbearers carried the casket containing Jesse Thompson's body to the waiting hearse for transport to Riverside Cemetery. Earline Thompson, accompanied by Ed and Millie, followed the pallbearers up the middle aisle and out the door in the rear of the chapel.

As the remainder of the crowd exited the chapel, Ben approached Drake Highfill.

“Mr. Highfill,” Ben greeted him, extending his right hand, “I'm Ben Tobias, Vice President Burke's campaign manager. Your secretary said I could find you here.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.” Drake shook the extended hand.

“Vice President Burke asked if you would be kind enough to accompany him on his return to the airport.”

“I'd be glad to,” responded Drake enthusiastically.

Ben and Drake waited in Ed's limousine as Ed and Millie said good-bye to Earline Thompson and apologized for not being able to attend the graveside services. Within a few moments Ed and Millie entered the car through the rear driver's-side door.

“Mr. Vice President,” Ben stated, “this is Drake Highfill. Drake is the prosecutor you were asking me about earlier.”

“Drake.” Ed clasped Drake's outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. This is my wife, Millie.”

“Mrs. Burke,” Drake acknowledged, “it's a pleasure to meet you.” He returned his attention to Vice President Burke. “I'm sorry about the loss of Mr. Thompson. As I'm sure you know, an arrest has already been made, and my office is vigorously prosecuting.”

“That's what I want to talk to you about,” Ed stated as the motorcade exited the funeral-home parking lot and began the return trip to the airport. “Drake, I want to make sure that everything is done to ensure that the criminal who committed this heinous act is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

“I assure you, Mr. Vice President, that we are doing everything we possibly can. In fact, Judge Prickett denied bail at yesterday's hearing.”

“Good. That's good. We certainly do not need this animal back on the street. Before we leave, Ben is going to give you a telephone number where I can be reached day or night. I want you to call me if there's anything I can do to assist you. If everything goes well, perhaps I can find a position for you in my administration.”

“I would like that,” Drake responded almost gleefully.

The motorcade returned to McKellar-Sipes Regional Airport precisely on time. Ed, Millie, Ben, and Drake exited the limousine and walked across the tarmac to the waiting Boeing 747. Ed thanked Drake again for his assistance, and then he, Millie, and Ben boarded Air Force Two.

 

Drake Highfill stood on the tarmac. He watched the vice president's plane take off and bank toward the North. The Burke campaign was scheduled to resume in Chicago. Drake could hardly control his excitement as he thought about Vice President Burke's promise of an administration position.