by John Grisham
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.
“How much insurance coverage?” Harry Rex asked with a smile.
Doby smiled back and said, “I can’t answer that. Plenty.”
“Figures. He’s gonna ask the jury for a lot more than two million.”
“But it’s Ford County, a place that’s never seen a million-dollar verdict.”
“There’s always the first time, Pitt. I’ll bet we can find twelve people who haven’t heard about the murder.”
Doby laughed and Harry Rex was forced to do the same. “Hell, Harry Rex, you can’t find two people who don’t know about it.”
“Maybe, but we’ll do our research. Noose’ll give us plenty of time to pick a jury.”
“I’m sure he will. Look, Harry Rex, I want you to get some big bucks, some of that dirty insurance money, okay? A nice settlement that’ll take the pressure off. But to do so, Brigance has got to get rid of that kid. Right now that case is a liability, at least in the minds of Sean Gilder and Walter Sullivan.”
“We’re working on it.”
18
It was well known that the law business peaked at noon each Friday and then shut down. The lawyers who normally clogged the halls of the courthouse vanished after lunch. Most of them fibbed to their secretaries and left for the country stores where they bought cold beer and roamed the back roads in blessed solitude. With the phones silent and the bosses gone, the secretaries often sneaked away too. No self-respecting judge would be caught dead in a robe on Friday afternoon. Most went fishing or played golf. The clerks who generally milled about laden with important documents ran errands across the street and didn’t come back, instead easing away to beauty parlors and grocery stores. By mid-afternoon, the wheels of justice ground to a halt.
Jake was planning to call Harry Rex to explore the possibility of a drink to catch up on things. At 3:30, he was done for the week and contemplating which excuse to feed Portia so he could leave without appearing shiftless. He still thought it was important to lead by example and she was quite impressionable. However, after working there for two years Portia knew his schedule and his lame excuses.
She buzzed him at 3:40 and said there was someone to see him. No, the person had not made an appointment. Yes, she realized it was Friday afternoon, but it was Pastor Charles McGarry and he told her the matter was urgent.
Jake welcomed him to his office and they sat in a corner, Charles on the old leather sofa, Jake in a chair that was at least a hundred years old. The preacher declined coffee or tea and was obviously troubled. He told the story of driving Josie and Kiera to Whitfield on Tuesday, leaving them there, and fetching them the following day. Jake knew all this. He had spoken twice with Dr. Sadie Weaver and knew the family had spent almost seven hours in three sessions.
Charles said, “When we were driving down early Tuesday, Kiera got sick and threw up twice. Josie said she always got car sick real easy. I didn’t think much about it. When I went back to get them at Whitfield on Wednesday, one of the nurses told me that Kiera had been sick that morning, nausea, throwing up, you know? I thought it was unusual because she had not been in a car that morning. They had a room on the campus. Driving home Wednesday afternoon she was fine. Yesterday morning, Mrs. Golden, the lady who’s tutoring her at church, said she got sick again and threw up. And not for the first time. I told my wife, Meg, about it and, well, you know how women are usually smarter than we are? Well, Meg and I have one child and she’s due with our second in two months. We are so blessed and very excited. She had one of those home pregnancy tests left over from last year.”
Jake was nodding. He had purchased several since Hanna arrived, and the results had always been negative, to their great disappointment.
“Meg agreed to have a chat with Josie. Kiera took the test and it’s positive. I drove them to a doctor in Tupelo this morning. She’s three months along. Wouldn’t tell the doctor or his nurse anything about the father.”
Jake felt lik
e he’d been mule-kicked in the gut.
The preacher was on a roll. “Driving back this morning, she got sick again and threw up in my car. What a mess. Poor girl. We got her back to the church and Josie put her to bed. She and Meg took turns sitting with her until she felt better. She had some soup for lunch and we all just sat around in the kitchen and she started talking, you know. She said Kofer started molesting her back around Christmas, said he did it about five or six times and that he threatened to kill her if she told anyone. She didn’t tell Josie and of course this near ’bout killed her mother. A lot of tears today, Jake. Mine too. Can you imagine? Fourteen years old and getting raped by a thug that she was terrified of? Too frightened to tell anyone. Not sure when it would end. She said she thought about killing herself.”
