Джон Гришэм - A Time for Mercy

“Before?” Dyer asked, then caught himself. Never ask a question if you don’t know the answer. “Strike that.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Gamble, that you deliberately and intentionally shot Stuart Kofer, with his own gun, one that you were familiar with, because he beat your mother?”

“No sir.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Gamble, that you deliberately and intentionally shot and killed Stuart Kofer because he was sexually molesting your sister?”

“No sir.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Gamble, that you willfully shot and killed Stuart Kofer because you hated the man and you were hoping that if he were dead, your mother would get to keep his house?”

“No sir.”

“Isn’t it true, Mr. Gamble, that when you leaned down and put the barrel an inch from his head, that at that crucial moment, Stuart Kofer was sound asleep?”

“I don’t know if he was sound asleep. I know he’d been movin’ around because I heard him. I was afraid he would get up and go crazy again. That’s why I did what I did. To protect us.”

“You saw him asleep in his own bed, and you took his own gun and put it an inch from his left temple, and you pulled the trigger, didn’t you, Mr. Gamble?”

“I guess I did. I’m not sayin’ I didn’t. I’m not sure what I was thinkin’ at that moment. I was so scared and I just knew he had killed my mother.”

“But you were wrong, weren’t you? He didn’t kill your mother. She’s sitting right there.” Dyer turned and pointed an angry finger at Josie in the front row.

Drew summoned his own anger and said, “Well, he tried his best to kill her. She was on the floor, unconscious, and as far as we could tell she wasn’t breathin’. She sure looked dead to us, Mr. Dyer.”

“But you were wrong.”

“And he had threatened to kill her many times, and us too. I thought it was the end.”

“Had you ever thought about killing Stuart before?”

“No sir. I’ve never thought about killin’ anybody. I don’t have guns. I don’t get in fights and stuff like that. I just wanted to leave and get away from that house before he hurt us. Livin’ in a car again was better than livin’ with Stuart.”

Another one of Jake’s lines, perfectly delivered.

“So, when you were in prison, you didn’t get into fights?”

“I wasn’t in prison, sir. I was in a juvenile detention facility. Prison is for adults. You should know that.”

Noose leaned down and said, “Please, Mr. Gamble, hold your comments.”

“Yes sir. Sorry, Mr. Dyer.”

“And you never got into fights?”

“Everybody got into fights. Happened all the time.”

Dyer was treading water and slowly drowning. Arguing with a sixteen-year-old was rarely productive, and at the moment Drew was gaining the upper hand. Dyer had been burned by both Josie and Kiera, and he preferred to avoid additional damage with the defendant. He looked at the bench and said, “Nothing further, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Brigance.”

“Nothing, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Gamble, you may step down and return to the defense table. Mr. Brigance, please call your next witness.”

At full volume, Jake announced, “Your Honor, the defense rests.”

Noose flinched and appeared surprised. Harry Rex would later say that Lowell Dyer shot Musgrove a look of bewilderment.

The lawyers met at the bench where His Honor slid the mike away and addressed them in a whisper. “What’s going on, Jake?” he demanded.

Jake shrugged and said, “We’re done. No more witnesses.”

“There are at least a dozen on your witness list.”

“I don’t need them, Judge.”

“It just seems a little abrupt, that’s all. Mr. Dyer? Any rebuttal witnesses?”

“I don’t think so, Judge. If the defense is finished, so are we.”

Noose glanced at his watch and said, “This being a capital case, the jury instructions will take some time and we can’t get in a hurry. I’ll recess now until nine in the morning. Y’all meet me in chambers in fifteen minutes and we’ll hammer out the jury instructions.”

49

Lucien invited the team to his house for dinner and would not accept no for an answer. With Sallie gone, and with absolutely no culinary skills of his own, he had leaned on Claude to prepare catfish po’boys, baked beans, sweet slaw, and a tomato salad. Claude owned the only black diner in downtown Clanton, and Jake ate lunch there almost every Friday, along with a few other white liberals in town. When the café had opened thirty years earlier, Lucien Wilbanks was there almost every day and insisted on sitting in the window to be seen by white folks passing by. He and Claude shared a long and colorful friendship.

Though he couldn’t cook he could certainly pour, and Lucien served drinks on the front porch and encouraged his guests to sit in wicker rockers as the day came to a close. Carla had managed to find a last-minute babysitter because she rarely had dinner in Lucien’s home and wasn’t about to miss the chance. Portia was equally curious, though she really wanted to go home and get some sleep. Only Harry Rex begged off, claiming his battle-hardened secretaries were threatening a mutiny.

Dr. Thane Sedgwick from Baylor had just arrived in town in the event he would be needed to testify during sentencing. Libby had called him the day before with the news that the trial was moving much faster than anticipated. After a few sips of whiskey he was off and running. He said, in his thick Texas drawl, “And so I asked her if I would be needed. And she said no. She is not anticipating a conviction. Is she alone?”

“I don’t see a conviction,” Lucien said. “Nor an acquittal.”

Libby said, “At least four of the five women are with us. Ms. Satterfield cried all day long, especially when Kiera was on the stand.”

“And Kiera was effective?” Sedgwick asked.

“You have no idea,” replied Libby. This led to a long replay of the epic day the Gamble family had in court as Josie and her children tag-teamed through their sad, chaotic history. Portia set the stage for Kiera’s dramatic testimony about the father of her child. Lucien laughed when he repeated Drew’s testimony about the nice foster homes where he didn’t worry about getting slapped around. Libby was astonished at the way Jake had slowly brought out the details of all the miserable places the family had lived. Instead of dumping them all on the jury in his opening statement, he had carefully dropped one bomb after another, to great dramatic effect.

Jake sat next to Carla on an old sofa, with his arm over her shoulders, sipping wine and listening to the different perspectives on what he had seen and heard in court. He said little, his mind often wandering to the challenge of his closing argument. He worried about resting his case so abruptly, but the lawyers, Libby, Lucien, and Harry Rex, were convinced it was the right move. He had lost sleep worrying about putting his client on the stand, but young Drew made no mistakes. All in all, he was pleased with the case so far, but he kept reminding himself that his client was guilty of killing Stuart Kofer.

At dark they moved inside and settled around Lucien’s handsome teak dining table. The house was old, but the interior decorating was modern, with plenty of glass and metal and odd accessories. The walls were adorned with a baffling collection of contemporary art, as if the king of the castle rejected everything old and traditional.

The king was enjoying his whiskey, as did Thane, and the war stories began, long tall tales of courtroom dramas over the years, all with the raconteur himself as the hero. Once Thane realized he probably wouldn’t be needed on Thursday, he poured another drink and seemed ready for a late night.