by John Grisham
“I’d like to see her.”
“Very well.”
Pete followed them down the hall and up one flight of stairs. A nurse was waiting beside an unmarked door. Hilsabeck nodded at Pete, who opened the door and stepped inside. The nurse and the doctor waited in the hall.
The room was lit by only a small dim ceiling light. There was no window. A door was opened to a tiny bathroom. On a narrow, wood-framed bed Liza Banning was propped up by pillows and awake, waiting. She wore a faded gray gown and was tucked in by sheets. Pete carefully walked to the bed and sat by her feet. She watched him closely, as if afraid, and said nothing. She was almost forty but looked much older, with graying hair, gaunt cheeks, wrinkles, pale skin, and hollow eyes. The room was dark, quiet, motionless.
Pete finally said, “Liza, I’ve come to say good-bye.”
In a voice that was surprisingly firm she replied, “I want to see my children.”
“They’ll be here in a day or so, after I’m gone, I promise.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled, as if relieved. Minutes passed and Pete began gently rubbing her leg through the sheets. She did not respond.
“The children will be fine, Liza, I promise. They’re strong and they’ll survive us.”
Tears began running down her cheeks, then dripping off her chin. She did not reach to wipe them, nor did he. Minutes passed and the tears continued. She whispered, “Do you love me, Pete?”
“I do. I always have and I’ve never stopped.”
“Can you forgive me?”
Pete looked at the floor and stared blankly for a long time. He cleared his throat and said, “I cannot lie. I’ve tried many times, Liza, but, no, I cannot forgive you.”
“Please, Pete, please say you’ll forgive me before you go.”
“I’m sorry. I love you and I’ll go to my grave loving you.”
“Just like in the old days?”
“Just like in the old days.”
“What happened to those days, Pete? Why can’t we be together again with the kids?”
“We know the answer, Liza. Too much has happened. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Pete.” She started sobbing and he moved closer and gently embraced her. She was frail and brittle and for a second he flashed back to the skeletons he was forced to bury on Bataan, once healthy soldiers starved to death and weighing less than a hundred pounds. He closed his eyes and pushed those thoughts away and somehow managed to remember her body back in the glory days when he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He longed for those days, for the not too distant past when they lived in a state of near-constant arousal and never missed an opportunity.
He finally broke down and cried too.
* * *
—
The last supper was cooked by Nineva and it was Pete’s favorite: fried pork chops, whipped potatoes and gravy, and boiled okra. He arrived after dark with the sheriff and Roy, who sat on the porch and rocked in wicker chairs as they waited.
Nineva served the family in the dining room, then left the house, in tears. Amos walked her home, after saying his good-byes.
Pete carried the conversation, primarily because no one else had much to say. What were they supposed to say at that awful moment? Florry couldn’t eat and Joel and Stella had no appetites. Pete, though, was hungry and carved his pork chops as he described his visit to Whitfield. “I told your mom that you would see her on Friday, if that’s what you want.”
“That should be a pleasant little gathering,” Joel said. “We bury you Friday morning, then race off to the nuthouse to see Mom.”
“She needs to see you,” Pete said, chewing.
“We tried once before,” Stella said. She had not lifted a fork. “But you intervened. Why?”
“Well, we’re not going to argue over our last meal, now are we, Stella?”
“Of course not. We’re Bannings and we don’t discuss anything. We’re expected to keep a stiff upper lip and just plow on, as if everything will be okay, all secrets will be buried, life will eventually return to normal, and no one will ever know why you’ve put us in this horrible position. All anger is to be suppressed, all questions ignored. We’re Bannings, the toughest of all.” Her voice cracked and she wiped her face.
Pete ignored her and said, “I’ve met with John Wilbanks and everything is in order. Buford has the crops under control and he’ll meet with Florry to make sure the farm runs smoothly. The land is in your names now and it will stay in the family. The income will be split each year and you’ll get checks by Christmas.”
Joel put down his fork and said, “So life just goes on, right, Dad? The State kills you tomorrow, we bury you the next day, then we leave and go back to our own little worlds as if nothing has changed.”
“Everybody dies at some point, Joel. My father did not see fifty, nor did his father. Bannings don’t live long.”
“Now, that’s comforting,” Florry said.
“Male Bannings, I should say. The women folk tend to live longer.”
Stella said, “Could we talk about something other than dying?”
Joel said, “Oh, sure, sis. The weather, the crops, the Cardinals? What’s on your mind at this terrible hour?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she touched her napkin to her eyes. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe we’re sitting here trying to eat when this is the last time we’ll ever see you.”
“You have to be strong, Stella,” Pete said.
“I’m tired of being strong, or pretending to be. I can’t believe this is happening to our family. Why have you done this?”
There was a long gap as both women wiped their eyes. Joel took a bite of potatoes and swallowed without chewing. “So, I guess you plan to take your secrets to your grave, right, Dad? Even now, at the last hour, you can’t tell us why you killed Dexter Bell, so we are destined to spend the rest of our lives wondering why. Is that where we are?”
