by Ace Collins
The reporter quickly matched the director’s leisurely pace. “Emily’s fine She’s beaten the cancer. The kids are in college.” Brisco glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t see anyone close.”
Hillman nodded. “What I’ve got is a blockbuster that will run nationally. No one will have any advance on this but you.”
“Sounds great. Tell me more.”
Hillman pointed to a spot just to their right. “Let’s sit over on that bench under the tree.”
When both men were comfortable, Hillman said, “Do you remember Omar Saddam Jones?”
“Sure, the other 9/11 terrorist. I tagged him the ‘9/10 Terrorist,’ but it didn’t stick. He’ll be executed in a few weeks. But that story has run its course. Except for his last day on earth, the yarn has no legs. I hope you didn’t run me up here to talk about that.”
“In a way I did. Jones has new representation. Trying for an appeal.”
“Still not much of a story,” Brisco countered. “Young suits are always jumping on a doomed train’s last stop to gain publicity. No reason to give them what they crave.”
“This one’s different. The new legal guru is Kent McGee. I think that’s a horse you can ride.”
“Wow! “ Brisco was obviously surprised. “McGee’s taking a huge risk with that one. That’s taking on all those who consider themselves patriots.”
“It gets better. Remember Lije Evans? His wife was murdered and he was shot. He’s on the team.”
“Why? Evans is a legal lightweight. Why would he do something this stupid? Everyone feels sorry for him now. When this comes to light, he’ll be the most hated man in the Ozarks.”
Hillman maintained his mask. To make this work, he had to appear sympathetic. “I think his wife’s unsolved murder has pushed Evans over the edge. Maybe he and McGee have become pawns of the ACLU or some other far-left group.”
“They’ll both get hung for this. This is a career killer.”
Hillman looked down and shook his head. This was going very well indeed. The reporter’s shock was now ready to be re-molded into a crusade. With his flair for language, Brisco’s words should form a noose that would easily slip around the necks of both McGee and Evans. And they wouldn’t see it coming. “Are you in?” the head of the ABI asked.
“Who’s my source? I assume it’s not you.”
“No, call death row in Livingston, Texas, the Polunsky Unit, and ask to speak with the warden. James Ray Burgess will give you confirmation and the dates the legal team visited Jones. Don’t mention my name. I’m not to be connected in any way.”
“Understood.” There was an edge to Brisco’s tone as he added, “I’ll make the call today, get the story out this evening.” His eyes locked on the director. “So why do you hate these two guys?”
He’d overplayed his hand. Now he had to regain some footing to make sure Brisco didn’t dig into his motives. It was time to trot out the flag. “Harlan, I’ve got nothing against either man. But I’m an American. I can’t stand to see anyone going against our system of government, our ideals, and abuse our laws just to coddle the guilty. What these two are trying to do is get a convicted terrorist set free. We all know he’s guilty. In my view, that’s an act of treason.”
The reporter nodded as the director rose from his seat.
“Just do your job,” Hillman said. “I’ll bet you’ll get back in the spotlight. Might even land a consulting gig with one of those cable news outlets. I’ve got a meeting with the governor. I’ll read your story in tomorrow’s paper.”
He smiled as he walked toward the capitol. He’d played it perfectly. The reporter had bought it all. The outrage created by the story would keep McGee and Evans busy for a long time. And with them occupied elsewhere, he’d finally get what he needed.
44
LIJE EVANS REALIZED SOMETHING WAS WRONG SOON after he parked his car in front of his office. He waved to Julie Rosco, the manager of the Dollar Store, but she frowned and turned her back on him. Stepping up on the walk outside his office, he said good morning to Frank Stratton as he was unlocking the door to his feed store. Stratton glanced up, shook his head, and said nothing. Stratton had once coached Lije in Little League. He’d been like an uncle to him. Where was the smile, the always present “How’s it goin’?”
