When I counsel people, I tell them forgiveness forgets.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know,” Mike admitted. “And I won’t be so glib to toss it out in the future until I’ve done it myself and can explain it better.”
“What would you say?”
Mike thought while they continued working. He put down the bulb planter.
“That the memory of a wrong isn’t stronger than the grace to forgive and go on.”
Peg smiled. “That would make a good sermon.”
SUNDAY MORNING ARRIVED. MIKE ENTERED THE PULPIT AREA. To his delight, Sam and Muriel Miller had returned.
The topic of forgiveness wasn’t in Mike’s notes, but he mentioned it a few times with Peg in his line of sight. The radiant look on her face caused him to smile. The power of forgiveness he expressed to the congregation welled up in his own heart.
After the service, the last two people in the narthex were Sam and Muriel.
“Peg showed me the letter you sent her,” Mike said as he shook Sam’s hand. “Thanks.”
Sam smiled. “Papa holds the whole world in His hands, doesn’t He?”
“And I’m going to stick by you,” Mike replied. “Don’t worry any more about it.”
“Yep. I knew you would help.” Sam patted Muriel’s hand. “She wasn’t so sure until Peg came by the house. Then all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.”
Mike followed Sam and Muriel out the front door of the church. Peg and Bobby Lambert were talking in the parking lot near Bobby’s car.
Mike went over to them.
“Do you have a minute?” Bobby asked.
“Sure.”
“It’s about the Miller case,” Bobby added then stopped.
“Is that my cue to find something appropriate for the minister’s wife to do?” Peg asked. “I’ll look for someone who needs a tuna casserole this week and set up a time to deliver it.”
“Go easy on me, Peg,” Bobby said. “Why don’t you catch up with Elizabeth? She’s getting the kids from the nursery. I think she brought you a card congratulating you on your pregnancy.”
Peg departed with a smile. Bobby shook his head and turned to Mike.
“How do you handle her tongue? It’s sharper than a razor.”
“She reserves her soft side for me. What did you want to tell me?”
“Have you found anyone to take the Miller case?”
“No one has come forward.”
“Your client saw Greg Freeman in court the other day. For a young lawyer, he handled himself well. Miller should be glad Freeman is interested in taking him on.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Mike said bluntly. “Sam has made up his mind that I’m going to be his lawyer, and I’m on board. I’ve begun my investigation.”
“But Mr. Forrest—”
“Is a man I greatly respect, but he isn’t my boss. According to him, I shouldn’t even talk about the case with you.”
“What?” Bobby replied with a surprised look on his face.
Mike told him about the letter. Bobby swore softly then immediately apologized.
“He’s been bugging me about your involvement in the deal all week,” Bobby said, “but I had no idea he’d ordered you to stay off the premises.”
“Or talk to anyone from the firm.”
“He can’t do that.”
Mike shrugged. “It removed any question I might have about how strongly he disagrees with what I’m doing, and any hope of cooperation from the bank went out the window, too.”
“What have you found out on your own?”
Mike placed his hand on the top of Bobby’s new car. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I should discuss details of the case with you. We’re not law partners anymore.”
Bobby looked away for a second before responding. “From now on, my interest will be as an elder of this church, not a lawyer.”
“That’s right.”
Bobby looked Mike directly in the eyes. “And as an elder, I urge you to find someone else to help Mr. Miller. I went to bat for you before the session, but our approval was contingent on you taking steps to disengage from representation as soon as possible. If you don’t get out soon, we’ll have to bring it up for discussion.”
“I understand. All I ask is notice. Ecclesiastical due process, you know.”
“Mike, this isn’t a joke. Consider this conversation your notice.”
Mike set his jaw. “Okay, but I think I can explain to the satisfaction of a majority of the session why I believe I should remain involved.”
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, MIKE ARRIVED A FEW MINUTES EARLY TO Judge Coberg’s chambers. The judge’s secretary, a middle-aged woman Mike didn’t recognize, phoned the DA’s office.
“Tell Mr. West and Ms. Hall that Mr. Andrews is here,” she said. “The judge wants to get started as soon as possible.”
Mike waited for the prosecutors to arrive. When Ken West walked in, he shook Mike’s hand as vigorously as he had at election time. They went into the judge’s office. Melissa Hall followed her boss but didn’t come out from his shadow. Mike stepped to the side and greeted her.
Judge Coberg’s chambers contained personal items collected during his long career. Along with the usual pictures of politicians and other judges, a corner was devoted to baseball memorabilia. The judge only collected items from before the 1960s. It had been several years since Mike had seen the baseball collection, and he noticed a number 9 Boston Red Sox jersey hanging behind a glass frame.
“Who wore it?” he asked the judge, pointing to the frame.
“Ted Williams. My wife bought it for me a couple of years ago.”
On the front corner of the judge’s desk, Mike saw one of the judge’s trial notebooks containing his personal analyses of the decisions by the appellate courts. Many times during a trial or a motion hearing, Mike had seen the judge reach for one of his notebooks, flip to a handwritten notation, and issue a ruling from which he wouldn’t retreat.
