“You heard that?” Luke asked. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to enjoy the sight of a father loving his daughter.”
Instead of joy, pain filled Luke’s heart. “She won’t remember this if I’m sent off—” He stopped.
“Please don’t talk that way,” Jane said. “It ruins the moment for me.”
Theo Grayson stared at the account of the transfer of land from his family to the Westside Free Church more than 150 years earlier.
“I didn’t know anything about this,” he said to Adisa. “The earliest documents for land transfers in Nash County are on microfilm, and you have to use one of those OCR machines that are almost as old as I am to read them.”
“I’d like to see the records,” Adisa replied. “They might tell a little bit more about the original trustees. What can you tell me about Harold Grayson III?”
“He was the third of four,” Grayson replied. “They stopped with Harold Grayson IV, who was my great-grandfather. The first Harold came to this area with a horse, an ax, and a plow. I don’t know a lot of details. My spinster aunt was into genealogy. Her records probably went to one of my cousins in Savannah. I’m sure I could uncover a bunch of information about my family if I went onto one of those ancestry sites.”
Adisa paused for a moment. “Do the old microfilm records document the sale of slaves?”
Grayson put down the sheet of paper. “Occasionally, slaves were transferred with the land. Are you wondering about the connection between our ancestors?”
“I know there was a sharecropper relationship, but we don’t have to go there,” Adisa said. “At least not now.”
Grayson locked eyes with Adisa. “I acknowledged to myself a long time ago that what my family did was wrong and the excuses they used were false. But I’ve never had a chance to say that to someone whose forebears suffered at their hands. That likely happened in our family lines, and I’d welcome the opportunity to make things right—”
“You can start by letting me rescind my rejection of the job offer you gave me,” Adisa said.
“What?” Grayson asked in surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“And I’m not sure I do, either, except that I know in my heart I’m supposed to work for you, even if it means helping defend Officer Nelson.”
Grayson couldn’t hide his shock. “Why?” he managed.
“Two things,” Adisa answered. “One that’s easy to understand; another that’s as obscure as my family history.”
Adisa told Grayson about Sister Armistead’s testimony at the church followed by the trip to the cemetery. It seemed odd opening up on such a deeply personal level to the older lawyer, but it simply felt both right and necessary. Grayson listened without interruption.
“Does this sound crazy to you?” Adisa asked at one point.
“Not the way you describe it,” Grayson answered thoughtfully. “What Deshaun Hamlin’s grandmother said at the church is amazing, and I’m impressed that you followed her lead. I mean, if everyone who’s been deeply hurt by another person forgave—” Grayson stopped.
“The world would change,” Adisa said.
Grayson nodded. “And you’re obviously a much more spiritual person than I am. You’re like Raphael, and I’m like Harold III.”
“You don’t know what Harold III believed. He obviously wanted to support God’s work. Otherwise he wouldn’t have donated land for a church.”
“That’s true, but if Raphael Adams were here, I think he’d see himself in you.”
A shiver ran down Adisa’s spine. It was the second time a comment by Grayson had touched her in a place much deeper than her mind.
“It may not make logical sense,” Adisa said, “but if after hearing all this you still want to hire me, the answer is yes.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Adisa quickly checked to see if her heart agreed. Nothing rose up to protest. She was at peace but sensed war was about to break out. Grayson pointed up with his right index finger.
“I’d be afraid not to. However, our trip to the deed room will need to wait. It’s time for you and Luke to get together. You and I may have an agreement, but he’s obviously going to have to sign off on it, too.”
“Okay,” Adisa said. “And I need to call Jasper Baldwin and tell him I’m not interested in serving as a special prosecutor.”
The phone in the kitchen rang and Jane answered it. Luke watched her eyes widen as she listened.
“This morning?” she asked and then nodded. “Okay, I’ll have to scramble to get a babysitter.”
She listened another moment before hanging up the phone. “That was Mr. Grayson’s paralegal. They want both of us to come to his office.”
“Why?”
“She said he will explain when we get there.”
Luke backed the car out of the driveway. Jane was in the passenger seat sending a last-minute text message to the babysitter who’d picked up Ashley.
“I wonder why Mr. Grayson’s assistant wouldn’t tell you the name of the lawyer he wants us to meet,” Luke said.
“She just said it was someone to interview,” Jane said as she sent the text. “What will you ask him?”
“How many cases have you won? Will you believe me when I tell you the truth? Are you a fighter or will you try to talk me into a plea bargain?”
They walked together through the front door of the law firm. The reception area was already beginning to feel familiar.
“We’re here to see Mr. Grayson,” Luke told a receptionist he didn’t recognize. “I’m Luke—”
“Yes, Officer Nelson. Please have a seat. I’ll let him know that you and your wife are here.”
A couple of minutes later, Mr. Grayson opened the door that led to the interior area of the office. Inside the conference room was the female attorney they’d briefly met at the courthouse.
“Luke and Jane,” Grayson said, motioning toward the woman, “I’m sure you remember Ms. Adisa Johnson. I’ve asked her to meet with us and discuss the possibility of representing you. I’d still be in charge, but she would play a big role.”
Luke and Jane simultaneously turned to each other, their mouths dropping open. Grayson sat at the end of the table with the black lawyer to his right. Luke and Jane sat across from her. Luke quickly studied the woman’s face. It was hard to tell what she was thinking.