Lije walked into his law office and was greeted by the cacophony of two phone lines ringing. Janie was already on the third line. Curtis and Jameson scrambled to catch the others.
“Kind of cool outside,” Lije said. If anyone noted his sarcastic tone, they didn’t show it. They seemed not even to notice him. He watched the whirlwind of activity that made the room appear more like a 1–800 call center than his quiet office. Was this about the bombing?
“Bit frosty in here too,” Janie said, putting a phone down.
“You see the paper?” Curtis asked while placing her line on hold.
“No,” Lije admitted. “Didn’t open mine this morning.”
“Then look at the one on the counter,” the investigator suggested. “We’ve got a real problem.”
Lije picked up the Gazette and was hit by a headline proclaiming he and McGee were representing the nation’s best-known terrorist. The story was by Harlan Brisco, who portrayed them as unpatriotic and anti-American. The United Press Service writer was putting them in bed with Osama bin Laden.
“Didn’t see this coming,” Lije said, sinking into a chair. “Guess I should’ve. Any idea how Brisco found out we were involved in the Jones case?”
“Not from McGee,” Janie said. “He was just as blindsided as we were. By the way, we’ve gotten requests for interviews from two dozen reporters. Some are big-time national names. Four TV news shows want you as a guest. The View’s called twice and a host of tabloid shows are on their way to ambush you.”
Lije grinned. In a perverse way this was kind of funny. “After I ignore those folks, anything else on my plate?”
His assistant checked her Braille notes. “A couple of other things. McGee needs to talk to you. And so far we have gotten twenty-seven death threats.”
“Twenty-eight,” Jameson called from across the room.
“I stand corrected,” Janie replied.
“Any of them serious?”
“The guy who identified himself as the Grand Wizard of the KKK sounded sincere,” Janie noted. “One man called in ranting, but when I finished with him he asked me out. I turned him down. Sounded too old.”
“Great,” Lije said. “I’ll call Kent. Shut down the phone system and forward all calls to our answering service. Otherwise we’ll never get any work done.”
Just then a loud thud rattled the front window.
“What was that?” Jameson asked.
Curtis walked to the front of the reception area. “An egg. I haven’t been egged since my sophomore year in college. Take my word, eggs are far better than bombs.”
“Might be best to stay away from the windows,” Lije observed. “Wouldn’t hurt to lock the door too.”
Back in his office, he pulled out his cell and dialed McGee’s private line. “How crazy is it at your office?”
“It’s not crazy,” McGee said, “it’s bizarre. We’ve even had rocks tossed through windows.”
“Just eggs here. Did you see this coming?”
“Should have. But I didn’t think anyone would know we were on the case. Not until after I got the evidence to prove Jones was framed. We have nothing I can give the press now—that is, without alerting the one person I need to find—so I’m going to have to take some abuse for a while.”
“Beals found something?”
“Sure did. I now know how and why this thing was done. What I don’t have is proof, so I can’t start pushing the case through the courts. Ivy’s working on it, but finding the man who actually pulled the trigger in time to save Jones is a long shot. And this carnival outside my door is getting in the way.” McGee took a deep breath. “I’m about to hold a press conference and announce you and your of
fice aren’t in on this. No reason to drag you down with me.”
“But I got you into this. I asked for this fight. I can deal with it. Saving an innocent man is a lot more important than having folks slam me as some kind of traitor.”
“I knew you’d say that,” McGee said. “And I really do need your help in pulling off the magic this case needs. Beals and I can’t do it alone. But if you let me announce you’re not in on this, that Brisco’s information was wrong, then you’ll be of more use to me.”
“How’s that?”
“Simple. The media won’t be hounding you because you’re not on the case. All you did was go with me to Livingston. As soon as I pull the plug, the press will drop you.”
“Are you sure you want to do it this way?” Lije asked. “I want to fight this war with you. I’ve played it safe too long. Time for me to take a stand. Nobody questions my patriotism and gets away with it.”
