A Time for Mercy

by John Grisham

“I doubt there will be much sympathy for the kid.”

  Atlee took a sip and gazed at the rooftops down the hill. The roof of the Hocutt House was visible in the distance. “What’s a fair punishment, Jake? I don’t like the idea of putting children on trial for capital murder, but the deputy is just as dead regardless of who pulled the trigger. The killer has to be punished, and severely.”

  “That’s the great question, isn’t it? But it doesn’t really matter. The town wants a death verdict and the gas chamber. My job is to fight it.”

  Atlee nodded and took another sip. “You said you needed a favor.”

  “Yes sir. I don’t think it’s fair to try the kid in this county. It will be impossible to pick an impartial jury. Do you agree?”

  “I don’t deal with juries, Jake. You know that.”

  Jake also knew that Judge Atlee knew more about the case than all but a handful of people. “But you know the county, Judge, better than anyone. I plan to ask for a change of venue, and I need your help.”

  “In what way?”

  “Talk to Noose. You guys have a way of communicating that few people know about. You just said that he called you looking for advice on who to appoint. Lean on him to change venue.”

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere but here. He’ll keep jurisdiction because it’s his case and it’s high-profile. Doesn’t want to miss the fun. Plus, he might have an opponent next year and he wants to look good.”

  “Buckley?”

  “That’s the rumor. Buckley’s making noises down there.”

  “Buckley’s a fool and he got slaughtered in his last election.”

  “True, but no sitting judge wants an election.”

  “I’ve never had one,” he said a bit too smugly. No lawyer with half a brain would challenge Reuben Atlee.

  Jake said, “Noose refused to change venue in Carl Lee Hailey’s trial, and his reasoning was that it was so notorious that everybody in the state knew the details. He was probably right. This is different. A dead cop is a big story. Tragic and all, but it happens. The headlines go away. I’ll bet the folks up in Milburn County aren’t talking about it.”

  “I was there last week. Not a word.”

  “It’s different here. The Kofers have lots of friends. Ozzie and his boys are pissed. They’ll keep things stirred up.”

  His Honor was nodding. He took another sip and said, “I’ll talk to Noose.”

  28

  After another round of verbal abuse from Harry Rex, Stan managed to convince his boss down in Jackson to reduce the payment to $25,000. Jake raided his savings and wrote a check for half. Harry Rex found some money and wrote his own, along with a handwritten note vowing to never speak to Stan again. He stopped just short of threatening to punch him the next time he saw him on the square.

  Harry Rex was still confident they would get something out of the Smallwood case, if only a nuisance settlement to save the railroad the costs of defending a big trial. When that trial might take place no one knew. Sean Gilder and the railroad boys were up to their patented stall game and claimed to still be searching for just the right expert. Noose had pushed them hard for over a year, but since Jake’s debacle in discovery he had lost interest in a speedy trial. Gilder’s partner, Doby Pittman, had intimated that the railroad might consider a nuisance settlement to make the case go away. “Something like a hundred grand,” he whispered over more drinks in Jackson.

  In the unlikely event that the railroad and its insurance company did in fact write a check, the litigation expenses—now at $72,000 and change—would be reimbursed first. Whatever was left would be divided, with two-thirds going to Grace Smallwood and one-third to Jake and Harry Rex. The fee would be paltry but at least they would have dodged a bullet with their ill-fated “Tort Sport” loan.

  However, Doby Pittman wasn’t calling the shots and had been wrong before. Sean Gilder showed no signs of backing off and seemed confident of a glorious courtroom victory.

  * * *

  —

  ON FRIDAY, June 8, Lowell Dyer and Jerry Snook, along with Ozzie and his investigator, Kirk Rady, settled into the main conference room of Jake’s office suite. Across the table, Jake sat with Josie on one side and Kiera on the other.

