John Grisham - Chamber

"What about the Pinder home in Vicksburg?

Was that one of yours?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"The bomb went off at four in the morning while the entire Pinder family was sound asleep. Six people. Miraculously, only one minor injury."

"It wasn't a miracle. The bomb was placed in the garage. If I'd wanted to kill anyone, I'd have put it by a bedroom window."

"Half the house collapsed."

"Yeah, and I could've used a clock and wiped out a bunch of Jews as they ate their bagels or whatever."

"Why didn't you?"

"As I said, we weren't trying to kill people."

"What were you trying to do?"

"Intimidate. Retaliate. Keep the damned Jews from financing the civil rights movement. We were trying to keep the Africans where they belonged - in their own schools and churches and neighborhoods and rest rooms, away from our women and children. Jews like Marvin Kramer were promoting an interracial society and stirring up the Africans. Son of a bitch needed to be kept in line."

"You guys really showed him, didn't you?"

"He got what he deserved. I'm sorry about the little boys."

"Your compassion is overwhelming."

"Listen, Adam, and listen good. I did not intend to hurt anyone. The bomb was set to go off at 5 A.M., three hours before he usually arrived for work. The only reason his kids were there was because his wife had the flu."

"But you feel no remorse because Marvin lost both legs?"

"Not really."

"No remorse because he killed himself?"

"He pulled the trigger, not me."

"You're a sick man, Sam."

"Yeah, and I'm about to get a lot sicker when I sniff the gas."

Adam shook his head in disgust, but held his tongue. They could argue later about race and hatred; not that he, at this moment, expected to make any progress with Sam on these topics. But he was determined to try. Now, however, they needed to discuss facts.

"After you inspected the dynamite, what did you do?"

"Drove back to the truck stop. Drank coffee."

"Why?"

"Maybe I was thirsty."

"Very funny, Sam. Just try and answer the questions."

"I was waiting."

"For what?"

"I needed to kill a couple of hours. By then it was around midnight, and I wanted to spend as little time in Greenville as possible. So, I killed time in Cleveland."

"Did you talk to anyone in the cafe?"

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No. "Was it crowded?" "I really don't remember." "Did you sit alone?"

"Yes."

"At a table?"

"Yes." Sam managed a slight grin because he knew what was coming.

"A truck driver by the name of Tommy Farris said he saw a man who greatly resembled you in the truck stop that night, and that this man drank coffee for a long time with a younger man."

"I never met Mr. Farris, but I believe he had a lapse of memory for three years. Not a word to anyone, as I recall, until another reporter flushed him out and he got his name in the paper. It's amazing how these mystery witnesses pop up years after the trials."

"Why didn't Farris testify in your last trial?"

"Don't ask me. I suppose it was because he had nothing to say. The fact that I drank coffee alone or with someone seven hours before the bombing was hardly relevant. Plus, the coffee drinking took place in Cleveland, and had nothing to do with whether or not I committed the crime."

"So Farris was lying?"

"I don't know what Farris was doing. Don't really care. I was alone. That's all that matters."

"What time did you leave Cleveland?"

"Around three, I think."

"And you drove straight to Greenville?"

"Yes. And I drove by the Kramers' house, saw the guard sitting on the porch, drove by his office, killed some more time, and around four or so I parked behind his office, slipped through the rear door, planted the bomb in a closet in the hallway, walked back to my car, and drove away."

"What time did you leave Greenville?"

"I had planned to leave after the bomb went off. But, as you know, it was several months before I actually made it out of town."

"Where did you go when you left Kramer's office?"

"I found a little coffee shop on the highway, a half mile or so from Kramer's office."

"Why'd you go there?"

"To drink coffee."

"What time was it?"

"I don't know. Around four-thirty or so."

"Was it crowded?"

"A handful of people. Just your run-of-themill all-night diner with a fat cook in a dirty tee shirt and a waitress who smacked her chewing gum.

"Did you talk to anybody?"

"I spoke to the waitress when I ordered my coffee. Maybe 1 had a doughnut."

"And you were having a nice cup of coffee, just minding your own business, waiting for the bomb to go off."

"Yeah, I always liked to hear the bombs go off and watch the people react."

"So you'd done this before?"

"A couple of times. In February of that year I bombed the real estate office in Jackson - Jews had sold a house to some niggers in a white section - and I had just sat down in a diner not three blocks away when the bomb went off, I was using a fuse then, so I had to hustle away and park real fast and find a table. The girl had just sat my coffee down when the ground shook and everybody froze. I really liked that. It was four in the morning and the place was packed with truckers and deliverymen, even had a few cops over in a corner, and of course they ran to their cars and sped away with lights blazing. My table shook so hard that coffee spilled from my cup."

"And that gave you a real thrill?"

"Yes, it did. But the other jobs were too risky. I didn't have the time to find a cafe or diner, so I just sort of rode around for a few minutes waiting for the fun. I'd check my watch closely, so I always knew about when it would hit. If I was in the car, I liked to be on the edge of town, you know." Sam paused and took a long puff from his cigarette. His words were slow and careful. His eyes danced a bit as he talked about his adventures, but his words were measured, "I did watch the Pinder bombing," he added.

"And how'd you do that?"

"They lived in a big house in the suburbs, lots of trees, sort of in a valley. I parked on the side of a hill about a mile away, and I was sitting under a tree when it went off."

"How peaceful."

"It really was. Full moon, cool night. I had a great view of the street, and I could see almost all of the roof. It was so calm and peaceful, everyone was asleep, then, boom, blew that roof to hell and back."

"What was Mr. Pinder's sin?"

"Just overall general Jewishness. Loved niggers. Always embraced the radical Africans when they came down from the North and agitated everybody. He loved to march and boycott with the Africans. We suspected he was financing a lot of their activities."

Adam made notes and tried to absorb all of this. It was hard to digest because it was almost impossible to believe. Perhaps the death penalty was not such a bad idea after all. "Back to Greenville. Where was this coffee shop located?"

"Don't remember."

"What was it called?"

"It was twenty-three years ago. And it was not the kind of place you'd want to remember."

"Was it on Highway 82?"

"I think so. What are you gonna do? Spend your time digging for the fat cook and the tacky waitress? Are you doubting my story?"

"Yes. I'm doubting your story."

"Why?"

"Because you can't tell me where you learned to make a bomb with a timing detonator."

"In the garage behind my house."

"In Clanton?"

"Out from Clanton. It's not that difficult."

"Who taught you?"

° "I taught myself. I had a drawing, a little booklet with diagrams and such. Steps one,

' two, three. It was no big deal."

"How many times did you practice with such a device before Kramer?"

"Once."

"Where? When?"

"In the woods not far from my house. I took two sticks 'of dynamite and the necessary paraphernalia, and I went to a little creek bed deep in the woods. It worked perfectly."