There were three chairs positioned in front of the judge’s desk.
“Ken,” the judge said, “do you remember the Debary case? You tried it.”
“How long ago and what was the charge?”
“Eighteen years ago, an assault and battery by a stepfather against his six-year-old daughter.”
“Yes, sir. The little girl suffered a broken arm when the man hit her. A lawyer came all the way from Charlotte to defend it and went back with his tail between his legs.”
“As he should have. During a pretrial hearing, I asked if any neighbors were going to testify.”
“I don’t recall that coming up.”
“Well, it did. And I suggested that someone should interview a man named Hopkins who had moved to Missouri after the charges were filed. I even mentioned the town where Mr. Hopkins lived. The defense lawyer wanted to object but didn’t know what to say. After all, it’s the duty of the Court to determine the truth. When the case came to trial, the little girl was unable to testify, but the Hopkins fellow saw exactly what happened.”
“Yes, sir. It’s coming back to me.”
The judge sat back in his chair. “Sam Miller wrote me a letter about the Debary case. He’d read about the charges in the paper, told me the name and address of Mr. Hopkins, and claimed Hopkins was an eyewitness.”
“What was Miller’s connection?” West asked.
Mike wasn’t surprised by the judge’s answer.
“None. He didn’t know anyone. He claimed he got the information in a dream and wrote it down.”
West was silent for a moment before he spoke. Mike was almost surprised Ken West hadn’t received a letter from Sam. The DA’s ego would have been wounded if he realized he’d not been included in the group with the president of the United States, Judge Coberg, Jack Hatcher, and Peg Andrews.
West spoke.
“That’s odd, but it could have been a way for Miller to tell what he knew without admitting personal knowledge.”
“Did he give you any information about the charges against him in this case?” West asked sharply.
“No,” the judge responded dryly. “If that had happened, I would already have recused myself, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s cut my grass a few times, and I buy vegetables from him in the summer, but I have no personal relationship with him. However, I believe the unique aspect of some of our previous interaction should be disclosed.”
West glanced at Melissa Hall. “What do you think? You’re the one who is going to try this case.”
Hall turned toward Mike. “Are you going to waive a jury trial?”
“I’m considering all options,” he replied.
Hall faced the judge. “Your Honor, if Mr. Andrews requests a bench trial, I would ask you to recuse yourself; however, if a jury will determine the facts and credibility of the witnesses, I have no objection to your continued involvement.”
“How about you, Mr. West?” the judge asked. “I’d like to hear from you, too.”
West grunted. “Miller’s crystal ball must have gotten a bit cloudy if he thought he could get away with embezzling a hundred thousand dollars from a church. However, just because he claims to be psychic doesn’t mean you can’t preside in the case. I agree with Ms. Hall, and as a safeguard, I would ask Mr. Andrews to instruct his client not to attempt to contact the Court about his case or any other matter while the charges are pending.”
“That’s appropriate,” Mike responded.
“Does your client object to me presiding in the case?” the judge asked Mike.
“I haven’t asked him,” Mike answered.
“Do so. Then decide whether you want a jury trial and notify Ms. Hall and me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Mr. Andrews has filed several motions. Any need to have a court reporter present to record testimony for or against his requests?”
“No, sir,” Hall said. “We have no objection to the standard pretrial disclosure motions and have agreed to open our file to Mr. Andrews so he can copy any documents he wants an expert to examine.”
“When is that going to happen?” the judge asked.
“Today, if possible,” Mike replied.
Hall nodded. “That’s agreeable. We’ll provide everything else he wants by tomorrow. The case will be on the trial calendar in a few weeks.”
“That’s rushing it, don’t you think?” Mike responded quickly.
“Delay for the sake of delay isn’t an option.”
“But I won’t know what else I need until you furnish answers to my requests.”
“That’s enough, counselors,” the judge barked. “Mr. Andrews, if you want a continuance, file a motion.”
THE LAWYERS LEFT THE JUDGE’S CHAMBERS, AND MIKE FOLLOWED the prosecuting attorneys downstairs to their office. The DA’s office controlled the appearance of cases on the criminal docket, and there wasn’t much Mike could do to delay the Miller case.
“I’ll have the file pulled, and you can review it in our conference room,” Hall said.
Mike went into the small, plainly furnished room and sat at the old conference table. The prosecutors had no clients to impress with fancy surroundings. Mike tapped his fingers against the scratched wooden surface of the table. On several occasions, he’d been ushered into the room and seen it covered with evidence: sawed-off shotguns, burglary tools, and stacks of documents needed to prove larceny.
A secretary brought him the file. Mike quickly flipped past copies of the checks signed by Jesse, the bank records for Sam’s account, and the bill of indictment charging Sam with the crime. Mike wanted to see the signed statement taken from Sam by Detective Perkins. It was the last item in the file.