“Did Drew know?” Jake asked. The answer could have enormous consequences.
“Don’t know. You need to ask her that, Jake. You need to talk to her and to Josie. They’re a mess, as you might guess. I mean, think about what they’ve been through in the past two weeks. The shooting, surgery, hospitals, Drew in jail, Whitfield and back, losing everything they had, which wasn’t much, but now they’re living in the back of our church. And all the talk about putting Drew in the gas chamber. They’re pitiful, Jake, and they really need your help. They trust you and want your advice. I’m doing the best I can, Jake, but I’m just a rookie preacher who never made it to college.” His voice cracked and his eyes watered. He looked away, shook his head, fought his emotions. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day with those two, Jake. A real long day, and they need to talk to you.”
“Okay, okay.”
“And there’s something else, Jake. Josie’s first reaction was that they would get an abortion. She feels pretty strong about it, at least for now. And I’m not in favor, for obvious reasons. I’m deadset against it. Josie seems to have some strong feelings. So do I. If Kiera gets an abortion then she’s outta my church.”
“Let’s worry about that later, Charles. You said she saw a doctor in Tupelo?”
“Yes. Josie likes the guy who operated on her, so she called his nurse. They called someone else and the guy did a favor and got her in. Said she’s healthy and all, but she’s just a kid.”
“And Meg knows all this?”
“Meg was in the room, Jake. Meg is right there with them.”
“Okay, it’s real important to keep this as quiet as possible. My head is spinning as I try to think of all of the ramifications. I know how gossip flies around in a small church.”
“Right, right.”
Almost as fast as it flies around in a coffee shop. Jake asked, “Is she showing?”
“I couldn’t tell anything. I mean, I tried not to stare, but I don’t think so. Why don’t you come see for yourself, Jake? They’re at the church waiting for you.”
* * *
—
KIERA WAS NAPPING upstairs when Jake entered the rear door that opened into the kitchen. At one end of a long table was a stack of textbooks and notepads, proof that the student was getting tutored at some level. Meg and Josie were at the table working on a large jigsaw puzzle. The McGarrys’ four-year-old, Justin, was playing quietly in a corner.
Josie stood and hugged Jake as if they’d been close for years. Meg went to the counter and rinsed out the coffeepot to brew a fresh one. Though the windows were up and the curtains were moving with the breeze, the room had the heavy feel and smell of a long day’s drama.
It took twenty-two minutes to drive from the Clanton square to the Good Shepherd Bible Church, and in that short period Jake had tried, unsuccessfully, to first identify all the new legal issues, and then to untangle them. Assuming she was really pregnant and that Kofer was the father, how would this be presented at Drew’s trial? Since she was present at the shooting, she would undoubtedly be called as a witness for the prosecution. Could her pregnancy be mentioned? What if her mother insisted on an abortion? Would the jury know about that? If Drew knew Kofer was raping his sister, wouldn’t that seriously impact his defense? He killed to stop it. He killed out of retribution. Regardless of why he killed, Lowell Dyer could argue persuasively that he knew exactly what he was doing. How could they prove the child was Kofer’s? What if someone else was the father? With Kiera’s troubled background, wasn’t it possible she had started having sex early? Could there be a boyfriend somewhere? Was Jake obliged to inform Lowell Dyer that his star witness had been impregnated by the deceased? Depending on when the trial took place, would it be wise to put her on the stand when she was obviously pregnant? By proving the rapes and physical abuse, wasn’t Jake in effect putting Stuart Kofer on trial? If Kiera chose to abort, who would pay for it? If she didn’t, what would happen to the child? With no home, would Kiera be allowed to keep it?
As he drove, he had decided that these issues required an entire team. Lawyer, minister, at least two psychiatrists, some counselors.
Jake looked across the table at Josie and asked, point-blank, “Did Drew know that Kofer was raping Kiera?”
The tears were instant, the emotions raw and barely contained. “She won’t say,” Josie said. “Which leads me to believe that he did. Otherwise, why wouldn’t she just say no? I didn’t know. But I cannot believe she would tell Drew and not me.”
“And you had no clue?”
