Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

"What do you want me to do?" Mr. Fussleman asked when I finished.

"Tell Judge Cannon that as one of the dock owners, you support releasing Mr. Jones for time already served in jail, and in the future would allow him to tie up for the night at your dock so long as he didn't interfere with your use of the facilities or cause any damage to your property."

"I want to meet Mr. Jones before I agree to anything, but I don't think I have any objection to releasing him from jail." He hesitated a moment before continuing, "But I can't agree to let him use my dock."

My face fell.

"Unless he checks with me first," he finished.

"It may be late at night," I replied.

"I'm usually up past eleven. If it's later than that, he will have to pole his boat back down the river."

His proposal was more than fair.

"Can we meet with Moses?" I asked Zach.

"Let's try."

We returned to the courtroom.

"There's Maggie Smith," Zach said.

There were three female members of the district attorney's staff stacking up files at one of the tables used by the lawyers.

"Which one?"

"The shorter one with brown hair."

Zach ushered Mr. Fussleman to a seat directly behind the railing. We approached Ms. Smith. Zach extended his hand.

"We met at a young lawyers section meeting last year," he said. "You may not remember me-"

"It's hard not to notice a male lawyer in Savannah with long hair who rides a motorcycle."

I glanced down. Ms. Smith wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

"One of the dock owners, a Mr. Fussleman, is here," Zach said. "He'd like to meet our client."

"Why?"

Zach turned to me, and I explained our purpose. Smith shrugged.

"Okay. If none of the other dock owners show up, I won't oppose a guilty plea for time served as long as there is a period of probation. I don't want Jones claiming ownership of a dock by adverse possession."

"Will you support the plea?" Zach asked.

Smith looked at Zach and smiled. "No, but I'll be very clear that I don't oppose it."

"Thanks," he said.

We returned to the area where the lawyers were sitting. Vince and Russell Hopkins, his supervising attorney, were at the opposite end of our row. A side door opened, and a long line of prisoners wearing jail uniforms entered. Toward the end of the line I saw Moses. None of the men in his group were shackled. A smaller group in leg irons and handcuffs followed.

"Why are some of them wearing handcuffs?" I asked Zach.

"Probably felony cases. Moses and the others are the misdemeanor, nonviolent cases."

Moses saw me and smiled. It made me feel creepy.

"Let's talk to the deputy," Zach said.

Zach went up to one of the deputies I recognized from my visits to the jail and told him about Mr. Fussleman. The deputy motioned to Moses.

"You can talk to him at the end of the row," the deputy said. "But you'd better make it quick. The judge will be here in a minute, and he'll want everyone in their places."

"Get Fussleman," Zach told me. "I'll tell Moses what we're trying to do."

I brought Mr. Fussleman over. Zach was whispering into Moses' ear.

"What dock be yours?" Moses asked Fussleman.

"The one with the blue and white boat."

Moses nodded. "Yes sir. That's a mighty nice piece of boat."

"Thank you."

"Moses, are you sorry that you used Mr. Fussleman's dock without permission?" Zach asked the old man.

Moses looked at Zach then Mr. Fussleman. "I didn't use nobody's dock except as a place to put a piece of cotton rope. I'm sorry that the policemans put me in jail and lock me and my boat up. That's what makes my heart cry in the night."

"Moses doesn't believe the river belongs to anyone," I said, "but he's agreed not to tie up at private docks without permission in the future, right?"

I held my breath for a second, hoping Moses wouldn't back down on his promise.

"That be right, missy."

"And Mr. Fussleman might be willing to let you tie up if you ask his permission in advance before eleven o'clock at night," I added.

Moses looked at Mr. Fussleman. "That's mighty nice of you, boss man. You let Moses know, and I'll clean that blue and white boat for free and scrub your dock. And you know that yellow line at the edge, the one that be going away fast? I paint it for you."

Mr. Fussleman shook Moses' hand. "Come by when you get out of jail, and we'll talk about it." The dock owner turned to me. "This man doesn't need to be locked up. I'll testify if you need me."

"All rise!" announced one of the bailiffs on duty. "The Superior Court of Chatham County is now in session, the Honorable Clifton Cannon presiding."

The judge, an older, white-haired man, sat down without looking in the direction of the lawyers.

"Be seated!" the bailiff called out.

The judge turned toward the DAs table. "Ms. Smith, are you ready?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Let's hear pleas first, reserving the motion to suppress in State v. Robinson to the end of the calendar."

"Yes sir, we have twenty-six cases here for arraignment. Based on the discussions with counsel, several of those intend to plead guilty."

I licked my lips. There was less than a five percent chance that Moses' case would be the first one called. I desperately wanted to watch a few experienced lawyers navigate the waters before I was thrown in. I leaned close to Zach.

"What if we're first?"

"Then I'll be back to the office in time to get some work done."

It was an unsympathetic answer. Ms. Smith picked up a file from her stack.

"State v. Jones," she called out.

Zach stood up. I was so shocked that I didn't move.

"Come on," Zach said.

I got to my feet and stepped into the open area in front of the judge. A deputy culled Moses from the rest of the prisoners and brought him to stand beside me.

"Your Honor, I'm Zach Mays, and this is Ms. Tami Taylor, a summer clerk with our firm," Zach said. "You appointed Ms. Taylor to represent Mr. Jones, and the firm asked me to supervise her work on the case."

Judge Cannon had bushy white eyebrows. He brought them together and glared at me. Ms. Smith spoke.

"Mr. Jones is charged with twenty-five counts of trespassing by tying up his boat at private docks on the Little Ogeechee River."

"I believe it's twenty-four counts," I corrected.

"A difference without a distinction," the judge grunted. "How does he plead?"

I looked at Zach.

"Mr. Mays is not your client," the judge barked at me.

"Uh, Your Honor, Mr. Jones has been in jail for over two months, and we would like to enter a guilty plea as long as he is released for time served followed by a one-year period of supervised probation."

Moses' voice startled me. "My boat, missy. Don't be forgetting."

"Yes sir. His boat was seized, and he would like it back."

"Ms. Taylor, you do not enter into plea negotiations with me while I'm sitting on the bench trying to work my way through a crowded calendar."

"Yes sir. We talked to Ms. Smith," I responded quickly. "She has no objection to my proposal."

"Is that right?" the judge asked the assistant DA.

"We will leave the sentence to Your Honor's discretion but do not oppose defense counsel's suggestion."

"Was there any physical damage to property warranting restitution?" the judge asked.

"No sir," I replied. "And one of the dock owners, Mr. William Fussleman, is present and willing to testify in favor of the proposed plea."

I pointed in the direction of Mr. Fussleman, who stood up.

"That won't be necessary," the judge said. "Mr. Jones?"

Moses looked up.

"Are you Moses Jones?" the judge repeated.

"That be me."

"Are you aware of the charges against you?"

"Yes sir."

The judge looked down at the papers before him. "Did you illegally tie up your boat at these docks without permission of the owners?"