The Sacrifice (50 page)

Scott met with Lester Garrison on Friday afternoon. He had mailed his client a copy of the jury list to review, but Lester didn't know anything about the people who would decide his fate. His father wouldn't be back in town until Sunday night.

Scott had debated several ways to bring up the Kendall Kidd issue. He decided to ease into it gently. Without Harold present, Lester might be more pliable.

“It's important that I have as much information as possible to give you the best defense,” he began. “Do you remember what I told you during our first meeting at the youth detention center? I'm representing you, not anyone else.”

“Yeah, and I'm not convinced that I shouldn't be a witness. People are going to wonder what I have to hide.”

“Maybe you don't have anything to hide.”

Lester's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Scott made an effort to sound casual. “You could testify about your cousin's involvement in the incident. It would fit with everything else you've told me about your innocence and the testimony of the other witnesses for the prosecution.”

“You heard what my father said—”

Scott interrupted. “Your father isn't my client. You are. You told me Kendall fired the shots. That makes him guilty, not you.”

“But won't the D.A. ask me why I didn't tell the police about Kendall when they picked me up?”

It was a good question. Lester's late decision to tell the truth would open the door to a string of questions about a self-serving motivation to blame someone else during the trial of the case. Scott had an answer ready.

“Two things. First, I'll notify the D.A. today that Kendall was the shooter and tell her that you will testify against him if he's charged and brought to trial. That way you can tell the jury you were willing to help convict the guilty person before the case began. Second, tell the jury the truth about Kendall as a person.”

“What do you mean?”

Scott was blunt. “Kendall is a very dangerous man. It's obvious you didn't mention his name to the police because of what he might do to you.

Lester, you are seventeen years old. People wouldn't expect you to stand up to someone like your cousin.”

Lester swallowed. “I need to think about this.”

“You don't have much time. If I'm going to call the D.A., it needs to be today.”

Lester hesitated.

Scott played his last card. “If Kendall is convicted of another felony, he will go to prison for the rest of his life without the possibility of parole. He won't be around to cause you trouble.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

Scott used words he'd heard from Lester. “I'm not stupid. I used the Internet and made a couple of phone calls.”

“My father told you to drop it.”

Scott shrugged. “I did what I thought was best for you.”

Lester wavered. “When do I need to let you know?”

Scott looked at his watch. It was 3:45 P.M. “One hour.”

Scott was sitting in Mr. Humphrey's office when the receptionist paged him. The older lawyer put the call on speakerphone, and Scott walked over to the corner of the desk.

“I'm here,” Scott said. “Do I call the D.A.?”

“No. I'm not going to do it,” Lester said.

Scott rolled his eyes. “But that doesn't make— ”

“I talked to my father in Mississippi. He's mad at you for snooping around when we told you not to. We don't want to drag Kendall into this.”

“He's already in it. You told me he fired the shots.”

“Forget I said that. It was a mistake.”

Scott looked at Mr. Humphrey for help. The older lawyer shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Scott asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Be here Monday morning at 8:30. We'll walk over to the courthouse together.”

“Should I wear the same clothes as before?”

Scott made a wry smile. “Yes. Your clothes were fine.”

“Bye.”

The phone went dead.

Before Scott could say anything, Mr. Humphrey spoke. “You can't help someone who doesn't want help. In the future you will have other clients bent on self-destruction for a variety of reasons. You can warn them and try to convince them of a better course of action, but in the end, if they want to jump off a cliff, you can't stop them.”

“Right now, I'd like to give Harold a push myself. I think I had Lester talked into it.”

“Maybe, but it's not going to happen. You've come full circle. We're at the same place we were before Kendall's name was mentioned. Without a doubt there's a possible pattern of crime, but even with the information you've uncovered, we still don't know the truth.”

“You don't think Kendall fired the shots?”

Mr. Humphrey shrugged. When he did, both eyebrows went up.

The bomb had not been the work of a night; however, it hadn't been as hard as he first imagined. He was resourceful, and although there had been unexpected delays, in the end he overcame every obstacle in his path.

The field tests had been exciting. He scouted the countryside for a remote place and settled on a clearing in the middle of a huge tract of land not far from a rock quarry. Hunting wasn't allowed on the property, and there weren't any houses for over a mile in any direction.

He'd conducted two tests. No one reported anything to the police because the sound of explosions was part of everyday life in the area; however, several deer resting in a nearby thicket fled in panic when the blasts reverberated through the woods. The real bomb would be many times more powerful.

39

The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

R
ICHARD
II, A
CT 1
, S
CENE 3

S
aturday was mock trial regional competition day, and Scott had to put the real battle of
State v. Garrison
on hold. Yvette Fisher arrived late at the high school, and the caravan left Catawba fifteen minutes behind schedule. Scott, Kay, and three parents drove the students. Dustin rode with Scott, and they talked about football. There was still a chance Catawba could make the play-offs if another team lost its final game.

“We made it my senior year but lost in the first round to A. L. Brown,” Scott said.

