Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

And I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that Zach and Mr. Carpenter had been working together all along.

"Glad you could make it," Mr. Carpenter said.

"Bob Kettleson-" I began.

"We know," Zach said. "I checked on you a couple of hours ago."

I couldn't bear to look Zach in the face. "I need to talk to Mr. Jones," I said.

Zach stood up.

"No!" I said so loudly that it filled the courtroom. "Alone."

Zach looked at Mr. Carpenter, who shrugged.

"Okay," Zach said.

I went to Moses. The deputy moved several feet away. I positioned my body so Zach and Mr. Carpenter couldn't see. Up close, the old man's face was as wrinkled as a crumpled-up newspaper. His eyes were slightly yellow around the edges.

"That's Floyd Carpenter's son," I whispered.

"I see that, missy. They favor each other."

"I don't know exactly why he's here, but it can't be anything good. Until I can figure out a way to protect you, I think you should stay in jail. It's the safest place you can be."

"I done told you I ain't gonna die in no jailhouse." Moses spoke louder and gestured toward the deputy. "He brung all my stuff in those two pokes. I be thinking about going home. Is that right?"

"If the judge accepts the plea bargain. But what I'm trying to tell you is that it won't be safe for you on the street."

"I be going straight to the river. Only who gonna tote my boat for me?"

The old man's concern about his boat gave me an idea.

"We'll ask the judge to let you stay in the jail until arrangements can be made to transport you and your boat at the same time. It would be a shame for you to get out and then have the boat sent for scrap."

"It ain't no big beer can-"

Before Moses could finish, a side door to the courtroom opened. Ms. Smith and a slender, dark-haired woman wearing a judicial robe entered the courtroom.

"All rise!" the deputy called out.

"Be seated," the judge said. "Ms. Smith, call your case."

"State v. Jones."

Moses and I stepped into the open area in front of the bench. Zach joined us. I stood between him and Moses. Mr. Carpenter remained in his seat. Vince sat behind him.

"This is Ms. Tami Taylor, a rising third-year law student at the University of Georgia," Zach said in a syrupy voice that made me want to slap him. "She's a summer clerk with our firm. Judge Cannon appointed her to represent Mr. Jones in this matter."

"Welcome to Savannah, Ms. Taylor," the judge said. "I hope you're having a pleasant summer."

I was barely able to muster a crooked smile. The judge nodded toward Ms. Smith.

"Proceed."

Maggie Smith handed a file to the judge. "As you know, opposing counsel gave me permission to discuss a potential plea bargain in this case ex parte with you-"

"I didn't agree to any ex parte-" I interrupted.

"I did, Your Honor," Zach cut me off. "I'm the supervising attor ney. Under the circumstances, it was the most efficient way to dispose of the case."

"What circumstances?" I asked.

"Ms. Taylor," the judge said, "we're not in a rush here, but you and Mr. Mays can discuss a better method of interoffice communication at a later time. If you'll be patient, I'd like to hear from Ms. Smith."

"Yes ma'am."

Smith spoke. "The defendant is charged with twenty-four counts of trespassing by tying up his boat at private docks. No property damage occurred, and one of the complainants, Mr. Bill Fussleman, sent a letter to my office offering to accommodate the defendant's boat at his dock upon reasonable notice in the future. We are recommending that the defendant be sentenced to time served of eightytwo days, plus one year probation."

"What 'bout my boat?" Moses spoke up.

Smith continued. "The defendant's boat was confiscated when he was arrested. It's in the impoundment lot at the jail and can be released simultaneously with the defendant."

"So, he should remain in jail until arrangements can be made for the transport of his boat," I said.

The judge gave me a puzzled look. "Is that what your client wants to do?"

I swallowed. "We were discussing that when you called the case."

Moses, Maggie Smith, Zach, and I all stared at one another.

"Our firm will make arrangements for the boat to be removed and delivered to Mr. Jones," Zach said, breaking the stalemate.

"Very well," the judge said. "Are we ready to proceed with the plea?"

"Yes ma'am," Zach responded.

I frantically searched for another delay tactic but came up empty. Zach's duplicity was infuriating.

I listened numbly as Judge Howell went through the constitutional litany required when a defendant enters a guilty plea. Most of the phrases had been the subject of intense scrutiny in cases that made their way to the Supreme Court. Today, it sounded like meaningless gibberish.

"Is your client prepared to enter a plea of guilty to the charges?" the judge asked.

"If that's what he wants to do," I answered resignedly.

The judge looked from me to Moses. "Do you want to plead guilty, Mr. Jones?"

"Yes'm, so long as I get to go home."

"All right, I'll accept your plea and sentence you to time served of eighty-two days, plus one year supervised probation. The defendant is released on his own recognizance. Mr. Jones, your attorneys can assist you in setting up the initial schedule with your probation officer. After that, make sure the officer knows how to get in touch with you and keep all scheduled appointments. I don't want to see you in court again. Anything else?"

"Yes'm. My boat."

Judge Howell smiled. "Of course. Your boat is released from impoundment without payment of any storage fees. Remove it from the lot within seven days."

Judge Howell rose and left the room. Ms. Smith turned to Zach and me. "I'm glad we could work this out. Trying cases like this gives the public the impression we don't have anything important to do."

"Thanks for your cooperation," Zach said.

Smith shook Zach's hand and smiled sweetly. "I know you don't do criminal work, but I hope to see you around."

The assistant DA left the room. The deputy handed Moses two plastic bags.

"Keep catching those big croakers," he said. "You've been the best worker we've had on trash detail for a long time, but I hope we don't see you again."

"Thank you, boss man," Moses answered.

I took Moses by the arm to guide him out of the courtroom behind the deputy.

"Tami!" Mr. Carpenter called out. "Just a minute."

Moses and I kept moving toward the side door of the courtroom. The senior partner walked over and blocked our way. He faced Moses.

"My name is Joe Carpenter."

"I know who you be," Moses said, staring at the floor.

"And Mr. Jones is leaving now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll see you when I get back to the office."

Mr. Carpenter didn't budge. "It's not you I want to talk to," he answered. "I have business with Mr. Jones."

I knew there was no use appealing to Zach. I frantically looked to Vince for help. He stepped back and didn't say anything.

"Sit down on that bench," Mr. Carpenter commanded Moses.

The old man complied. Mr. Carpenter turned to me. "Ms. Taylor, your business here is finished. Go back to the office. I'll meet with you later this afternoon before you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," I responded, planting my feet as if guarding a basketball goal.

Mr. Carpenter's head jerked back. "What did you say?"

"I'm staying here with my client," I said more bravely than I felt.

Mr. Carpenter's eyes narrowed. "What I have to discuss with Mr. Jones has nothing to do with you."

I nodded my head toward Moses. "That's for him to decide. Moses, do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes, missy."

I looked Mr. Carpenter in the eyes. "And that's what I'm going to do."