  For the meeting, the girl was wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a bulky sweatshirt. Though the temperature was close to ninety, no one seemed to notice that the sweatshirt seemed out of place. Jake and Josie assumed that everyone in the room knew that the family was wearing secondhand clothing that had been donated. She was six months pregnant with a small baby bump that was well concealed.

  After an attempt at a few awkward pleasantries, Dyer began by explaining to Kiera that since she was a witness to the crime, she might be called by the State to testify. “Do you understand this?” he asked, somewhat delicately.

  She nodded and softly said, “Yes, I do.”

  “Has Mr. Brigance explained to you what will happen in court?”

  “Yes, we’ve talked about it.”

  “Has he told you what to say?”

  She shrugged and looked confused. “I guess.”

  “So what did Mr. Brigance tell you to say?”

  Jake, itching for a fight, interrupted with “Why don’t you just ask her what happened?”

  “Okay, Kiera, what happened that night?”

  Avoiding eye contact, she focused on a legal pad in the center of the table and told her story: awake at 2:00 a.m., waiting for Stuart Kofer to return home; hiding in her bedroom with Drew while their mother waited downstairs; unable to sleep because of the fear; sitting on her bed in the dark with her brother with the door locked; seeing the headlights; hearing the car; hearing the kitchen door open and slam; hearing the voices of her mother and Kofer as they argued; then louder voices as he called her a whore and a liar; the sound of her mother getting slapped around again; then the silence for a few minutes as they waited; the heavy footsteps of Kofer climbing the stairs, calling her name as he got closer; the rattling of her doorknob; the banging on the door as they cried and held their breath and prayed for help; the silence for a moment as he decided to leave them alone; the sounds of him going back down the stairs; the horror of knowing their mother was injured or else she would have been fighting to protect them; the long awful silence as they waited.

  Her voice cracked and she wiped her cheeks with a tissue.

  Dyer said, “I realize this is difficult, but please try to finish. This is very important.”

  She nodded and clenched her jaws in determination. She looked at Jake and he nodded. Finish it.

  Drew eased downstairs and found their mother unconscious. He ran back upstairs and, in tears, said she was dead. They went to the kitchen where Kiera begged her mother to wake up, then she sat down and took her mother’s head in her lap. One of them, she couldn’t remember who, said to call 911. Drew made the call as Kiera held her mother, who wasn’t breathing. They knew she was dead. She held her mother’s head and stroked her hair and whispered to her. Drew was moving around but she wasn’t sure what he was doing. He said that Kofer was passed out on his bed. Drew closed the bedroom door and Kiera heard the gunshot.

  She began sobbing and the adults in the room avoided eye contact. After a minute or two, she wiped her cheeks again and looked at Dyer.

  He asked, “What did Drew say after the gunshot?”

  “He said he shot Stu.”

  “So, you did not actually see him shoot Stuart?”

  “No.”

  “But you heard the gunshot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Drew say anything else?”

  She paused and thought about this and finally said, “I don’t remember anything else he said.”

  “Okay, what happened next?”

  Another pause. “I don’t know. I was just holding my mother and
I couldn’t believe she was dead.”

  “Do you remember a deputy arriving on the scene?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where were you when you saw the deputy?”

  “I was still on the floor, holding my mother.”

  “Do you remember the deputy asking you what happened?”

  “I think so. Yes.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I said something like, ‘Drew shot Stuart.’ ”

  Dyer offered a sappy smile and said, “Thank you, Kiera. I know this is not easy. While you were holding your mother, was she breathing?”

  “No, I didn’t think so. I held her for a long time and I just knew she was dead.”

  “Did you try to check her pulse?”

  “I don’t think so. I was too scared. It’s kinda hard to think when something like that happens.”

  “I understand.” Dyer looked at some notes and paused before proceeding. “Now, I believe you used the word ‘again’ when you said that you heard Stuart Kofer and your mother arguing and fighting downstairs. Is this correct?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “So this had happened before?”

  “Yes sir. Many times.”

