John Grisham - The Confession

“How did you abduct her?”

“I found her car, parked next to it, waited until she came out of the mall. I used a gun, she didn’t argue. I’ve done this before.”

“Have you been convicted in Texas before?”

“No. Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas. You can check the records. I’m telling the truth here, and the truth is that I did the crime. Not Donté Drumm.”

“Why are you coming forward now, and not a year ago?”

“I should have, but I figured the courts down here would finally realize they had the wrong guy. I just got out of prison in Kansas, and a few days ago I saw in the paper where they were getting ready to execute Drumm. Surprised me. So here I am.”

“Right now, only the governor can stop the execution. What would you say to him?”

“I’d say you’re about to kill an innocent man. You give me twenty-four hours, and I’ll show you the body of Nicole Yarber. Just twenty-four hours, Mr. Governor.”

Judge Henry scratched his chin with his knuckles and said, “A bad night just got worse.”

———

Barry and Wayne were in the governor’s office watching Boyette on CNN. Their governor was down the hall being interviewed for the fifth or sixth time since his courageous handling of the angry mob. “We’d better go get him,” Wayne said.

“Yep. I’ll go; you keep an eye on this.”

Five minutes later, the governor was watching a rerun of Boyette. “He’s obviously a crackpot,” Newton said after a few seconds. “Where’s the bourbon?”

Three glasses were filled, and the bourbon was sipped as they listened to Boyette talk about the body.

“How did you kill Nicole?” Strangled her with her belt, black leather with a round silver buckle, still around her neck. Boyette reached under his shirt and pulled out a ring. He thrust it at the cameras. “This is Nicole’s. I’ve worn it since the night I took her, has her initials and everything.”

“How did you dispose of the body?”

“Let’s just say it’s underground.”

“How far from here?”

“I don’t know, five or six hours. Again, if the governor would give us twenty-four hours, we can find it. That’ll prove I’m right.”

“Who is this guy?” the governor asked.

“A serial rapist, rap sheet a mile long.”

“It’s amazing how they always manage to pop up right before the execution,” Newton said. “Probably getting money from Flak.”

All three managed a nervous laugh.

———

The laughter at the lake was interrupted when a guest walked past a TV inside and saw what was happening. The party quickly moved indoors, and thirty people huddled around the small screen. No one spoke; no one seemed to breathe as Boyette went on and on, perfectly willing to answer any question with a blunt response.

“Ya’ll ever hear of this guy, Paul?” asked one of the retired lawyers.

Paul shook his head no.

“He’s at Flak’s office, the train station.”

“Robbie’s up to his old tricks.”

Not a smile, not a grin, not a forced chuckle. When Boyette produced her ring, and freely displayed it for the cameras, fear swept through the cabin, and Paul Koffee found his way to a chair.

———

The breaking news was not heard by everyone. At the prison, Reeva and her gang were gathered in a small office where they waited for the van ride to the death chamber. Not far away, the family of Donté waited too. For the next hour, the two groups of witnesses would be in close proximity to each other, but carefully separated. At 5:40, the family of the victim was loaded in a white unmarked prison van and driven to the death house, a ride that lasted less than ten minutes. Once there, they were led through an unmarked door into a small square room twelve feet long and twelve feet wide. There were no chairs, no benches. The walls were blank, unmarked. Before them was a closed curtain, and they had been told that on the other side of the curtain was the actual death chamber. At 5:45, the Drumm family made the same trip and entered their witness room through another door. The witness rooms were side by side. A loud cough in one could be heard in the other.

They waited.

CHAPTER 26

At 5:40, the U.S. Supreme Court, by a vote of 5–4, refused to hear Donté’s insanity petition. Ten minutes later, the Court, again 5–4, denied cert on the Boyette petition. Robbie took the calls outside the holding cell. He closed his phone, walked inside to Warden Jeter, and whispered, “It’s over. No more appeals.”

Jeter nodded grimly and said, “You got two minutes.”

“Thanks.” Robbie reentered the holding cell and broke the news to Donté. There was nothing else to do, the fight was over. Donté closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the reality set in. Until that moment there had always been hope, however distant, however remote and unlikely.

Then he swallowed hard, managed a smile, and inched closer to Robbie. Their knees were touching, their heads just inches apart. “Say, Robbie, you think they’ll ever catch the dude who killed Nicole?”

Again, Robbie wanted to tell him about Boyette, but that story was far from over. The truth was anything but certain. “I don’t know, Donté, I can’t predict. Why?”

“Here’s what you gotta do, Robbie. If they never find the guy, then folks will always believe it was me. But if they find him, then you gotta promise me you’ll clear my name. Will you promise me, Robbie? I don’t care how long it takes, but you gotta clear my name.”

“I’ll do that, Donté.”

“I got this vision that one day my momma and my brothers and sister will stand beside my grave and celebrate because I’m an innocent man. Won’t that be great, Robbie?”

“I’ll be there too, Donté.”

“Throw a big party, right there in the cemetery. Invite all my friends, raise all sorts of hell, let the world know that Donté is innocent. Will you do that, Robbie?”

“You have my word.”

“That’ll be great.”

Robbie slowly took both of Donté’s hands and squeezed them in his. “I gotta go, big man. I don’t know what to say, except that it’s been an honor being your lawyer. I have believed you from the very beginning, and I believe you even more today. I’ve always known you are innocent, and I hate the sons of bitches who are making this happen. I’ll keep fighting, Donté. I promise.”

Their foreheads touched. Donté said, “Thank you, Robbie, for everything. I’ll be all right.”

“I’ll never forget you.”

“Take care of my momma, okay, Robbie?”

“You know I will.”

They stood and embraced, a long painful hug that neither wanted to end. Ben Jeter was by the door, waiting. Robbie finally left the holding cell and walked to the end of the short hallway where Keith sat in a folding chair, praying fervently. Robbie sat down beside him and began weeping.

Ben Jeter asked Donté for the last time if he wanted to see the chaplain. He did not. The hallway began to fill with uniformed guards, large healthy boys with stern faces and thick arms. The beef had arrived, just in case the inmate had second thoughts about going peacefully to the death chamber. There was a flurry of activity, and the place was filled with people.

Jeter approached Robbie and said, “Let’s go.” Robbie slowly got to his feet and took a step before he stopped and looked down at Keith. “Come on, Keith,” he said.

Keith looked up blankly, not sure where he was, certain that his little nightmare would end soon and he’d wake up in bed with Dana. “What?”

Robbie grabbed an arm and yanked hard. “Come on. It’s time to witness the execution.”

“But—”

“The warden gave his approval.” Another hard pull. “You’re the spiritual adviser to the condemned man, thus, you qualify as a witness.”