The Sacrifice

by Robert Whitlow

  “Have you talked to your parents yet?” Kay asked.

  “No, I spent the afternoon with a friend before coming here.”

  “You need to discuss it with them. I’m not sure what your legal obligation is in this type of situation. You may want advice from a lawyer.”

  “But not Mr. Ellis?”

  Kay paused. “No, not him.”

  Frank and Janie stopped at a fast-food restaurant for French fries and a drink.

  When they sat down with their food, Janie said, “I have some good news. My father called last night. He may come for a visit in a few weeks.”

  “Has he promised before and not shown up?” Frank asked.

  “Yes,” Janie admitted. “Last Christmas.”

  “I rest my case. You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”

  Janie nibbled a fry. “How do you think I should feel?”

  “Why ask me? I don’t feel anything.”

  “But—” Janie stopped. “I mean, you have to feel something when your parents are going through a divorce.”

  Frank looked straight in Janie’s eyes. “No, I don’t.”

  27

  Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.

  PROVERBS 13:12 (RSV)

  Scott greeted Nicky and plopped down in his chair to watch TV. He flipped through the channels, but the canned jokes on a sitcom couldn’t keep his attention or make him smile. At a commercial break, he went into the kitchen and took out Nicky’s leash. At the sight of the leash, the little dog shot around the corner to the front door and began jumping up and down with excitement. Scott knelt on the floor, caught Nicky in midhop, and snapped the leash onto the dog’s collar.

  Scott rarely took Nicky out for a walk after dark. Every shadow was a threat, and Nicky spent most of his time darting into the darkness to bark at unseen monsters, then scampering back to safety at his master’s side.

  Scott pushed the button on the leash and let Nicky run out to the end of the line. The dog strained for a couple of seconds trying to pry another inch of freedom before yielding to the restraint. Scott set an easy pace; he was walking for contemplation, not exercise. They soon entered one of the pools of blackness that Nicky found both fascinating and terrifying.

  In the darkness, Scott thought about Kay. He was trying to be careful, but Perry Dixon’s lighthearted encouragement to consider the possibilities of a relationship with the teacher struck close to home. Every time he was around her it was harder to avoid letting his mind wander unhindered into the possibilities. He didn’t want to get on a roller coaster of emotions. He didn’t want to make a mistake. Whether feelings for him were stirring in her was as hidden as the surrounding darkness.

  Scott walked into the glow from a streetlight. A few hardy moths that had not yet succumbed to the cooling fall temperatures flew crazily back and forth. Nicky perked up and marched confidently toward the gray area that separated the light from the night. A rumble rising in his throat, the little dog strained forward to challenge the shadows. All his senses were on high alert. The decision to hold him close or let him go was in Scott’s hand. He pressed the button and Nicky bounded forward into the unknown. Scott followed.

  When Kay got home, she was still thinking about her conversation with Alisha. The message light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed it, and Jake’s voice came into the room.

  “Hey. I’m sorry about the other night. I have something I need to talk to you about. Don’t call me; I’ll keep trying to get in touch with you. Save your pennies. Bye.”

  She listened for a few seconds to the silence at the end of the message. Married couples develop familiar sayings that communicate more than the ordinary meaning of the words used. Save your pennies. As teachers, Jake and Kay had never had a lot of money, and the phrase about pennies had become their shorthand way of letting each other know that they were living life together. Together, their pennies would be enough to provide what they needed.

  The following day, Scott spent the morning working on other files. Until Lester’s trial was over, his life would be divided into two parts: State v. Garrison and everything else. The tedium of reviewing a lease-purchase agreement for one of Mr. Jackson’s business clients made him glad for the prospect of a day in court. He was walking out the back door to lunch when he met Mr. Humphrey coming into the building.

  “Are we still on the schedule for this afternoon?” the older lawyer asked.

  “Yes, sir. Lester Garrison should be here at four o’clock.”

  “I was sitting in court all morning waiting for a hearing that took ten minutes,” Mr. Humphrey said. “I used the time to write out a few questions. I’m not sure about the facts, but it will give me a place to start.”

  “I’ve prepared some cross-examination questions for you, and I know you’ll spot things when you listen to him on direct.”

  “How are you feeling about the case?” the older lawyer asked.

  “I think I should win, and I’m afraid that I won’t.”

  Mr. Humphrey nodded. “That’s a healthy perspective. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

  Lester was scheduled to arrive at Scott’s office at 3:30 P.M. At 3:45, Mr. Humphrey buzzed Scott.

  “Is he here yet?” the older lawyer asked.

  “No, sir. I’m sure he knows about the appointment.”

  “Let me know. I don’t have anything else on my calendar for the rest of the day.”

  When fifteen minutes more passed, Scott called Thelma Garrison to find out if Lester had come home from school before leaving for the appointment. No answer. Then the thought crossed Scott’s mind that Lester might have decided to skip town. He hadn’t been in school. He had a truck. His father probably had contacts all over the country where the boy could hide out. Scott decided to tell Mr. Humphrey his suspicions and ask him what to do when the phone buzzed. It was the receptionist.

