The Reckoning

by John Grisham

  John Wilbanks believed that any verdict under $50,000 was survivable. The land could be mortgaged to withstand it. Most farmers were saddled with debt anyway, and with hard work, decent weather, good prices—the daily prayer on every farm—the Bannings could eventually pay off the mortgage. Wilbanks was also counting on the traditional conservatism of rural jurors. People with almost no spare change always found it difficult to award big sums to others.

  On cross-examination, Burch Dunlap haggled with Dr. Satterfield over his numbers, and within minutes everyone was confused over present values, discounted values, projected rates of inflation, and structured payouts. The jurors especially seemed baffled, and as Joel watched them drown he realized that Dunlap was intentionally muddying the water.

  Late in the afternoon, after the testimony was over and the lawyers had finished their motions and legal posturing, Burch Dunlap rose to address the jury. Without notes and seemingly without forethought, he talked about the gravity of this wrongful death, one not caused by negligence. At times, everyone is negligent, so we can understand why certain accidents happen. We are all human. But this was no accident. This was a well-planned, premeditated, cold-blooded murder. A fatal assault against an unarmed man by a soldier who knew how to kill.

  Joel could not take his eyes off the jurors, and they were spellbound by Dunlap.

  The damages for such a monstrous deed? Let’s forget about the dead people—Reverend Bell and Pete Banning—and let’s talk about those left behind. He, Dunlap, wasn’t too worried about the Banning family. The two kids were being beautifully educated. Florry, well, she owned her own section of land, free and clear. They’ve had privileged lives. What about Jackie Bell and her three children?

  Here, Dunlap digressed into a side story that was nothing short of brilliant. Near tears, he told the jury of how his own father died when he was only six years old, and of the heartbreaking devastation it brought to his mother and siblings. He went on, and when he began to describe the burial and watching his father’s casket disappear into the grave, John Wilbanks finally stood and said, “Please, Your Honor, this has nothing to do with our case.”

  Judge Stratton shrugged and said, “It’s a closing argument, Mr. Wilbanks. I give great leeway.”

  Dunlap thanked His Honor, then suddenly turned nasty and ridiculed the “wealthy Bannings” for trying to appear broke. They owned “hundreds of acres of rich farmland” while his clients, the Bells, had nothing. Don’t be fooled by the Bannings and their lawyers.

  He ridiculed Professor Satterfield from Stanford, and asked the jurors who had a better understanding of life in rural Mississippi—“some bow-tied, pointy-headed liberal professor from California, or Dr. Potter from Ole Miss”?

  Dunlap performed beautifully, and when he sat down, Joel felt nauseated.

  John Wilbanks never mentioned liability, but chose to argue the numbers. He tried desperately to lowball everything, but the jurors appeared unmoved.

  During his rebuttal, Burch Dunlap took off the gloves and demanded punitive damages, damages invoked in only the most offensive cases. Damages fitting here because of Pete Banning’s callous disregard for human life and his complete lack of responsibility.

  * * *

  —

  Judge Stratton had presided over many trials, and he had a hunch this jury would not take long. He sent them away at 6:00 p.m. and adjourned court. An hour later, the jury was ready.

  In a unanimous verdict, it found Pete Banning and his estate liable for the death of Dexter Bell, and awarded $50,000 in actual damages and $50,000 in punitive damages. For the second time in less than a year, Burch Dunlap set the record for the largest verdict in the Northern District of Mississippi.

  Chapter 40

  As Joel’s first year of law school wound down, he became more reclusive, even antisocial. The verdict against his father’s estate was well-known in legal circles, not to mention the now infamous execution. The Banning family was in free fall, and Joel suspected there were a lot of whispers behind his back. He envied Stella, a thousand miles away.

  He drove to Whitfield to sit with his mother for a long weekend. First, though, Dr. Hilsabeck wanted to chat, and they strolled the grounds on a glorious spring day, with azaleas and dogwoods blooming. Hilsabeck lit a pipe, clasped his hands behind him, and ambled along slowly, as if heavily burdened.