“Yeah, and if it was just you, then maybe that’d be fine. But you’ve got three others in that office whose lives might be in danger. Some crazy just might take a shot at them. Kill one of them. Diana’s in enough trouble with that stalker without adding more shooters. And how’s Janie going to see someone taking aim at her?”
“But—”
“No, Lije, play it my way. I’ll have things for you to do. I’ll use you, but behind the scenes. When the time is right, you’ll be there to help me free the innocent man. Are you with me on this?”
“I guess.”
“Okay, I’m going out in ten minutes and transforming myself into an egomaniac who has been deeply injured by even the suggestion that I’d need the help of a small-town, hick lawyer. When I finish, you’ll look like the Gomer Pyle of the legal profession. Know that I won’t mean any of it.” He paused and laughed. “Okay, not all of it.”
“It’ll be just like you used to treat me in college.”
“Seriously, once you’re officially off the case, you won’t have any rights to see Omar Jones. Do you understand?”
“I guess so,” Lije said. “But—”
“Unofficially, you’re still with me, working on the case. We need to get the whole team together. On Saturday bring them down to my lake house at noon. Make sure you’re not followed. That place is still in my aunt’s name, and no one in the media knows I have it. We’ll work out our plan.”
45
LIJE WALKED BACK DOWN THE HALL TO THE RECEPTION area. He studied his grim-faced colleagues. They still looked shell-shocked.
“Did you talk to McGee?” Curtis asked.
“He fired us. We’re not on the case. Have there been any more eggs?”
“No,” Janie replied. “Diana said the last thing that hit the window was a tomato. I’m not sure I want off the case.”
“Don’t worry—if Kent needs anything, we’ll be working with him. Right now he’s waiting for information. Come on back to my office. Let’s watch McGee grandstand for the press.”
The press conference was deemed so important that even the networks broke in to their regular schedule to carry it live. McGee first lashed out at the media and all those calling him anti-American. Dressed in a tailored blue suit, white shirt, and red tie, McGee paraded out the Bill of Rights and the Constitution and assured those watching that Jones had not received a fair trial. He hammered again and again that he was in this fight not to trample on America but to show the world we are a nation of values and rights even in situations that concern the worst of crimes. He assured everyone that death threats, rock throwing, and editorials would not dissuade him from doing what he saw as his sacred duty to provide equal protection under the law. He pointed out that the attorneys representing Jones had been inexperienced or inept as well under funded and unprepared, and the man deserved better than that.
McGee then went after Warden James Ray Burgess for giving out the false information that Lije Evans was involved in this case. “Lije is my friend, he was my college roommate, but he is a small-town lawyer who would be overwhelmed by a case of this magnitude. In fact, my friend would surely not take a case involving a convicted terrorist.”
Then McGee delivered the real blow. “The truth is Evans simply doesn’t have the stomach for this kind of work. He’s well suited for handling the foundation he set up to carry on his late wife’s charitable work. That’s what he does, along with the typical small-town legal work. But think about it: would anyone trust him with a death-penalty case?”
Smiling, McGee added, “I don’t have time for questions. I have a case to prepare.”
Lije hit the power button on the remote as the CNN field reporter began to sum up what McGee had said. The screen went dark. Everyone but Lije was stunned.
Janie finally broke the silence. “That was a bit harsh, even for a lawyer.”
“He’s always been about ego,” Curtis added. “To him it’s not about saving Jones; it’s about getting the press. He lives for the flashbulbs and sound bites.”
Jameson was silent. The color had drained from her face and her mouth drooped like a flower caught in the midst of a summer heat wave. “I thought he respected you. I thought we were going to be on the same team. I really liked that idea. I can’t believe I liked him. He seems different around here. What a con! I can’t believe I bought it.”
Lije smiled and let his disillusioned team in on the secret. “We are officially cut from the case, and, let’s face it, I am a small-town lawyer. Here’s what not being officially on the case means.” He paused. “None of us can visit Jones on death row.”