  “Lester Garrison is here for his appointment.”

  “Send him into the small conference room.”

  Carrying the file that was growing thicker by the day, Scott went downstairs to Mr. Humphrey’s office. The older lawyer was writing on a legal pad with his legs propped up on the corner of the desk.

  “He’s here.”

  They walked into the conference room. Lester was standing with his back to the door looking at the painting of General Hoke. When he turned around, Scott stopped in his tracks.

  “What happened to you?”

  Lester grimaced. “I ran into a door.”

  Lester’s face was splotchy with bruises, and he had a long cut over his left eye. The damage was as bad as the harm from the fight at the youth detention center. The young man had either received a thorough beating or taken a quick trip through the windshield of his truck.

  “Sit down and tell us,” Scott urged.

  Lester slouched down. “There’s nothing anybody is going to do about it. The police want to send me to jail for something I didn’t do, but I doubt they’ll prosecute the guys who did this to me.”

  “Who was it?” Scott asked.

  “I had some words in the parking lot on Tuesday morning with a punk who smarted off to me, so we went into the woods behind the football stadium to settle it. I got in a few good licks, then one of his friends showed up and hit me in the head with a tree limb.”

  “Did you report it to the principal’s office?”

  “This wasn’t a fight on the playground in first grade,” Lester sneered. “If the principal had found out, I’m sure I’d be sitting in a cell at the youth detention center.”

  “Probably,” Scott agreed. At least Lester didn’t totally ignore the possible consequences of his actions. “What caused the argument?”

  “The first guy started telling me what was going to happen to me in jail. I didn’t want to listen to it. After the fight I went home and my grandmother called the office and told them I was sick.”

  “Where is your father?”
Mr. Humphrey asked.

  “On the road. He’ll be back this weekend.”

  Scott turned to Leland Humphrey. “Can he go to court looking like this?”

  “What would be your argument for a continuance?” the older lawyer asked. “He can communicate; he admits starting the fight.”

  “No, the other guy smarted off to me, first,” Lester interrupted.

  “Who landed the first blow?” Mr. Humphrey asked.

  “I did. And the second, too. If the other guy hadn’t showed up, I’d have whipped him.”

  Mr. Humphrey raised his left eyebrow and looked at Scott.

  “Okay,” Scott said. “A continuance is unlikely. Let’s get started.”

  Scott explained his basic trial strategy to Lester, who listened closely and asked a few questions. Lester’s answers were passable.

  “Do you see where I’m going with these questions?” Scott asked.

  “Yeah. I like the part about my grandmother. She’s sick all the time, and the jury won’t find me guilty if it meant she would be left alone. She could die if I wasn’t there to take care of her. Are you going to use her as a witness?”

  “I’ve thought about that,” Scott said. “Does she know what you were doing on the day of the shooting?”

  “I don’t remember what I told her. Usually, I just leave. She can hear the door close and knows the sound of my truck.”

  “Then I’m not sure her testimony would add anything to the case. She can’t see anything, so she couldn’t describe your clothing. Was your father in town?”

  Lester hesitated. “Uh, yeah. He picked me up at the jail.”

  “What had he been doing that day?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably drinking beer at Vernon’s Tavern. That’s where he hangs out.”

  “On Sunday?” Scott asked.

  Lester shifted in his seat. “Oh, that’s right. It’s closed on Sunday.”

  Scott waited. “Go ahead. Where was your father?”

  “Uh, you’ll have to talk to him.”

  “You haven’t talked about it?”

  “Why should I?” Lester asked sharply. “I’m the one who got caught, not him.”

  “You got caught?” Scott asked. “Caught doing what?”

  Lester’s face flushed. “Don’t try to trick me. I was walking down the creekbank minding my own business when the cops showed up. I was so scared that I said some crazy things, and they threw me in the back of the patrol car.”

  “Remember, this is trial practice. You have to choose your words carefully or the D.A. will convict you from your own mouth. Let’s start from the beginning.”

  Scott had a long list of questions that brought out Lester’s life story in the most sympathetic way possible. He knew his client wasn’t the kind of young man the women on the jury would want to take home to meet their daughters, but he hoped to awaken compassion based on his mother’s abandonment. They moved to the day of the arrest.

  “I’d been walking up the creek looking for some good places to fish,” Lester said. “I was going back to the truck to get my fishing rod when I was arrested.”

  Scott turned to Mr. Humphrey. “Do you want to ask some questions?”

  “Not yet, but I’d like to make a comment about how to testify. Lester, think before you answer. You’re giving an answer before Scott has stopped talking. There’s nothing wrong with waiting a second or two before you respond. That’s especially important when you’re being cross-examined.”

  “Okay.”

  Scott continued. “Did you walk down the creek all the way to the Hall’s Chapel Church?”

  “I avoid that church. I don’t want to be around those people.”