  “She’s not making a lot of progress,” he said gravely. “She’s been here for two years and I’m not pleased with her condition.”

  “Thanks for admitting that,” Joel replied. “I’ve seen little improvement in the past eight months.”

  “She cooperates to a point; then she shuts down. Something traumatic happened to her, Joel, something she cannot, or will not, confront. From what we know, your mother was a strong woman with an outsized personality with never a hint of mental instability or depression. There were several miscarriages, but they are not uncommon. With each, she withdrew and went through periods of darkness, probably temporary depression, but she always bounced back. The news that your father was missing and presumed dead was horrible, and we’ve discussed this many times. Me, you, Stella, Florry, we’ve covered this. That was in May of 1942. Almost three years passed, and, as you’ve said, the family did the only thing it could do—it survived. But something happened to her, Joel, during that period. Something traumatic, and I simply cannot get it out of her.”

  “Are you suggesting I try?”

  “No. It was something so awful I’m not sure she’ll ever discuss it. And, as long as she keeps it buried, improvement will be most difficult.”

  “Do you think it involved Dexter Bell?”

  “Yes. If not, why would your father do what he did?”

  “That’s the big question. I’ve always assumed it was Bell, but the mystery is, how did my father learn their secrets? Now he’s dead, Bell’s dead, and she’s not talking. Looks like a dead end, Doc.”

  “Indeed it does. The people who work for the family, have you quizzed them?”

  “Not really. Nineva came with the house and doesn’t miss much. She’s also loyal to a fault and would never utter a word. She practically raised me and Stella, so we know her well. She never talks.”

  “Even if she might be able to help us?”

  “Help us in what way?”

  “Perhaps she knows something, saw something, heard something. If she could confide in you and you to me, it could give me the opportunity to confront Liza. It might shock her, and that might be a good thing. She needs to be confronted. We’re in a rut here, Joel, and things need to change.”

  “I guess it’s worth a try. What is there to lose?”

  They walked past an old gentleman slouched in a wheelchair in the shade of an elm tree. He eyed them suspiciously but said nothing. Both nodded and smiled and Hilsabeck said, “Hello, Harry.” But Harry did not respond because Harry had not spoken in ten years. Joel often said hello to Harry as well. Sadly, Joel knew the names of many of building 41’s permanent residents. He prayed fervently that his mother would not become one.

  “There’s something else,” Hilsabeck said. “There’s a new medication called Thorazine that’s slowly making its way onto the market. It’s an antipsychotic drug that’s being used to treat schizophrenia, depression, and a few other disorders. I think Liza is a good candidate for it.”

  “Are you asking for my approval?”

  “No, just wanted you to know. We’ll start it next week.”

  “Any side effects?”

  “So far, the most common one is weight gain, which in her case would be welcome.”

  “Then I say we do it.”

  They walked to the edge of a small lake and found a bench in a shaded, cool spot. They sat down and watched some ducks splatter about. “How often does she talk of going home?” Joel asked.

  Hilsabeck thought for a moment, took
a puff. “Not every day, but it’s certainly on her mind. Liza is too young for us to consider her a permanent resident here, so we treat her as if she’ll one day be healthy enough to go home. She doesn’t dwell on this, but she assumes, as do we, that the day will come. Why do you ask?”

  “Because home might be in trouble. I’ve told you about the lawsuits brought by the family of Dexter Bell. We just lost the first one. We’ll appeal, and appeal again, and we’ll fight to the end. Another lawsuit is looming, and we could lose it too. There could be liens, judgments, injunctions, even a bankruptcy. A lot of legal maneuvering yet to come, but there is a real possibility that when the dust settles, we could lose the land and the farm.”

  “And when might this dust settle?”

  “Hard to say. Not this year, probably not next. But within two years all of the lawsuits and appeals could be over.”

