Джон Гришэм - A Time for Mercy

He turned on the lights downstairs and checked each room, then went to the kitchen to brew the first pot. He went upstairs to his office and took off his jacket. In the middle of his desk was a two-page motion Portia had prepared the day before. It was a request by the defense to transfer Drew Gamble’s case to youth court, and when filed it would set off another round of nasty gossip.

The motion was a formality and Noose had already promised to deny it. But, as the defense lawyer of record, Jake had no choice. If the motion were granted, an impossibility, the murder charge would be tried before the youth court judge with no jury. When found guilty, Drew would be sent to a juvenile facility somewhere in the state and kept there until his eighteenth birthday, when the court surrendered jurisdiction. At that point, there was no procedural mechanism to allow the circuit court to assume jurisdiction. In other words, Drew would be allowed to go free. After less than two years behind bars. There was nothing fair about this law but Jake couldn’t change it. And it was precisely for this reason that Noose would keep the case.

Jake could not imagine the backlash if his client walked after serving such a short sentence, and frankly, he was not in favor of it. He knew, though, that Noose would protect him while at the same time protecting the integrity of the system.

Portia had attached a four-page brief that Jake read with admiration. As always, she was thorough and discussed a dozen prior cases involving minors, one reaching back to the 1950s. She argued persuasively that minors are not as mature as adults and do not possess the same decision-making skills, and so on. However, each case she cited had ended with the same result—the minor was kept in circuit court. Mississippi had a long history of putting minors on trial for serious crimes.

It was an admirable effort. Jake edited the motion and brief, and when Portia arrived they discussed the changes. At nine, he walked across the street and filed the paperwork. The assistant clerk accepted it without comment and Jake left without his customary flirting. Even the clerk’s office seemed a bit cooler these days.

—

HARRY REX COULD always find a reason to get out of town on business, away from the turmoil of his contentious divorce practice and away from his quarrelsome wife. He sneaked out the rear door of his office late in the afternoon and enjoyed the long, quiet drive to Jackson. He went to Hal & Mal’s, his favorite restaurant, took a table in a corner, ordered a beer, and began waiting. Ten minutes later he ordered another one.

During his law school days at Ole Miss, he had downed many beers with Doby Pittman, a wild man from the coast who had finished first in their class and chose the big-firm route in Jackson. He was now a partner in a fifty-lawyer group that did well representing insurance companies in major damage cases. Pittman was not involved with Smallwood but his firm was lead counsel. Another partner, Sean Gilder, had drawn the case.

A month earlier, over beers in the same restaurant, Pittman had whispered to his old drinking buddy that the railroad might approach Jake and discuss the possibility of a settlement. The case was frightening for both sides. Four people had been killed at a bad crossing poorly maintained by the railroad. There would be enormous sympathy for the Smallwoods. And Jake had impressed the defense with his aggressiveness and demands for a trial. He had shown no reluctance in ramming through discovery and running to Noose when he thought the defense was stalling. He and Harry Rex had hired two top railroad-crossing experts, plus an economist who would tell the jury that the four lost lives were worth millions. The railroad’s biggest fear, according to bar talk from Doby, was that Jake was hungry and craving another big courtroom win.

On the other hand, the defense was confident that it could whittle away at the sympathy and prove the obvious: that Taylor Smallwood had crashed into the fourteenth boxcar without touching his brakes.

Both sides could lose big, or win big. A settlement was the safest route for both.

Harry Rex damned sure wanted a settlement. Litigation was expensive, and he and Jake had borrowed, so far, $55,000 from Security Bank to finance the lawsuit. More expenses were likely. Neither lawyer on the plaintiff’s side had that kind of money lying around.

Of course, Pittman knew nothing about the loan. No one did, except for the banker and Carla Brigance. Harry Rex told his wife, his fourth one, nothing about his business.

Doby arrived thirty minutes late and didn’t apologize. Harry Rex wasn’t concerned with his tardiness. They drank a beer, ordered red beans and rice, and commented on the looks of some young ladies nearby. Then they got around to their jobs. Doby had never understood his friend’s desire to specialize in divorces in a podunk town like Clanton, and Harry Rex was repulsed by the grind and politics of a big firm in downtown Jackson. But both were fed up with the law and wanted out. Most of their lawyer friends felt the same way.

Their orders arrived and they were starving. After a few bites, Doby said, “Looks like your boy has got himself in a mess up there.”

Harry Rex knew it was coming and said, “He’ll be all right once he gets rid of the case.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Okay, Pitt, just go ahead and tell me what Walter Sullivan has relayed to you boys from the mean streets of Clanton. He probably calls down here every day with the latest courthouse gossip, half of which he makes up to begin with. He has never been a proven source for breaking news. I know far more and I’ll correct his mistakes.”

Doby laughed and shoveled in a chunk of andouille sausage. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a drink. “I don’t talk to him, you know? Not my case. So I don’t know much. What I hear comes from one of the paralegals working down the hall. Gilder keeps a lid on his files around the office.”

“Got it. So what’s the buzz?”

“That Brigance has got the town pretty upset because he’s going the insanity route. The boy’s already at Whitfield.”

“Not true. He’s at Whitfield, okay, but just for an initial evaluation. That’s all. Insanity might be an issue down the road, at trial, but Jake won’t be involved.”

“Well, he’s involved right now. Gilder and his gang are thinking that Jake might have trouble picking himself the right jury in the railroad case.”

“So the railroad’s backin’ off settlement?”

“Looks like it. And they’re in no hurry to go to trial. They’re going into a serious delay mode, hoping Brigance gets stuck with the kid. The murder trial could get ugly.”

“Delay? My gosh, I’ve never heard of such from a defense firm.”

“It’s one of our many specialties.”

“But here’s the problem, Pitt. Judge Noose controls his docket with an iron fist and right now he owes Jake a big one. If Jake wants a trial real soon, then it’s going to happen.”

Doby worked on his food for a moment, then washed it down. “Does Jake have a number?”

“Two million,” Harry Rex said with a mouthful and no hesitation.

Like a seasoned defense lawyer, Doby grimaced as if it were two billion. Both men ate in silence and thought about the numbers. The contract Harry Rex negotiated with the Smallwood relatives gave him one-third if the case was settled, and 40 percent if it went to trial. He and Jake had agreed to equally split the fee. Over beans and beers the math was easy. It would be the biggest settlement in the history of Ford County, and it was sorely needed by both lawyers for the plaintiffs. Harry Rex was not yet spending the money, but he was certainly dreaming of it. Everything Jake owned was mortgaged. Plus, there was the business of that bank loan for litigation expenses.