  “Did you ever actually see these fights?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t call them fights. My mother was just trying to protect herself when he beat her.”

  “And you saw this?”

  “One time, yes. He came home late and drunk, as usual.”

  “Did he ever hit you or Drew?”

  Jake interrupted with “She’s not answering that.”

  “Why not?” Dyer shot across the table.

  “Because on direct examination you’re not going to ask that question. She’ll be your witness then.”

  “I have the right to know what her testimony will be.”

  “On direct, when she’s your witness. You have no right to know what she might say on cross.”

  Dyer ignored Jake, looked at Kiera, and asked the question again. “Did Stuart Kofer ever hit you or Drew?”

  Jake said, “Don’t answer that.”

  “You’re not her lawyer, Jake.”

  “But she’ll be my witness on cross. Let’s just say that her testimony on cross will not be helpful to the State.”

  “You’re wrong about this, Jake.”

  “Then we’ll have a chat with Judge Noose.”

  “You’re out of line here.”

  “We’ll see, but she’s not answering that question until the judge orders her to. You got what you want, now let it go.”

  “I will not. I’ll file a motion to compel her to answer my questions.”

  “Fine. And we’ll argue your motion before the judge.”

  Dyer made a production of putting the cap back onto his pen and gathering his notes. Meeting over. He said, “Thank you, Kiera, for your time.”

  Jake, Kiera, and Josie didn’t move as the rest of them stood and filed out of the room. When the door was closed, Jake patted Kiera on the arm and said, “Nice job.”

  It was a splendid performance by a fourteen-year-old girl.

  * * *

  —

  BROKE AS HE was, Jake wanted to host a backyard barbecue. Late Friday afternoon, he fired up his grill on the patio, marinated chicken breasts and thighs, and roasted hot dogs and corn on the cob while Carla mixed a large pitcher of lemonade.

  The Hailey clan arrived first: Carl Lee and Gwen with their four children, Tonya, now seventeen and going on twenty, and the three boys, Ernie, Jarvis, and Micah. They always arrived a bit reticent because they were guests at a fine home in the white section of town, a rarity in Clanton. Jake had never been to a barbecue or a cocktail party or even a wedding to which blacks were invited. Since Carl Lee’s trial five years earlier, he and Carla had been determined to change this. They had hosted the Haileys, along with Ozzie and his family, many times on the patio. And they had been to the Haileys’ home for cookouts and sprawling family gatherings where they were the only white folks. Among the blacks in Ford County, Jake Brigance could do no wrong. He was their lawyer. The problem was they had little to pay in the way of fees, and most of their legal issues fit in the pro bono category, Jake’s specialty.

  Ozzie had been invited but found an excuse to stay away.

  Josie and Kiera arrived with Charles and Meg McGarry. Meg was nine months pregnant and due any moment. Kiera was four months behind and was still wearing the same bulky sweatshirt, in spite of the heat.

  Harry Rex was always invited, along with his current wife, but he usually declined because beer was not permitted. Lucien was an occasional guest, and had even brought Sallie once, the only time the two were seen together about town. But he, like Harry Rex, couldn’t enjoy a barbecue without booze. That, and he took pride in being fiercely antisocial.

  Stan Atcavage had once been on the list but rarely made an appearance. His wife, Tilda, didn’t like to mingle with the lower classes.

  As the kids played badminton and the women huddled on the patio and fussed over Meg and her due date, Jake and Carl Lee sipped lemonade in lawn chairs in the shade and caught up with the gossip. Lester was always a topic. He was Carl Lee’s younger brother and lived in Chicago where he earned big wages as a union ironworker. His troubles with women were always the source of tall stories and endless humor.

  When everyone else was preoccupied, Carl Lee said, “Looks like you’ve got yourself in another mess.”

  “You could say that,” Jake agreed with a smile.

  “When’s the trial?”

  “August, two months away.”

  “Why don’t you put me on the jury?”

  “Carl Lee, you’re the last person they would put on my jury.”

