“Probably not, and I’ve been thinking about that since I got this indictment. If that’s their theory, they have to come up with a plausible explanation for no planted gun.”
“And have you come up with anything?”
“I have. Sam Jeffries was in the woods when I shot Felton. That’s why he was the first person who found the body. I think they’re going to argue that I intended to plant the gun on Felton but I couldn’t because I heard Jeffries coming. That’s when I went to Plan B, running to Danni’s house to see if she was okay.”
Tom thought about that statement for a few more minutes.
“That’ll work,” he said finally. “There may be some flaws when we get into the minutiae, but it’s a plausible theory and in this town that may be all they need. Have you formulated a defense to counteract their argument?”
“Somewhat. I haven’t fleshed it out completely yet.”
“Well, let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“I have never taken a death penalty case for money. Henry can testify to that. He got three million from the legislature. I didn’t take a dime. Felton inquired about the claims bill and I told him we could do it. He wanted to do it right away, and he offered me the one-third fee. I told him to give it to Exoneration. He refused, so I let him sign a contingency fee agreement with me, and I planned to give the money to Exoneration.”
“The only problem with this theme so far, Jack, is that it depends entirely on the jury’s believing you. In this town that will be a difficult sell.”
“Then we’ve got to change the venue.”
“We can try but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Continue.”
“I was in the woods behind Danni’s house because I believed he would come after Danni next. The easiest access to her house was through the woods. By the way, Danni also believed he would come for her through the woods, as did Sam Jeffries. That’s why he was there.”
“That part is good but what about the phone calls between you and Felton?”
“He called me after he murdered Kathleen Jeffries. He said he wanted me to forget about the claims bill. I asked him why and he said he couldn’t wait. I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when I found out about Jeffries’s daughter, I got it. That’s when I knew he was going to kill again, and it was going to be either Danni or her daughter, Hannah. Danni put Hannah in Henry’s care so she could come back here and wait for Felton. That’s how sure she was that Felton was coming after her.”
“Let’s stay focused on the phone calls.”
“Okay. Two days before Felton’s death, I remembered I had his phone number so I called it. Somebody answered but wouldn’t speak. I figured it was him so when I saw a man in the woods and couldn’t recognize him because he was so far away, I called the number. He didn’t answer it, but I saw him check his phone. That’s when I knew it was Felton. I went after him and told him to stop. When he turned to shoot me, I fired my gun. I hit him and he fell backward.”
Tom was sitting at the table with his head down, listening intently. When Jack finished speaking, he didn’t move for the longest time. Jack knew he was processing everything in his mind and evaluating it because it was exactly what he would have done.
“The phone calls have the same problem as the agreement, Jack. All the evidence is from you.”
“I know.”
“So we at least agree that we have to try and get a change of venue because the people in this town are not going to be sympathetic toward you.”
“I’m with you totally on that, Tom. Does that mean you’re considering taking the case?”
“Do you want me to?”
It was Jack’s turn to hesitate before answering. “Are you okay with my conditions?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m okay with them, especially the Sam Jeffries thing, but I understand why you feel the way you do. I’ll honor your wishes on that issue, and you will testify, I assure you. Right now you are our entire case. I want you to know, though, that I will revisit the Sam Jeffries thing with you if we find more evidence, but I will follow your lead no matter what. It’s your neck and you’re entitled to stretch it out there for whatever reason you want.”
“Thanks, Tom. Yes, I want you to represent me. You and I think alike and we’ll be a formidable team. Besides, you’re probably the only lawyer who would take my case on the conditions I just laid out.”
“I disagree with you there, Jack. Money moves mountains.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t think Dez Calderon or guys like him would have gone along with my conditions. He would have wanted total control. Speaking of money, we need to talk about that issue now as well.”
“Okay, how much do you want to pay me?” Tom asked.
Jack laughed. “I don’t think it works that way. You’re supposed to quote me a fee and I’m supposed to accept it or reject it or bargain with you.”
“Okay. What’s the going rate for a first-degree-murder case these days?”
“Somebody like Calderon would probably charge five hundred an hour and demand a retainer of two hundred grand or more.”
“Well, I’m not Calderon, Jack. What are the middle-of-the-road guys charging on a flat-fee basis for a run-of-the-mill murder case?”
“In this town, probably around seventy-five grand.”
“I’ll do it for forty-five plus expenses.”
“What are you doing, Tom? I’ve got the money.”
“I know. I just don’t want it to be about the money. I’d do it for nothing but I can’t afford to. I see retirement looming in the near future, although I will hate to stop doing what I love.”
At that moment, Jack knew that this man possessed what he had been striving for all his life, especially these past few years. Jack now took cases for nothing but only because he didn’t need money anymore. Tom Wylie had taken cases for nothing all his life, even when he didn’t have any money to speak of. Thus began one of the strangest negotiations ever between a lawyer and his client.