  Hilsabeck tapped his pipe on the edge of the bench and scraped out the burned tobacco. He deftly refilled it with fresh tobacco from a pouch, fired up a match, lit the bowl, and took a long puff. Eventually, he said, “That would be catastrophic for her. She dreams of being home with you and Stella. She talks of working the gardens with Amos, of riding her horses, of putting flowers on your father’s grave, of cooking and canning with Nineva.” Another long puff. “Where would she go?”

  “I have no idea, Doc. We haven’t had that discussion yet. I’m just looking far down the road. We have good lawyers, but so does the family of Dexter Bell. And in addition to good lawyers, they have the facts and the law on their side.”

  “It would be devastating, just devastating. I cannot imagine treating Liza if she knew her home was gone.”

  “Well, just file it away. Meanwhile, we’re brawling in court.”

  * * *

  —

  On a Friday morning when he was supposed to be in Oxford, Joel awoke early in his own bed, hustled to the kitchen and put on the coffee, bathed and dressed while it was percolating, and was waiting at the kitchen table with a fresh cup when Nineva arrived on the dot at 7:00. They exchanged “Good mornings” and Joel said, “Let’s have some coffee, Nineva. We need to talk.”

  “Don’t you want breakfast?” she asked, pulling on an apron.

  “No, I’ll get something later in town. I’m not much for breakfast.”

  “Never was, not even as a little boy. A bite or two of eggs and you’d be off. What’s on your mind?”

  “Fix your coffee.”

  She took her time with heavy cream and heavier sugar, and finally sat, apprehensively, across the table from him. “We need to talk about Liza,” he said. “Her doctor is not happy with her progress down there at Whitfield. There are a lot of secrets in her world, Nineva, little mysteries that don’t add up. Until we know what happened to her, there’s a good chance Liza is never coming home.”

  Nineva was already shaking her head as if she knew nothing.

  “Pete’s gone, Nineva. Liza might be too. There’s a chance her doctor can help her but only if the truth is told. How much time did she spend with Dexter Bell when we thought Dad was dead?”

  She held her cup with fingers from both hands and took a small sip. She set it on the saucer, thought for a second, and said, “He was here a lot. It was no secret. I was always around, so was Amos, even Jupe. Sometimes Mrs. Bell came with him. They would meet in Mista Banning’s study and read the Bible, say a prayer. He never stayed long.”

  “Were they alone?”

  “Sometimes, I guess, but like I say, I was always right here. Nothin’ happened between them, not in this house.”

  “Are you sure, Nineva?”

  “Look, Joel, I don’t know ever’thing. I wasn’t with ’em. You think she fooled around with the preacher?”

  “He’s dead, isn’t he, Nineva? Give me another good reason for Pete killing him. Did they see each other when you weren’t around?”

  “If I wasn’t around how would I know?”

  As always, her logic was pure. “So nothing suspicious? Nothing at all?”

  Nineva grimaced and rubbed her temples as if coaxing something painful from her memory. Softly, she said, “There was one time.”

  “Let’s have it, Nineva,” Joel said, on the verge of a breakthrough.

  “She said she had to go to Memphis, said her mother was in the hospital there and in real bad shape. Said she had cancer. Anyways, she wanted the preacher to go visit with her mother in her last days. Said her mother had drifted away from the church and now that she was at the end she really wanted to talk to a preacher to, you know, get things right with God. And since Liza thought so much of Dexter Bell she wanted him to do the Lord’s work with her mother in Memphis. Liza hated to drive, as you know, and so she told me one day that she and the preacher would leave early the next day, after you and Stella got off to school, and go to Memphis. Just the two of them. And they did. And I didn’t think anything about it. Reverend Bell came in that morning, by hisself, and I fixed him a cup of coffee, and the three of us sat right here and he even said a little prayer asking God for safe travels up there and back, and for His healin’ hand on Liza’s mother. It was real touchin’, as I remember. I thought nothin’ of it. Liza told me not to tell you kids about it because she didn’t want you worryin’ about your grandmother, so I said nothin’. They took off and they were gone all day and came back at dark. Liza said she was carsick and had an upset stomach and went to bed. She didn’t feel good for a few days after that, said she thought she caught somethin’ at the hospital in Memphis.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “You was busy with school.”

