Джон Гришэм - A Time for Mercy

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ON THURSDAY MORNING, Jake filed his lawsuit against the county. He also sued the estate of Stuart Kofer for $50,000 for Josie’s medical bills, along with some extra for her pain and suffering. Two other lawsuits were being discussed around the office. One was his own against Cecil Kofer for medical expenses from the beating. The other was another suit against Stuart’s estate for Kiera’s care and treatment, as well as support for her child, yet unborn.

The suing was therapeutic.

Portia was cooking up a lawsuit of her own. Jake, like most small-town practitioners, never dealt with habeas corpus cases. Habeas work was almost exclusively done by lawyers representing prisoners claiming to be wrongfully detained, and virtually all of it was in federal court. But, as she learned, there was no prohibition against seeking habeas relief in state court. Late Thursday, she presented Jake with a lawsuit and a thick brief to support it. He looked at the heading— Drew Allen Gamble v. Ozzie Walls, Sheriff of Ford County— and said with a smile, “We’re suing Ozzie now?”

“That’s right. Habeas lawsuits are filed against the person holding the plaintiff. It’s usually the warden of some prison.”

“That should make his day.”

“He’s not on the hook for any damages. It’s more of a formality.”

“And in state court?”

“That’s right. We have to exhaust all state remedies before we can go to federal court.”

Jake read on, smiling. The lawsuit alleged that Drew was being unlawfully detained because the court (Judge Noose) considered the charge of capital murder to be a non-bailable offense. He had served over four months in the county jail while presumably innocent. The State had tried to convict him and failed. Because of his age, he was being held in solitary confinement and being denied educational opportunities.

“I love it,” Jake mumbled as he read. Portia beamed proudly at her handiwork. At the rate Jake was suing, there was little doubt he would file it promptly.

Ford County and the Twenty-second Circuit Court were violating the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment by incarcerating a minor in an adult jail with no chance of making bail.

Jake put down the lawsuit and picked up her supporting brief. As he began to read it, she said, “It’s just a rough draft. Still got some work to do.”

“It’s brilliant. You don’t need law school.”

“Great. Just get me a license.”

He read slowly, flipping the pages, kept smiling. When he finished, she handed him more papers.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“The federal lawsuit. Once Noose says no, then we run to federal court where the judges know a lot more about habeas corpus.”

“Yeah, they hate it.”

“True, but they hate it because they are inundated with filings from jailhouse lawyers who have little else to do. Every inmate has a beef, whether it’s a legitimate claim of innocence or a rant about leaky toilets and bad food, so they flood the courts with habeas petitions. This is different and might just be taken seriously.”

“Same allegations?”

“Yes, pretty much the same lawsuit.”

Jake put it down and stood and stretched. She watched him and said, “And I think you should ask Noose to recuse himself. After all, he’s part of the problem because he won’t consider an appropriate bond. We should ask for another judge, one from outside the district.”

“Oh, that’ll make him happy. Here’s an idea. I have a meeting with Noose in the morning, with Dyer, post-trial stuff. He’s in town for first appearances and bail hearings. What if I show him and Dyer the habeas petition, with the brief, and threaten to file it here, then take it to federal court if necessary?”

“Has he ever seen a habeas petition?”

“I doubt it. I’ll suggest a recusal and demand an expedited hearing. He knows it’ll get to the press and he might want to avoid the hassle. Dyer can bitch and moan and posture for the public. The end game is to pressure Noose to set a reasonable bond so our client can bail out.”

“How can Drew afford any bond?”

“Great question. Let’s worry about that when the time comes.”

53

The courtroom was busy at nine on Friday morning as lawyers milled about and gossiped and told stale jokes. Families of freshly indicted young men watched from the pews and worried. Clerks scurried about with paperwork and flirted with the lawyers. Jake was the man of the hour and several of his rivals were forced to offer congratulations on the win over in Chester. This stopped, however, when Lowell Dyer arrived on behalf of the State.

A bailiff fetched Jake and Todd Tannehill and said His Honor wanted them in chambers. Noose was waiting, standing and stretching and in obvious discomfort, when they walked in. He greeted them warmly with handshakes all around and pointed to the chairs at the table. When seated, he said, “We have a busy docket this morning, gentlemen, so let’s get right to the point. Jake, you’ve filed your lawsuit for your fees. Todd, how soon can you file your answer?”

“Real soon, Judge.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough. The complaint is a simple one-pager, a real rarity in this business, with Jake’s bill attached. I’m sure your answer will be even briefer. Denials all around. Right?”

“Afraid so, Judge.”

“You’ve consulted with your clients and I assume all five supervisors are in agreement.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I want you to hustle back to your office, prepare a one-page answer, bring it back over here, and file it while I work through my docket.”

“File it today?”

“No sir. File it before lunch. The trial will be set for next Thursday in this courtroom, a bench trial with me presiding. Jake, do you anticipate calling any witnesses?”

“No sir. I really don’t need any.”

“Nor do you, Todd. It will be a very short trial. I want all five of the supervisors in the courtroom. Jake, subpoena them if you have to.”

“That won’t be necessary, Your Honor,” Todd said. “I’ll get ’em here.”

“Okay, but if one fails to show, then I’ll issue a warrant.”

Todd was taken aback, as was Jake. The idea of arresting an elected county supervisor and hauling him into the courtroom was startling.

Noose wasn’t finished. “And, Todd, I suggest that you quietly remind the five that there are two lawsuits pending in this court in which Ford County is the primary defendant. One involves a contaminated landfill owned by the county and alleged to have polluted some drinking water. The plaintiffs are asking for a lot of money. The second concerns an accident involving a county dump truck. Both claims appear to have merit. I want Jake to get paid. The county has the money because I’ve seen the books. They are, as you know, public record.”

Even more startling was the less than subtle threat by a presiding judge to show favor in unrelated cases. Tannehill was stunned and said, “Judge, pardon me, but that sounds like a threat.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. I dragged Jake into the Gamble case with the assurance that he would get paid. His fees are reasonable, don’t you agree?”

“I have no problem with his fees. It’s just that—”

“I know, I know. But county supervisors have wide latitude in budgetary matters and they can pay this money out of unrestricted funds. Let’s get it done.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You’re dismissed, Todd. Please file your answer before noon.”

Tannehill shot Jake a bewildered look, then scurried out of the room. When he was gone, Noose stood and stretched again. “How many cases do you have this morning?”