Джон Гришэм - A Time for Mercy

“Stopped by the jail,” Jake said, and Harry Rex nodded as if this was no surprise.

“Noose hazed you into it, right?”

“He did. Said the appointment was only for thirty days, just to get the kid through the preliminaries.”

“Bullshit. You’ll never get rid of this case, Jake, because no one else’ll take it. I tried to warn you.”

“You did, but it’s pretty hard saying no to the circuit judge, Harry Rex. When was the last time you looked at Noose and said no to a favor?”

“I stay away from Noose, not my domain. I prefer chancery court where we don’t have juries and the judges are afraid of me.”

“Chancellor Reuben Atlee is not afraid of anybody.”

Harry Rex swallowed some beer and looked at Jake in disbelief. He took another swallow and kicked back in an old wooden swivel. He’d lost fifty pounds the year before but had now regained at least that much, and because of his bulk he struggled to lift both feet to the table. But they made it, in ragged old jogging shoes that Jake could swear he’d been wearing for at least the past decade. Feet in place, cold beer in hand, he continued pleasantly, “A really stupid move on your part.”

“I may have stopped by for a beer but not for any abuse.”

As if he didn’t hear him, Harry Rex said, “My phone has been ringin’ all day as the gossip spread and I heard from people I thought were dead, hoped most of them were anyway, but, seriously, a murdered deputy? This county has never seen one of those, and so folks are prattlin’ away right now. And tomorrow and the next day and the rest of the week, that’s all this town will talk about. How much they all loved Stuart Kofer. Even the wags who hardly knew him will discover a deep admiration for the guy. And can you imagine the funeral or memorial or whatever Ozzie will put on with the family? Hell, you know how much cops love parades and funeral processions and burials with guns and cannons. It’ll be quite the show with the whole town tryin’ to get into the act. And when they’re not weepin’ over Kofer they’ll be vilifying his killer. Sixteen-year-old punk shot him with his own gun in his own bed. Cold-blooded murder. Let’s string him up now. As always, Jake, the guilt will rub off on the lawyer, on you. You’ll do your best to represent your client and they’ll hate you for it. It’s a mistake, Jake, a big one. You’ll regret this case for a long time.”

“You’re assuming too much, Harry Rex. Noose assured me it’s only temporary. I’ll meet with him Tuesday to discuss the possibility of approaching some of the national child advocacy groups to get some help down here. Noose knows the case is not good for me.”

“Y’all talk about Smallwood ?”

“Of course not. That would be highly inappropriate.”

Harry Rex snorted and swallowed more beer.

It was unethical to discuss a hotly contested case with the presiding judge when the opposing lawyers knew nothing of the conversation. Especially a phone chat on a Sunday afternoon that was initiated for other reasons. But such ethical formalities had never impressed Harry Rex.

He said, “Here’s what might happen, Jake, and this is my biggest fear. Right now those sumbitches on the other side of Smallwood are gettin’ nervous. I’ve convinced Doby that they don’t want to mess with you in your courtroom, in front of a Ford County jury. You’re good and all that but not nearly as good as I’ve made you out to be. I’ve blown a lot of smoke up his ass and he’s not much of a trial lawyer anyway. His partner is better, but they’re from Jackson and that can be a long ways off. Sullivan will be sitting at the table with them but he’s not a factor. So we’re talkin’ trial dates for Smallwood and I have a hunch the railroad will start droppin’ hints about a settlement. However.” A gulp of beer and the can was empty. “Yesterday you were the golden boy with a fine reputation, but that started changin’ today. By the end of the week your good name will be mud because you’re tryin’ to spring the kid who murdered our deputy.”

“I’m not sure it was murder.”

“You’re crazy, Jake. Have you been hangin’ around Lucien again?”

“No, not today. It could be insanity. Could be justifiable homicide.”

“Could be. Could be. Let me tell you what it will be. It’ll be suicide for you and your law practice in this small and unforgiving town. Even if you keep Noose happy, it’ll still kill Smallwood. Can’t you see that, Jake?”

“You’re overreacting again, Harry Rex. There are thirty-two thousand people in this county and I’m sure we can find twelve who’ve never heard of me or Stuart Kofer. The railroad’s lawyers can’t point at me in the courtroom and say, ‘Hey, that guy represents cop killers.’ They can’t do that and Noose won’t let them try.”

Harry Rex jerked his feet down as if he’d had enough, and he lumbered out of the room, went to the kitchen, fetched two more beers, and brought them to the table. He popped a top and began pacing along the far end of the table. “Here’s your problem, Jake. Your problem is that you want to be the center of attention. That’s why you fought to hang on to the Hailey case when all the black preachers and organizers and radicals were tellin’ Carl Lee to ditch the white boy before they sent his black ass to Parchman. You fought to keep the case and then you defended him brilliantly. You love it, Jake. I don’t expect you to admit it, but you love the big case, the big trial, the big verdict. You love being in the very center of the arena with all eyes on you.”

Jake ignored the second can and took a sip from his first.

“What’s Carla’s opinion?” Harry Rex asked.

“Mixed. She’s tired of me carrying a gun.”

Harry Rex drank some beer and stopped to stare at a bookcase filled with thick, leather-bound law treatises no one in his office had touched in decades. Not even to dust. Without looking at Jake, he asked, “Did you say the words ‘justifiable homicide’?”

“I did.”

“So you’re already at trial, right, Jake?”

“No, I’m just thinking out loud. Just a habit.”

“Bullshit. You’re already at trial and plannin’ the defense. Did Kofer beat the woman?”

“She’s in the hospital with a concussion and a broken jaw that will require surgery.”

“Did he beat the kids?”

“I don’t know.”

“So there was a pattern of Kofer comin’ home drunk late on Saturday night and slappin’ everybody around. And the way you see the defense is that you’ll in effect put him on trial. You’ll slander his good name by exposin’ all of his sins and bad habits.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true.”

“That could be a very nasty trial, Jake.”

“I’m sorry I mentioned it, Harry Rex. I don’t plan on being anywhere near that courtroom.”

“Now you’re lyin’.”

“No, I think about trials because I’m a lawyer, but this one is for someone else. I’ll get through the preliminary stuff, then unload the kid.”

“I doubt that. I truly doubt that, Jake. I just hope you’re not screwin’ up Smallwood. Truthfully, I really don’t give a damn what happens to Stuart Kofer or his girlfriends and kids and people I’ve never met, but I do care about Smallwood. That case could be the biggest payday in our lousy little careers.”

“I don’t know. I got a thousand bucks for the Hailey case.”

“And that’s about all you’ll get for this turkey too.”

“Well, at least we have Noose on our side.”

“For now. I don’t trust him as much as you do.”

“Have you ever met a judge you trusted?”

“No. Nor a lawyer.”

“Look, I gotta go. I need a favor.”