  They enjoyed the light moment. Carl Lee still worked at a lumber mill and was now a foreman. He owned his home and five acres around it, and he and Gwen raised their children in a strict environment with many rules. Church every Sunday, plenty of chores for the kids, homework and good grades, respect for elders. His mother lived half a mile down the road and saw her grandchildren every day.

  “Willie didn’t care for Kofer,” Carl Lee said. Willie Hastings was Gwen’s second cousin and the first black deputy Ozzie hired.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “He had no use for blacks. He sucked up to Ozzie for obvious reasons, but he had a dark side. Real dark. Willie thinks the boy got messed up in the army. They kicked him out, you know?”

  “I know. A dishonorable discharge. But Ozzie liked him and he was a good cop.”

  “Willie says Ozzie knew more than he’s lettin’ on. Says all the deputies knew that Kofer was outta control, drinkin’, druggin’, fightin’ in the clubs.”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  “Ain’t no rumor, Jake. You ever hear of ‘clearin’ a bar’?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a fool’s game where a bunch of drunk thugs walk into a tonk that ain’t one of theirs. On cue, they start a brawl, start punchin’ folks and just beat the shit out of everybody there, then they hit the door and make their escape. Sort of an extreme version of the Friday Night Fights. It’s supposed to be great fun because you never know what you’re gonna find inside the tonk. Maybe a bunch of old men who can’t fight, maybe some real badasses who break bottles and pool sticks.”

  “And Kofer was into it?”

  “Oh yeah. He and his crowd were known for clearin’ bars, usually joints outside of the county. A few months back, not long before his demise, they hit a black tonk down in Polk County, just over the line. I guess Kofer, bein’ an upstandin’ officer of the law, didn’t want to get caught in Ford County.”

  “They raided a black honky-tonk?”

  “Yep, accordin’ to Willie. Joint called the Moondog.”

&nb
sp; “I’ve heard of it. I had a client years ago who was charged in a knife fight down there. Rough place.”

  “That’s it. Always a big dice game on Saturday night. Kofer and four other white guys came through the door throwin’ punches and kickin’ people. Broke up the dice game. Helluva brawl. Some tough guys, Jake.”

  “And they made it out alive?”

  “Barely. Some dude pulled a piece and shot the walls. White boys scrambled out and got away.”

  “That’s crazy, Carl Lee.”

  “Crazy as hell. Lucky they all didn’t get cut or shot.”

  “And Willie knew this?”

  “Yep, but he’s a cop and he ain’t one to rat on another cop. I don’t think Ozzie heard about it.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Well, Kofer was crazy like that and he ran with a tough crowd. You gonna use that at trial?”

  “I don’t know. Hang on.” Jake jumped to his feet and walked to the grill where he flipped the chicken and added more sauce. Pastor McGarry met him there and, eager to get away from the women, followed Jake back to the shade with Carl Lee. The conversation shifted from Stuart Kofer to the badminton game where Hanna and Tonya, on one side of the net, were having a bad go of it against the three Hailey boys on the other side. Finally, Tonya yelled at her father to come play and even things out. Carl Lee happily picked up a racket and joined the fun.

  At dusk, they gathered around a picnic table and dined on chicken, hot dogs, and potato salad. The talk was of summer things—trips to the lake, fishing, baseball and softball games, family gatherings.

  The looming murder trial seemed far away.

  29

  Four days later, June 12, Meg McGarry gave birth to a healthy baby at the Ford County Hospital. After work, Jake and Carla drove over for a quick visit. They took flowers and a box of chocolates, though food was not needed. The flock at the Good Shepherd Bible Church descended upon the hospital halfway through labor and the waiting room was filling up with casseroles and cakes.

  After a brief visit with Meg and a glimpse of the newborn in her mother’s arms, Jake and Carla were obliged to have cake and coffee with the ladies of the church. They stayed longer than they had planned, primarily because Jake was among people who liked him.