“I’ve told you I’ll not discuss it.”
“Of course not.”
“You owe us an explanation,” Stella said.
“I don’t owe you a damned thing,” Pete snapped angrily, then took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. But I’ll not discuss it.”
“I have a question,” Joel said calmly. “And since this will be my last chance to ask it, and it’s something I’ll be curious about for the rest of my life, I’m going to ask. You saw a lot of terrible things in the war, a lot of suffering and dying and you yourself killed a lot of men in battle. When a soldier sees that much death, does it make you callous? Does it make life and living somewhat cheaper? Do you reach a point where you think that death is not that big of a deal? I’m not being critical, Dad, I’m just curious.”
Pete took a bite of a pork chop and chewed it as he considered the question. “I suppose so. I reached a point where I knew I was going to die, and when that happens in battle a soldier accepts his fate and fights even harder. I lost a lot of friends. I even buried some of them. So I stopped making friends. Then I didn’t die. I survived, and because of what I went through it made life even more precious. But I realized that dying is a part of living. Everybody reaches the end. Some sooner than others. Does that answer your question?”
“Not really. I guess there are no answers.”
“I thought we weren’t talking about dying,” Florry said.
“This is surreal,” Stella said.
“Life is never cheap,” Pete continued. “Every day is a gift, and don’t forget that.”
“What about Dexter Bell’s life?” Joel asked.
“He deserved to die, Joel. You’ll never understand it, and I suppose you’ll learn one day that life is filled with things we can never understand. There’s no guarantee that you are allowed to live with the full knowledge of everything. There are a lot of mysteries out the
re. Accept them and move on.”
Pete wiped his mouth and shoved his plate away.
“I have a question,” Stella said. “You’ll be remembered for a long time around here, and not for the right reasons. In fact, your death will probably become a legend. My question is this: How do you want us to remember you?”
Pete smiled and replied, “As a good man who created two beautiful children. Let the world say what it wants, it cannot say anything bad about the two of you. I’ll die a proud man because of you and your brother.”
Stella covered her face with her napkin and began sobbing. Pete slowly stood and said, “I need to be going. The sheriff has had a long day.”
Joel stood with tears running down his cheeks and hugged his father, who said, “Be strong.”
Stella had dissolved into a mess of tears and couldn’t stand. Pete bent over, kissed her on the top of her head, and said, “Enough crying now. Be strong for your mother. She’ll be back here one day.”
He looked at Florry and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded as he left the dining room. They listened as the front door closed, then all three had a good cry. Joel walked to the front porch and watched the sheriff’s car disappear on the highway.
Chapter 19
Thursday, July 10, the date on the second death warrant signed by Judge Rafe Oswalt, Pete Banning awoke at dawn and lit a cigarette. Roy Lester brought him a cup of coffee and asked if he wanted breakfast. He did not. Roy asked if he’d slept well and he replied that he had. No, there was nothing Roy could do for him at the moment, but thanks anyway. Leon Colliver called out from across the hallway and suggested one last game of cribbage. Pete liked that idea and they arranged their game board between their cells. Pete reminded Leon that he owed him $2.35 in winnings, and Leon reminded Pete that he had not paid him for all the illegal liquor they had consumed in the past nine months. They had a laugh, shook hands, and called it even.
“Hard to believe this is really gonna happen, Pete,” Leon said as he shuffled the deck.
“The law is the law. Sometimes it works for you; sometimes it doesn’t.”
“It just don’t seem fair.”
“Who said life is fair?”
After a few hands, Leon pulled out his flask and said, “You may not need this but I do.”
“I’ll pass,” Pete said.
The door opened and Nix Gridley approached them. He appeared fidgety and tired. “Can I do anything for you, Pete?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Okay. At some point we need to walk through the schedule, just so we’ll know what to expect.”
“Later, Nix, if you don’t mind. I’m busy right now.”
“I see. Look, there’s a bunch of reporters hanging around outside the jail, all wanting to know if you’ll have anything to say.”
“Why would I talk to them now?”
“That’s what I figured. And John Wilbanks has already called. He wants to come over.”
“I’ve had enough of John Wilbanks. There’s nothing left to say. Tell him I’m busy.”
Nix rolled his eyes at Leon, turned, and left.
* * *
—
The soldiers began arriving before noon. They came from nearby counties, easy trips of two and three hours. They came from other states, after driving all night. They came alone in pickup trucks, and they came in carloads. They came in the uniforms they once proudly wore, and they came in overalls, khakis, and suits with ties. They came unarmed with no plans to cause trouble, but one word from their hero and they would be ready to fight. They came to honor him, to be there when he died because he had been there for them. They came to say farewell.