“That's who we'll play if we make it,” Dustin said. “They're not as tough this year as they have been in the past, so we'll have a chance. How badly did they beat your team?”

“They killed us. It was 42-0. The last play of the game a tiny guy who hadn't played a snap the whole season burst through the line and sacked our quarterback. It was humiliating.”

They arrived at the Mecklenburg County Courthouse in Charlotte. The downtown streets were deserted. The city's focus on the weekends shifted to the suburbs, not the cluster of towers along Tryon Street. Groups of students, coaches, and parents were walking up the sidewalks to the court buildings.

Nervous students dressed in suits and nice dresses lined the long hallway outside the courtrooms. The North Carolina Academy of Trial Lawyers furnished coffee, juice, and doughnuts. Scott and Kay found a vacant area and assembled their group. Scott didn't see the lawyer from Duke.

Each team would represent the injured plaintiff in one round and the defendant driver in another. Three volunteer attorneys would sit in the jury box and grade each team's performance. The two teams that received the top point totals would meet in the championship round later in the afternoon.

“This is our base,” Scott said to the assembled students. “You can leave your stuff here, and I'll watch it. We have thirty minutes until we meet in Courtroom 307. Don't eat too many doughnuts. We don't want anyone to have a sugar overload.”

Most of the students scattered. Yvette walked up to Scott and Kay.

“I'm sorry about the other night,” she said. “I shouldn't have had such a thin skin.”

Scott wanted to say that the problem was Frank's thick head but answered, “Nothing you'll face today will be as challenging as the practices we've had at the school. The judges will be very courteous, and the students on the other side will be more nervous than you are.”

“I'm pretty nervous.”

“Only enough to help you do a good job. You know the problem from every angle. It will all come back to you when you need it.”

One of the event coordinators handed Scott the team's room assignment for the first round.

When the students returned, he said, “We're the defense side in the first round. That means Dustin and Yvette will be attorneys for Pete Pigpickin. Once the case is called, no one can talk to them. No stage whispers from the gallery, Frank. It could cost us points.”

Frank gave an innocent look. “Don't pick on me.”

The other team arrived. With them was a tall, good-looking lawyer with dark hair and wearing an impeccably tailored dark suit.

Kay nudged Scott. “Is that him?”

Scott nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you think you could give him my phone number?”

Scott looked down at her. “I'm sure it's highly confidential.”

The lawyer saw Scott and waved.

“How are you?” he asked. “Where are you in practice?”

Scott sensed the man recognized his face, but couldn't place his name.

“Blanchard County. How are things in the big city?”

“I'm in the Bank of America tower. It's a great view from the fifty-first floor.”

Before Scott replied, the presiding judge and the three lawyers on the jury walked into the courtroom. Everyone scurried to their places. The courtroom was called to order, and the case began. Opening statements are not an opportunity to forcibly argue the case, but a skillful advocate can give a forecast of the evidence that sends the right message to the jury. The plaintiff 's attorney for the other team went first, and it was obvious to Scott that the young man was either well coached or had experience in the program. The student was cool and confident.

It was Dustin's job to respond for the defendant. He stood up.

“If it pleases the Court, my name is Dustin Rawlings. Yvette Fisher and me, uh, Yvette Fisher and I, represent Pete Pigpickin, the plaintiff, I mean, defendant in this case.”

It was a rocky start, but Dustin quickly recovered. He included a few touches of humor in his opening statement that Scott hoped made the judges forget about his initial miscues.

“Our client, Mr. Pigpickin, is the father of eight children—all by the same wife. He is in the catering business and delivers the highest quality barbeque to gatherings across North Carolina. On the date of this accident, his truck was loaded with over a hundred pounds of prime barbeque and four gallons of homemade barbeque sauce. He was on his way to feed a large group of lawyers and judges and wanted to give them the best food that money could buy. Then tragedy struck.”

Looking directly at the student playing the part of the plaintiff, Betty Moonbeam, Dustin said, “Miss Moonbeam, our client is very sorry that you suffered injuries in this unfortunate accident. Nothing that we say here today will take away the pain that you've suffered. Our sincere desire is that you fully recover and fulfill your lifelong dream to become a phlebotomist.”

There were several audible chuckles in the courtroom at the mention of Betty's career goals.

Turning back toward the jury panel, Dustin continued, “Nothing that we say today will bring back the pounds of wasted barbeque that lay scattered on the asphalt after this collision occurred. Scores of lawyers and several judges went hungry because their food never arrived.”

He worked his way through the opening statement to a more serious conclusion. “We believe the evidence will reveal three convincing reasons why our client should not be found liable for damages in this case. First, Mr. Pigpickin will testify that he came to a complete stop before entering the intersection and obeyed all traffic laws. Second, our client's testimony will be backed up by Billy Bob Beerbelly, the driver of a third vehicle at the intersection. Third, the evidence will show that Ralph Risky, the driver of the car in which Betty Moonbeam was a passenger, was intoxicated.”