Scott Pratt - An Innocent Client

Angel hugged me for at least a half a minute, then turned and walked out the door hand-in-hand with Erlene. My last image of her was of her smiling radiantly, but I knew the smile couldn’t last long. Life had already been unfair, even cruel, to her. I felt sure the events of the night Tester raped her, plus the knowledge that she’d gotten away with murder, would haunt her. I wondered where she’d go, and what would become of her.

Caroline had decided to come down to watch the trial after I told her what was going to happen with Sarah. She stood just beyond the bar while I slowly packed my files into my briefcase. Besides the two bailiffs, she and I were the only people in the courtroom. I took my time. I wanted to stay there long enough to allow everyone else to leave. The last thing I needed was a confrontation with Junior Tester or Landers.

When I was ready, I closed the briefcase and turned and winked at Caroline. She stepped through the bar and kissed me without saying a word, hooked her elbow around mine, and we walked out together through a side door. We took the back steps down to the ground floor.

“Man, it’s hot,” I said as we crossed a one-way street that ran parallel to the courthouse. It was almost a hundred degrees. As we walked toward the parking lot, I saw a figure step out from behind a small hedge at the corner of the building about thirty yards to my right. It was Junior Tester. He was holding his right arm tight against his side. There was something in his hand.

Tester was between us and the building. There was no way to go back inside where there were police officers and bailiffs with guns. I dropped my briefcase, grabbed Caroline’s hand and began to run.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Run, Caroline! Tester’s coming. I think he has a gun.”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw him. He was jogging and lifting his right arm.

The parking lot behind the courthouse was about an acre of asphalt. There was room for close to a hundred cars and it was always full. As Caroline and I approached the first line of cars, a gunshot shattered the peacefulness of the summer afternoon in Tennessee’s oldest town. I heard the bullet whiz past in front of me. It ricocheted off the fender of an old Buick and whistled away. Caroline screamed.

“He’s going to kill us, Joe!”

I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her between two rows of cars.

“Get down!” I yelled. “Stay low.” We ran another fifty feet and I looked back. Junior had stopped. His feet were spread and he was aiming the pistol with both hands. Another shot smashed into the passenger window of the car we were running past. I stopped and crouched beside the front fender. I had to figure out a way to get Caroline out of the line of fire.

“We can’t stay together,” I said. I was already sweating and breathing heavily. Caroline’s eyes were wild with fear. I took her face in my hands.

“Listen to me. I’m going to start running. He’ll follow me — I’m the one he’s after. When he does, you go in the opposite direction. They can probably hear the shots in the courthouse, but just in case, get on your phone and call the cavalry. Get me some help!”

“Joe! No…”

I didn’t wait for her to finish. I came up from behind the car and started sprinting toward the west end of the courthouse. I sprinted for maybe five seconds and looked back. Junior was jogging again, but he was lagging behind me. He raised the gun and fired. High. At least Caroline was safe. I kept running.

When I came to the end of the parking lot, I stopped and crouched beside a pick-up. I knew I couldn’t stay still for long, but I was trapped. The parking lot ended at a concrete retaining wall at least ten feet high. I would either have to run across an open space toward Main Street or go back in the direction from which I’d come. If I went back, I could try to stay behind the cars, but Tester would have a much closer shot at me and might be able to cut me off. And I wasn’t sure whether Caroline had made it out of the parking lot. If I went forward, I’d be exposed, but if I could make it to the corner of Main and get around the pharmacy…

I took off for the street.

I saw him in my peripheral vision as I cleared the truck. He was back in his shooting stance. The fourth shot buzzed past my ear and I started to zig-zag. A group of tourists was standing on the corner outside the courthouse, pointing and shouting. I thought I saw a flash of khaki. A deputy? Please be a deputy. Four shots. How many bullets did he have?

I was nearing the small pharmacy on the corner of Main. I thought about ducking inside, but I didn’t want to trap myself and I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger. If I could get around the building, put it between Junior and me, I might be able to find cover or duck into an alley and hide long enough for the police to show up. Just as I was starting to round the corner, the fifth shot ricocheted off of the brick beside me and tore into my left thigh. I didn’t feel any pain, but the impact of the bullet knocked me off balance and I went sprawling face first onto the brick sidewalk. I lay there dazed for a second and tried to get up. My left leg wouldn’t work. I started to crawl. The bricks were warm beneath my hands.

People were screaming and yelling across the street, and I knew he was getting close. I heard sirens. Please, God, make them hurry. There was a loose brick in the sidewalk. I pried it out with my fingers. I rolled onto my back just as Junior came around the corner, less than ten feet away. He was holding the gun at arm’s length. He saw me lying on the ground and slowed. Beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead. The corners of his lips curled slightly.

I threw the brick, but it missed him by inches. He took two more steps and was standing over me, just as I’d stood over him the night I went to his house. I looked at the gun. It was a revolver, six shots. I’d counted five. He had one left.

“Therefore the fathers shall eat the sons in the midst of thee, and the sons shall eat their fathers,” he said. “And I will execute judgment upon thee and the whole remnant of thee shall I scatter to the winds…”

I started crawling backward on my elbows, dragging my bleeding and useless left leg. I stared at Junior, waiting for the shot and the darkness. His eyes were wild and he was still talking, but the words had become nothing more than incoherent babble. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb. His hand was trembling. I froze.

The next few seconds seemed to run in slow motion. Junior jerked forward as though something had struck him from behind. A puzzled look came over his face, and the gun roared. The bullet screamed past my left ear so close I could feel the shock wave from the velocity. The gun clattered to the bricks by my feet. Suddenly a huge, liver-spotted hand come over the top of Junior’s head and covered his face. The fingers locked onto his chin and pulled straight up.

Junior went over onto his back. A man mounted him and started spraying something into his eyes, a gray-haired man in a uniform…

It was Sarge Hurley, the ancient courthouse security officer. I saw Sarge raise a massive fist and bring it downward toward Tester’s face and heard a loud thud as fist met jaw. More uniforms, some khaki, some blue. They descended on Junior like locusts.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. Sarge straightened and turned toward me. He stepped over and knelt beside me.

“You all right, Dillard?”

I looked into his eyes and for the first time, I noticed they were green, just like mine. I laid my head back on the bricks and smiled. Good old Sarge, my very own geriatric guardian angel. He wasn’t even sweating.

“What took you so long?” I said. “You let him shoot me.”