They parked around the courthouse and then around the square, and when there was no place to park they lined the streets of the downtown neighborhoods. They milled about, greeting each other, staring grimly at the townsfolk, people they really didn’t like, because it was them, the locals, who had sentenced him to die. They roamed the halls of the courthouse and stared at the locked door of the upstairs courtroom. They filled the coffee shops and cafés and killed time, speaking gravely to each other but not to anyone from the town. They grouped around the silver truck and studied the cables that ran along the main sidewalk and into the courthouse. They shook their heads and thought of ways to stop it all, but they moved on, waiting. They glared at the police and deputies, a dozen armed and uniformed men, most sent in from nearby counties.
* * *
—
The governor was Fielding Wright, a lawyer from the Delta who had become a successful politician. He had stepped into the office eight months earlier, when his predecessor died, and he was currently seeking election to a full four-year term. After lunch on Thursday, he met with the Attorney General, who assured him there was nothing left in the courts that might stop the execution.
Governor Wright had received a flood of letters requesting, even demanding, clemency for Pete Banning, but others had asked for justice in the full measure of the law. He viewed his election opponents as weak and did not wish to politicize the execution, but like most people he was intrigued by the case. He left his office in the state capital in the backseat of a 1946 Cadillac, his official vehicle, with a driver and an aide. They followed two state troopers in a marked car and headed north. They stopped in Grenada, where the governor met briefly with a prominent supporter, and made another stop for the same reason in Oxford. They arrived in Clanton shortly before five and drove around the square. The governor was amazed at the crowd milling about the courthouse lawn. He had been assured by the sheriff that matters were under control and additional police were not needed.
Word had leaked that the governor was coming, and another crowd, mostly reporters, waited outside the jail. When he stepped out of his car, cameras flashed and questions were thrown at him. He smiled and ignored them and quickly went inside. Nix Gridley was waiting in his office, along with John Wilbanks and the state senator, an ally. The governor knew Wilbanks, who was supporting one of his opponents in the election. That did not matter at the moment. To the governor, this was not a political event.
Roy Lester brought in the prisoner and introductions were made. John Wilbanks asked the senator to please step outside. What was about to be discussed was none of his business. He reluctantly left. When the four men were alone, the governor went through a breezy narrative of having met Pete Banning’s father years earlier at some event in Jackson. He knew the family was important to the area and had been prominent for many years.
Pete was not impressed.
The governor said, “Now, Mr. Banning, as you know I have the power to commute your death sentence to life in prison, and that’s why I’m here. I really don’t see any benefit to proceeding with your execution.”
Pete listened carefully, then replied, “Well, thank you, sir, for coming, but I did not request this meeting.”
“Nor did anyone else. I’m here of my own volition, and I’m willing to grant clemency and stop the execution, but only on one condition. I will do so if you explain to me, and to the sheriff and to your own lawyer, why you killed that preacher.”
Pete glared at John Wilbanks as if he was behind a conspiracy. Wilbanks shook his head.
Pete looked at the governor without expression and said, “I have nothing to say.”
“We’re dealing with life and death here, Mr. Banning. Surely you do not want to face the electric chair in a matter of hours.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“I’m dead serious, Mr. Banning. Tell us why, and your execution will not take place.”
“I have nothing to say.”
John Wilbanks dropped his head and walked to a window. Nix Gridley gave an exasperated sigh as if to say, “I told you so.” The governor stared at Pete, who returned the stare without blinking.
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Finally, Governor Wright said, “Very well. As you wish.” He stood and left the office, walked outside, ignored the reporters again, and drove away to the home of a doctor where dinner was being prepared.
* * *
—
As dusk settled over the town, the crowd swelled around the courthouse and the streets were filled with people. Vehicles could no longer move and traffic was diverted.
Roy Lester left the jail in his patrol car and drove to the home of Mildred Highlander. Florry was waiting, and he returned to the jail with her. They managed to sneak through the rear door and avoid the reporters. She was taken to the sheriff’s office, where Nix greeted her with a hug. He left her there, and a few minutes later her brother was brought in. They sat facing each other, their knees touching.
“Have you eaten?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “No, they offered a last meal but I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“What did the governor want?”
“Just stopped by to say farewell, I guess. How are the kids?”
“‘How are the kids?’ What do you expect, Pete? They’re a mess. They’re devastated and who can blame them?”
“It’ll be over soon.”
“For you, yes, but not for us. You get to go out in a blaze of glory, but we are left to pick up the pieces and wonder why the hell this happened.”
“I’m sorry, Florry. I had no choice.”
She was wiping her eyes and biting her tongue. She wanted to lash out and finally unload everything, but she also wanted to hug him one last time to make sure he knew that his family loved him.
He leaned closer, took her hands, and said, “There are some things you should know.”
Chapter 20
The prisoner made only one request. He wanted to walk from the jail to the courthouse, a short distance of only two blocks, but nevertheless a long march to the grave. It was important to him to walk proudly, head high, hands unshackled, as he bravely faced the death he had so often eluded. He wanted to show the courage that few people could ever understand. He would die a proud man with no grudges, no regrets.