“I’ll pay you seventy,” Jack said.
“Fifty plus expenses, and that’s my final offer—take it or leave it,” Tom replied.
Jack laughed. “I guess I’m going to have to take it, Tom. You drive a hard bargain.”
Tom laughed with him. “I do, indeed. Now let’s call Henry and your friend the bar owner and start mapping out a strategy.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
It took Henry and Ron all of ten minutes to drive from The Swamp to the condo. The storm had passed, but The Swamp was still empty when they left.
“Once people go back to their caves to get out of the weather, they don’t come out again,” Ron told Henry on the drive over.
Ron was the only one who didn’t know Tom Wylie, so Jack made the introduction when the two men arrived.
“I’ve heard of the legendary Swamp,” Tom said as he shook Ron’s hand.
Ron still couldn’t let the bad day go. He was a businessman to his core.
“Yeah, well, today it should be called The Morgue because it’s a dead zone.”
Tom smiled. “I take it the storm killed your business.”
“They fled like rats from a sinking ship.”
“They’ll be back tomorrow when it clears up. While you have some time, though, Jack and I would like to discuss his case with you and Henry.”
“Are you on board?” Henry asked.
“I am,” Tom replied. “Jack drove a hard bargain, but I wore him down eventually.”
Tom stole a glance at Jack, who was smiling. The four men moved to the dining room table and sat down.
“I still don’t know why I’m here,” Ron said. “I can feed you guys and house you, but that’s about it.”
“Actually, you can be very helpful,” Tom continued. “Jack says you know everything that’s happening in this town. We want to get this case out of Oakville, and the only way we can do that is if we can produce some evidence to show that he can’t get a fair trial here. We can loo
k for editorials and letters to the editor and that kind of stuff, but we need to dig deeper.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Ron said.
“This case is going to heat up real fast. The national press and the foreign press are going to be falling all over each other trying to get stories. The people in this town are going to get caught up in that. They won’t be able to stay out of the way. We believe the public sentiment is going to be overwhelmingly against Jack. Any time you hear about a group scheduling a protest or talking to a reporter, any reporter, we need to know about that so we can get the information and present it to the judge.”
“I can definitely do that,” Ron said. “I thought I’d be hearing things already, but I haven’t. It’s almost like people are being told not to say anything through some underground channel or something.”
“How would that work?” Tom asked.
“This is a small town and it’s run by a small group of people. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. I can tell you who the people are, though, and it’s not the mayor and the city council. It’s the people who get them elected. Sam Jeffries is one of them. You can’t discount Sam’s influence in this community. Ever since his wife was killed ten years ago, he pretty much walks on water. Then you’ve got people like the state attorney, although this fellow Merton is fairly new, and it looks like he’s following Sam’s lead. There’s Art Grumman, the editor of the paper, Jim Bentley who runs the chamber of commerce, the local ministers—people like that who control the money and the flow of information.”
“I’ll bet Jeffries has already met with these people and put the fix in,” Jack said.
Tom agreed. “I think you’re right. And if you are, we’re going to be trying this case right here in Oakville where those same people control the message inside and outside of the courtroom. Still want to leave Sam Jeffries alone?”
“I do. We need to file the motion anyway if only to make a record for appellate purposes,” Jack said.
“I agree but they probably have Judge Holbrook in their pocket as well. Didn’t you say he was very much influenced by public opinion?”
“I did. And he’s probably influenced more by the people we’ve been talking about—the people he sees at the golf course and the country club—than any other group. All of a sudden this case is looking a lot more difficult.
“Last chance, Tom. Do you want out?” Jack asked.
“Not on your life,” Tom replied. “And one way or the other, it will be about your life, Jack.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Tom and Jack were right about the fix being in. There were no editorials or demonstrations of any kind even though the national press and the foreign press were everywhere trying to foment outrage so that they could report on it objectively.
Still, after two weeks of watching and waiting in vain, Tom and Jack managed to prepare a pretty good motion for change of venue.
When Jack had first made an appearance representing Thomas Felton, the Oakville Sun had written some brutal editorials about Jack and his motivations for wanting to represent a serial killer. Numerous letters to the editor had followed, spewing the same vitriol. Not one letter had appeared supporting Jack for taking on the case. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The worst came after Kathleen Jeffries was killed. The editorials were harsh, but the letters to the editor almost uniformly linked Jack and Felton and called for both of their heads—literally.
It was powerful evidence and formed the basis for the motion.
Two days after they filed it, Judge Holbrook set it for hearing along with a status conference.
Tom was staying in a one-bedroom condo right next to Jack’s that Ron also owned.
“We’re paying for this one,” Jack told Ron when he offered the place.
“Sure you are,” Ron said. “I’m going to need you later on in life, Jack. Let me do this and you can pay me down the road.”
Jack had just shaken his head at the time. There was no arguing with Ron.