I, Sam Miller, make this statement of my own free will after having been told of my right to remain silent and have an attorney present to represent me. During the time I served as temporary pastor of the Craig Valley Gospel Tabernacle, money was illegally taken from the church building fund and put in my bank account. I did not have the right to sign checks for the church or transfer church money into my account.
—Sam Miller
Mike frowned. Perkins was a crafty interrogator who had transformed a nonincriminating statement into a document that could be used against Sam at trial. On its face, Sam’s statement admitted nothing criminal, but it could still be valuable to the prosecution. Sam accepted as true the detective’s conclusion that money had been taken illegally from the church building fund. That mistake allowed Perkins to construct a statement removing every legitimate reason Sam might have for church money ending up in his bank account.
At trial, the detective would read the statement and make it sound like a wholesale admission of guilt obtained after a grueling interrogation. Mike could point out the precise language of the statement, but that would result in courtroom sparring with the detective, which always had a negative impact on one or two jurors who believed law enforcement officers were exempt from original sin. It was a thin file, a simple charge, the perfect case for Melissa Hall to cut her prosecutorial teeth.
Mike took the file to the front desk and asked for copies. Hall came to the door of the reception area.
“Finished?” she asked.
“Yes, waiting for copies. Why the rush?”
“This case has been pending for three months. Ken wants it on the docket, and I have no reason to argue with him.”
“Is the bank pushing for a speedy trial?”
“I have work to do.”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
Hall looked at her watch. “A few. I’ll be in my office.”
The secretary handed Mike the documents. He cross-checked them with the ones in the file to make sure everything was included. As he did, he compared Sam’s signature at the bottom of the statement with the endorsement on the reverse of the two checks. It looked the same. There was an unusual extra loop at the bottom of the S that appeared in all three signatures. Mike put the copies in his briefcase.
The door to Hall’s office was open, and she was on the phone. Mike knocked on the door frame. She motioned for him to come in and sit down.
“That’s not going to be a problem,” she said into the receiver. “Get back to me on Monday.”
She hung up the phone.
“Any surprises?” she asked Mike.
“Not really.”
“What did you think of the statement taken by Detective Perkins?”
“It is what it is.”
Hall smiled slightly. “Mr. Andrews, I’m new at the legal business, but I made it through law school and passed the bar exam. There’s no criminal admission in your client’s statement; however, we believe the bank records are enough to convict Mr. Miller under the embezzlement statute. Ken talked to me about the case while you were reviewing the file, and I’d like to make an offer.”
“What is it?”
“Because all the money was recovered, I can offer six months probation on the lesser included misdemeanor of illegally lending the money of a charitable organization without its consent. No jail time. No fine.”
It was a good offer. If Sam had admitted committing the crime, Mike would have recommended it without reservation. Even so, an opportunity to spare Sam the dangers of prison was tempting.
“I’ll discuss it with him.”
“We’ll leave it open for ten days. After that, it’s withdrawn, and we go to trial.”
Mike studied the young DA’s face for a moment.
“What did you think of the judge’s revelation regarding his prior contact with Miller?”
“It was the appropriate thing to do, so we can decide whether to file a motion for recusal.”
>
“No, I mean the information my client has given the judge over the years. What do you think about that?”
“I have a personal opinion.”
“What is it? Do you believe that sort of thing is real?”
Hall hesitated. “My grandmother had dreams in which she saw things before they happened.”
“And you believed in her gift?”
“Yes.”
Hall turned in her chair, picked up a photograph on a small table behind her desk, and handed it to Mike. A large number of people that included little children, teenagers, and adults surrounded an old woman sitting in a chair. A small white church building, not unlike the old sanctuary at Little Creek, could be seen in the background.
“My grandmother is in the center of the picture, and I’m standing beside her,” Hall continued. “It was her ninetieth birthday. She lived two more years. Now, she’s in heaven.”
All the people in the photo were plainly dressed. Hall’s grandmother wore a print dress and old-fashioned black shoes. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hand and a sweet smile on her face. A younger, gangly version of Melissa Hall stood behind the old woman’s right shoulder. Mike returned the snapshot.
Hall stared at the picture that remained in her hand for a few seconds before looking up. “I’m no saint, either, but listening to your client talk about the Lord and call Him ‘Papa’ made me think about my grandmother. She didn’t use that term, but it was the same kind of familiarity. I asked Mr. West to let me offer you a favorable plea bargain.”
“And I appreciate it. Sam is odd, but all he wants to do is help other people. The more I’ve been around him, the less I believe he tried to steal money from the Craig Valley church.”
“I disagree. My grandmother said spiritual people don’t always have the character to match the gift.”
“But what if Miller isn’t guilty?”
Hall’s face hardened. “Then you’d better convince Ken and me within the next ten days. After that, it’s up to a judge or jury.”
Sixteen
MIKE LEFT THE COURTHOUSE AND CALLED THE MILLER HOME. Muriel answered.
“Where is Sam this afternoon?” he asked.
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