“That’s pretty obvious,” Jameson cracked.
“But,” Lije continued, “we’ll still be working with Kent in an unofficial capacity to prove Mr. Jones is innocent. That news conference was all about getting the eyes of the press off this office and off each of you. It was also about Kent wanting to make sure no one here gets hurt.”
“So—” Janie began.
“So we have a secret meeting with Kent on Saturday where we’ll get our assignments. Until then we simply go about our business working on the legal items we have scheduled. Let’s turn the phones back on and get to work.”
Lije got up, walked back to the front door, and stepped out on the sidewalk. He was greeted by three television news crews, but no eggs or fruit.
“Is it true what McGee said?” a young man in a blue suit asked. “You’re not on the Jones case?”
“You heard him,” Lije said.
A woman held up a microphone and hollered, “He said you didn’t have the stomach for that kind of work.”
“He said that? The fact is this office has never officially been on the case. Two members of my staff and I did go to Texas with McGee, but that was our only contact. I guess you could call it an educational experience for us. We’d never been in that situation and wanted to know what McGee’s practice was like. Today we are doing what we usually do, helping folks right here in Salem with routine legal challenges.”
He then added a humorous note that he hoped would separate him from his friend’s agenda. “So, as you can see, this hick lawyer needs to get back to his rather mundane job. No story for you here. I suggest you chase down Mr. McGee.”
Seemingly satisfied, the news crews packed their gear in their vehicles and left. Frank Stratton walked up to Lije and said, “Knew you wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Really?” Lije asked.
“Yep, you’d never go to court for someone like that dirty Arab. You stick with your own kind.”
So that’s what Frank thought. That explains the cool reception that morning. And now that Frank believed he was off the Jones case, he was okay, back “with his own kind.”
Lije thought of the teachings of Jesus and how they were to do for “one of the least of these.” If he could help McGee reveal the truth about Jones, that he was innocent, then maybe a few folks would go back and reread Matthew 25:35–40.
46
KENT MCGEE’S WORLD WAS ROCKY. THE MEDIA HAD spent two full days hounding
him at his Little Rock office. Police had been called three times to escort angry visitors off the property. One group set up a round-the-clock protest and recruited volunteers with its new HateKentMcGee.com website. Editorials were running nine to one against him for being involved in the case. Some clients were dropping him too, but because he was wealthy, that didn’t bother him in the least.
Then there were the death threats. There had been so many in the first two days the staff no longer kept track. An eight-foot cross had been burned in front of his home Thursday night. That image quickly spread to the front pages of news sites all around the globe. Five different groups took credit for it.
Today was different. No one could touch him here. His lake house was off the radar and so was the team that would soon help him in what was surely a case to make or break his career. He needed the skills of those coming to join him, but he hated to bring them into this. He did not want any of them to be branded un-American or put at risk. Everything they did had to be undercover.
A buzzer sounded and the lawyer glanced at a small TV monitor. Lije Evans was tapping a number into the security box. A few seconds later the gate swung open. Right on time. Taking a last sip of coffee, McGee wandered out the front door and onto the covered porch just as the SUV drove through the gate and down his long lane. He snickered when he noted that his friend’s ruse included pulling a ski boat for a day of fun on Greers Ferry Lake. He laughed out loud when they got out of the Explorer. Each had on a bathing suit.
“Good work, Lije.” McGee said as he threw open the front door. “You all look like the real deal.”
“What else do hick lawyers do on the weekend but play golf or ski?”
“Did I come off a bit strong at that press conference?” McGee asked.
His friend smiled. “Let’s just say you’re no longer on my Christmas-card list.”
The troop came across the porch and headed for the living room, their noisy flip-flops sounding as if more than a dozen were in the group. With faces lathered in sunscreen, loud T-shirts, and sunglasses and rain hats, they would’ve been at home on any beach in the world. Even Harlow was dressed for the occasion, sporting a baseball cap and a Hawaiian scarf tied around her neck.