  “When was this?”

  “When? I don’t take down notes, Joel.”

  “Okay, how long after we got the news about Dad? A month, six months, a year?”

  “A long time. We heard about Mista Banning, when?”

  “May of 1942.”

  “Right, okay, then it was cool weather; they was pickin’ cotton. At least a year after we got the news.”

  “So the fall of 1943?”

  “I guess. I don’t do well with dates and times.”

  “Well, that’s odd because her mother didn’t die. Grandmother Sweeney is alive and well in Kansas City. Got a letter from her last week.”

  “Right. I asked Liza how her mother was doin’ and all, and she never really wanted to talk about her. Said later that the visit with Reverend Bell must’ve been a good one because the Lord reached down and healed her.”

  “So they spent the day together and Liza came home sick. Did you ever get suspicious about it?”

  “I didn’t think about it.”

  “I doubt that, Nineva. You don’t miss much around here.”

  “I tend to my business.”

  “And everyone else’s too. Where was Jackie Bell that day?”

  “I don’t keep up with Jackie Bell.”

  “But there was no mention of her?”

  “I didn’t ask. They didn’t say.”

  “Well, did you ever look back at that day and think something didn’t add up?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, well, there are a lot of preachers in Memphis and plenty between here and there. Why would Liza’s mother need a preacher from Clanton? She belongs to an Episcopal church in Memphis, one that Stella and I visited a few times before they moved away. Why wouldn’t Liza tell Stella and me that her mother, our grandmother, was real sick in a Memphis hospital? We used to see her from time to time. No one ever told us she had cancer and she damned sure didn’t die from it. This whole story smells bad, Nineva, and you were never suspicious?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Suppose what?”

  “Well, I’ll just tell you. I never understood why it was such a big secret, their trip to Memphis. I remember thinkin’ that if her mother was real
sick, then she ought to take you kids and go visit. But no, she didn’t want you to know about it. That was strange. It was like she and the preacher just wanted to go away for the day, and they needed some reason to feed to me. Yeah, all right, I got suspicious afterward but who was I gonna tell? Amos? I tell him everythin’ anyway and he forgets it all. That man.”

  “Did you tell Pete?”

  “He never asked.”

  “Did you tell Pete?”

  “No. I ain’t never told nobody, other’n Amos.”

  Joel left her at the table and went for a long drive through the back roads of Ford County. His head spun as he tried to put the facts into place. He felt like a private investigator who had just tracked down the first major clue to a mystery that seemed permanently unsolved.

  As confused as he was, though, he was also convinced that Nineva had not told him everything.

  Chapter 41

  In addition to studying for final exams, Joel wrote the briefs and perfected the appeal of the jury’s verdict in federal court. Since stalling was an integral part of their strategy, he and John Wilbanks waited until the last possible day and filed the final brief with the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals on June 1, 1948.

  Two days later, on June 3, Chancellor Abbott Rumbold finally got around to the second lawsuit filed by Jackie Bell, her petition to set aside the allegedly fraudulent conveyance by Pete Banning of his land to his children.

  Burch Dunlap had been demanding a trial for months, and Rumbold’s docket was not that crowded. However, the docket was the sole province of the chancellor, and he had been manipulating it for decades. Rumbold routinely did whatever John Wilbanks wanted him to do, plus he had enormous sympathy for the Banning family. If Wilbanks wanted to delay, then the case was certainly in the right court.

  Dunlap expected to get a strong dose of home cooking. He wanted to take his lumps, get it over with, perfect his record, and appeal to the state supreme court, where the law meant much more than old friendships.