She shook her head and began sobbing. Meg poured Jake some coffee in a ceramic cup stained brown from decades of use. Like everything else in the room, it appeared to be well used but clean.
Josie wiped her face with a paper towel and said, “What will this do to Drew’s case?”
“It helps. It hurts. Some jurors might be sympathetic to Drew for taking matters into his own hands and protecting his sister, if that’s what he was thinking. We don’t know yet. The prosecutors will make much of the fact that he killed Kofer to stop him, so he knew what he was doing and can’t claim insanity. I honestly can’t tell you how it will play out. Keep in mind, I’m just on the case temporarily. There’s a good chance Judge Noose will appoint someone else for the trial.”
“You can’t leave us, Jake,” Josie said.
Oh yes I can, he thought. Especially now. “We’ll see.” In search of a subject slightly less depressing, he said, “I understand you spent time with Drew.”
She nodded.
“And how is he doing?”
“As well as can be expected. They put him on some meds, some antidepressants, and he says he’s sleepin’ better. He likes the doctors, says the food is good. He’d rather stay there than in the jail here. Why can’t he get out, Jake?”
“We’ve had this conversation, Josie. He has been indicted for capital murder. Nobody gets bail in a case like this.”
“But what about school? He’s two years behind anyway, and he’s just sittin’ there losin’ ground every day. They won’t put him in a class at Whitfield because he’s a security risk and only temporary. Bring him back here to wait for trial, and they ain’t got no tutors at the jail here. Why can’t they send him to a juvenile facility somewhere? Someplace where they at least make ’em go to class.”
“Because he’s not being treated like a juvenile. As of now he’s an adult.”
“I know, I know. Adult? What a joke. He’s just a little kid who’s not even shavin’ yet. One of his counselors down there told me she’d never seen a sixteen-year-old boy as physically immature as Drew.” A pause as she wiped her red cheeks. “His father was like that. Just a kid.”
Jake glanced at Meg, who glanced at Charles. Jake decided to dig a little. “Who is his father?”
Josie laughed and shrugged and would’ve said “What the hell” but she was in a church. “A guy named Ray Barber. He was a boy down the road and I sorta grew up with him. When we were fourteen we started foolin’ around one day, one thing led to another and we did it. Did it again and again and were havin’ some fun. Didn’t know a
thing about birth control or basic biology, we were just a coupla stupid kids carryin’ on. I got pregnant at fifteen and Ray wanted to get married. He was afraid he might get cut off. My mother sent me to live with an aunt in Shreveport to have the baby. I don’t recall any discussion about terminatin’ the pregnancy. I had the baby and they wanted me to give it up, and I should have. I really should have. What I’ve put my kids through is nothin’ but a sin.”
She took a deep breath, then a sip of water from a bottle. “Anyway, I remember Roy worryin’ because the other boys were shavin’ and gettin’ hair on their legs and he wasn’t. He was afraid he was growin’ up late, like his father. Evidently, other parts were workin’ okay.”
“What happened to Ray?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. I never went back home. When I wouldn’t give up the baby, my aunt kicked me out. You know something, Jake, gettin’ pregnant at fifteen was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. It changed my life, and not for the better. I love Drew, same as I love Kiera, but when a girl has a baby that young her whole future is shot to hell. Pardon my language. The girl probably won’t finish school. She probably won’t marry well. She probably won’t find a good job. She’ll probably do what I did—bounce from one bad man to another. That’s why Kiera is not havin’ this baby, you understand, Jake? If I have to rob a bank to get the money for an abortion, I’ll do it. She is not messin’ up her life. Hell, she didn’t even want to have sex. I did. Pardon my language.”
Charles shook his head and bit his lip but said nothing. It was obvious, though, that he would have plenty to say about an abortion.
Calmly, Jake said, “I understand. But this topic can be discussed at a later time. For now, I need to ask a question that has to be asked. She says Kofer is the father. Is there a chance there could be anyone else?”
Nothing fazed Josie, not even the delicate suggestion that her young daughter might have been sleeping around. She shook her head, no. “I asked her that. As you have probably noticed, she’s normal for her age, a lot more mature than her brother. I know from experience what kids can do, so I asked her if there had been anybody else. She got upset at the question, said absolutely not. Said Kofer was the first to ever touch her down there.”