“What do you make of this?” Tom asked Jack when he received Judge Holbrook’s order.
Jack looked at the order. “I think the judge is sending us a message, Tom. He’s setting the status conference at the time of the hearing to let us know before we get there that he is denying our motion.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Tom said. “This judge is really going to be a problem. He’s also going to want to know our thoughts about a trial date when we get there.”
“You’re right. It’s always been my inclination, if I didn’t have a need to do any further investigation or preparation, to go as soon as possible. The State is always banking on the defendant’s asking for more time and they are never prepared.”
“I agree with you that we should go right away,” Tom said. “But I’ve done some research on this Merton fellow. He’s always prepared. And he’ll want to go right away, too. I’ll bet he has all his disclosures—names and addresses of witnesses and a list of the evidence—with him at the hearing. He’ll hand them to us and tell the judge he’s ready to go anytime.”
“And when do you think anytime will be, Tom?”
“With a specially appointed judge it could be as quick as two weeks if we don’t have any depositions.”
“Do we?”
“I don’t think so. I could take Jeffries’s deposition but it won’t get us anywhere and it will make him more relaxed than I want him to be.”
“So we just tell the judge we’re ready to go?” Jack asked.
“I think we should tell him he can set it three weeks out with the understanding that we may need more time if there’s anything in the discovery Merton gives us that we haven’t seen before.”
“That’s agreeable to me,” Jack said.
The summer after Thomas Felton’s brutal murder spree, Apache County and the City of Oakville built a spacious new court complex in downtown Oakville.
The previous courthouse dated back to the Civil War. The courtrooms were old and hot, the floorboards creaked, and the overhead fans rattled so badly, you thought at any time one of them might take off and power itself right out of the room like a wayward helicopter, or, even worse, land on some poor, unfortunate victim. There were three courtrooms in the old courthouse. The main one was enormous with its own balcony where the black folks often used to stand and watch their kinfolk railroaded, but the other two were very small.
Oakville had grown in population and in criminals, and the old courthouse could no longer handle the volume of traffic coming and going through its doors, so the county commission and the city council pooled their resources and built a new, modern complex with ten courtrooms, all similar in size and shape, all with the same bland gray walls and pine veneer tables, benches, and judges’ dais, so that you could not tell one courtroom from the other. They were small, too, with five or six rows of benches in each to fit the observers who wanted to come and watch a trial. That was usually enough and, in most cases, more than enough. On a normal day, the benches in every courtroom would be empty except for criminals waiting to have their cases called, or loved ones.
The old courthouse was not torn down, however, only because it had become a historic landmark and could not be destroyed. Although in plain sight, it simply became invisible like an old man who had lived out his usefulness to society and stood on the corner of the street every day, confident that his presence would go unnoticed.
Judge Holbrook, being from the north end of the county, didn’t have an office in downtown Oakville, nor a courtroom for that matter. It wasn’t a major problem. There was usually a courtroom empty for hearings, and an office had been located for the judge and his secretary while he was in town. However, the judge was eventually going to be trying Jack Tobin’s murder charge and nobody knew how long the trial was going to last. It would be difficult to tie up one of the other judges’ courtrooms for an indefinite period of time. Besides, none of the new courtrooms were equipped to handle the crowds that were antici
pated for the trial of Jack Tobin.
The hearing on the motion was on a Monday morning in late May. The sweltering heat and humidity of the summer had not yet arrived but even though it was an overcast day, it was still in the eighties and humid. Tom had received a call late Friday afternoon advising him that the hearing was going to be in the main courtroom of the old courthouse.
“What do you think that’s about?” he asked Jack. The two men had been through so many trials that they knew every little change could have some significance.
“I’m not sure,” Jack said. “He’s a visiting judge. Maybe they don’t have a courtroom for him.”
“Maybe. Maybe he’s letting us know this is going to be one of those old-fashioned lynchings with a trial thrown in just to dress things up, like in the old days.”
“Maybe so,” Jack said. “But they can’t get away with things today that they used to be able to get away with in the old days.”
“You’re right, but it won’t stop them from trying. They’ve gotten this far.”
They found a parking spot close to the courthouse, which was unusual since they arrived only minutes before the hearing was scheduled to begin.
They weren’t surprised by the legion of reporters and television cameras. Both men knew this was going to be a media circus—a prominent lawyer on trial for murdering a serial killer. It didn’t get any better than that. However, they were surprised by the small number of people in attendance and the lack of any signs supporting one position or another.
“No wonder we got a good parking spot,” Jack said.
“Let’s hope that’s just the beginning of our good luck,” Tom replied. “Get ready. We’re going to plow through this slew of reporters ahead.”
I’ve been in Tom’s position so many times in my life, Jack thought to himself as they started side by side to push through the crowd of media people shouting questions and snapping pictures. Now it’s my turn to be the client, to rely on my lawyer and the system. God help me.
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