  Mr. Humphrey held up his hand. “Answer the question; don’t use it as a chance to let the jury know how prejudiced you are. This is not a political trial involving your racial ideology!”

  “Huh?” Lester’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I don’t think separation of the races is prejudice. There are black people who believe the same way. It makes sense—”

  “Mr. Humphrey is right,” Scott interrupted. “Don’t look for chances to give speeches. How close did you get to the church?”

  “I never saw it.”

  “Did you hear anyone yelling?”

  “No.”

  “Did you hear any gunshots?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see anyone else on the creekbank?”

  “Only the police.”

  “Why would the deputies say you were running along the creekbank?”

  “I wasn’t running. I’m a fast walker.”

  “Were you trying to avoid them?”

  “I didn’t want them to hassle me. I don’t trust the cops. After what’s happened, I trust them less.”

  Mr. Humphrey’s right eyebrow shot up and he spoke up. “Leave the argument about the police to Scott. It will sound better coming from him.”

  “Were you trying to avoid them?” Scott continued.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Be sure you say ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘no, ma’am’ to the D.A.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lester said, emphasizing the “sir.”

  “But not like she’s a Marine Corps drill instructor. Did you throw a gun into the stream when you saw the police?”

  “No. The only thing I threw in the water was a rock.”

  “Why would you do that just before the police confronted you?”

  “I’d been throwing rocks up and down the stream. I was just messing around.”

  “Do you own a gun?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you ever owned a gun?”

  “No. I’m seventeen years old. I couldn’t buy a gun if I wanted to.”

  “Did you see anybody from the church that day?”

  “No.”

  “Did you yell anything at them from the other side of the creekbank?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you fire any shots in the water during the baptism?”

  “How could I do that if I wasn’t anywhere near them?” Lester asked.

  “Answer the question,” Scott responded. “Take your time because the jury will be paying attention. It’s your time to let them know how sincere, honest, and innocent you are.”

  Lester took a breath and spoke slowly, “I did not fire any shots at anyone. I’m sorry it happened, and whoever did it should be punished because it was wrong. But these charges against me are a mistake. I’m innocent.”

  Scott looked at Mr. Humphrey who nodded. “Good answer,” the older lawyer said. “That’s the way to do it.”

  They continued for another hour. Mr. Humphrey goaded Lester during cross-examination, but instead of blowing up, the young man paused and gave a calm answer.

  “We’ll get together again Friday afternoon at three-thirty,” Scott said. “Here is a list of the people in the jury pool. Read it over and make a note beside the name of anyone you know. I’d like your father to look at it, too.”

  “He’ll be home Saturday.”

  “Just so we have the information by Monday morning when the jurors arrive.”

  After Lester left, Scott and Mr. Humphrey went into the older lawyer’s office. Leland tore out three pages from his legal pad and handed them to Scott.

  “Here are some suggestions I jotted down during your questioning.” The older lawyer rubbed his eyebrows. “After he started taking our advice, he didn’t do too badly. He’s an intelligent young man.”

  Scott nodded. “I know. How can he be so ignorant?”

  28

  There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man.

  POLYBIUS

  The receptionist buzzed Scott and told him there was a hand-delivered letter for him from the D.A.’s office. Correspondence from the other side of a case on the eve of trial is never good news. He quickly ripped open the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper. It was a supplemen
tal list of witnesses who might be called by the prosecution in the case: a police officer, a detective, and Alisha Mason. Scott’s eyes stopped when he saw the student’s name. He had intended to talk to her at the church, but he’d focused on the adults, and she left before Scott finished eating lunch. Fortunately, he could talk to her after mock trial practice that night.

  He called Lynn Davenport in the slim hope the D.A. might provide information about the additional police officers. When she answered the phone, Scott didn’t make a vain effort at morning pleasantries.

  “I received the names of your additional witnesses. What are they going to say?”

  “You’ll need to ask them,” she said curtly.

  Scott bit his lower lip. “Did you tell them to cooperate with me?”

  “I didn’t tell them not to. That’s up to them.”

  Scott gave up. “Okay.”

  “One other thing,” she said before he could hang up. “I have another plea offer for your client.”

  “I don’t think he’s interested.”

  “I don’t care if he takes it or not, but we’ve talked it over with the people from the church, and if he pleads guilty to intent to inflict bodily harm, we’ll recommend a six-month boot-camp program and three years probation.”

  Scott sat up straighter in his chair. “What about the other charges?”

  “I’ll drop them.”

  “And the conspiracy charge?”

  “It will go away.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  The D.A. gave a short laugh. “It’s not my heart. It’s the docket. There is a kidnapping case we’d like to move to the head of the calendar. It will take a full week to try it.”

  Scott had read about the kidnapping case in the paper. Four defendants were accused of transporting illegal aliens from Mexico and working them without pay on a farm outside of town. The trial proceedings would have to be translated into Spanish, and everything would take at least twice as long.

  “I’ll talk to Garrison,” Scott said.

  “Let me know by Friday at three o’clock.”

  “He’s coming in at three-thirty.”