“Do you know Deshaun Hamlin?” he asked.
“No,” the young woman responded evenly. “Did you?”
Luke shook his head. “But since this happened I found out he played on the high school basketball team.”
“And I’ve been to his hospital room several times with his pastor to pray for his recovery,” the woman continued. “Would you have a problem with that?”
Luke heard Jane gasp.
“No,” Luke replied. “I want him to recover. For several reasons, not just because it would be good for me.”
“And I’m going to continue to pray for him,” Adisa responded. “Most likely from a distance since I’m not sure how his family will view any involvement I have in your case.”
Jane spoke. “It’s a shock for us to meet you.”
“Yeah,” Luke added. “We don’t know anything about you except what Mr. Grayson mentioned in the DA’s office and what he just said.”
The woman looked at Grayson, who nodded his head. For the next few minutes, Adisa told them about her educational and professional background and experience. Luke liked the confident way she spoke. He knew that a lot of former prosecutors ended up working as defense lawyers because they already knew the ins and outs of criminal law.
“Because I need to be in Campbellton to help take care of my aunt, I’ve accepted a job offer with Mr. Grayson’s firm. He’s asked me to help with your case.”
“And you want to do that?” Jane asked.
“I didn’t at first,” Adisa replied. “But a couple of things have happened that changed my mind.”
&nb
sp; She told them about Thelma Armistead’s testimony the previous night at the Zion Hills Baptist Church. When she got to the point where Deshaun’s grandmother forgave Luke and cried out for mercy, Jane’s eyes filled with tears. Adisa stopped.
“That’s unbelievable,” Jane said, sniffling.
Luke, too, was stunned. He tried to imagine the scene in his mind as he stared at the top of the shiny table.
“It challenged my attitude,” Adisa continued. “As a lawyer, I believe the Constitution and the Bill of Rights guarantee everyone a fair trial, but as a black woman it’s hard to put aside years of hearing how African Americans have been singled out for differential treatment by white police officers.”
“I’ve never done that,” Luke replied.
“From your point of view,” Grayson interjected. “But that’s going to be a factor we have to deal with in the case, especially with black jurors.”
Luke didn’t like being accused of racism by anyone, but before he responded, Jane spoke.
“He’s right, Luke,” she said.
Luke grunted and kept his mouth shut.
“And I’m not going to take this case just so you can have a black lawyer sitting beside you in the courtroom,” Adisa said. “People will accuse us of that, but it’s not true. This isn’t for show. After hearing Ms. Armistead and praying about it myself, I’m willing to help if that’s what you want.”
Hearing all this talk about praying and forgiving and asking God for mercy was so foreign to Luke he wasn’t sure how to respond. He felt Jane tap his leg beneath the table. He looked at her as she firmly nodded her head.
“Mr. Grayson,” Luke said, “what do you think?”
“I wouldn’t recommend bringing in Adisa if I didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“Okay,” Luke said and shrugged. “I guess so.”
Grayson slid a sheet of paper and a pen across the table toward him. “This modifies our agreement and adds Adisa as one of your attorneys. As you know, the previous agreement set the fee at one dollar subject to modification. That won’t change.”
“Wait—you’re still not going to charge me?” Luke asked in surprise. “I thought that was just to get us through the day with the grand jury.”
Grayson looked at Adisa. “I had another figure in mind,” the older lawyer said. “But after listening to Adisa’s story this morning, I decided I need to do something bold, too. I hope my law partners don’t have heart attacks when they find out.”
Luke quickly signed the agreement before the lawyers changed their minds.
“Good,” Grayson said. “Now I’d like Adisa to listen to the recording of our first interview.”
Grayson hit several keys on his tablet, and in a few seconds Luke had the weird experience of listening to his own voice. A couple of times, he raised his eyes enough to try to gauge Adisa’s reaction to his story. The black lawyer’s face betrayed nothing.
Adisa tried to control her breathing as the recording began. She didn’t want to react in an unprofessional way. As Nelson methodically described what had unfolded on East Nixon Street, Adisa gripped the arms of the chair tightly and desperately wished she could change what she knew was about to happen. If only someone else had been on the scene to disrupt the chain of events.
When the police officer described Deshaun running toward him, she barely kept herself from crying out, “Stop! Stop!”
She clenched her teeth behind her tightly closed mouth as Nelson described firing the shots that cut down Deshaun in the middle of the street. The policeman’s voice betrayed no emotion until the second officer arrived on the scene and told him the black teenager was unarmed and possibly bleeding to death. At that point, Nelson was silent for a few seconds before he continued. After the officer finished describing the gruesome scene, Grayson brought him back to the call he’d received from the dispatcher about the robbery at the convenience store. A few minutes later, Grayson turned off the recording.
“Any follow-up questions?” he asked Adisa.
“Not at this time,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t quiver.
“Then we’re done for now,” Grayson said. “Luke, you need to be back here this afternoon at three o’clock. The judge wants to meet with us and the district attorney to discuss the case.”
“Isn’t that unusual?” Luke asked.
“Yes, it is,” Grayson replied. “And I’m not sure what he has in mind.”
After Luke and Jane were gone, Adisa and Grayson returned to the conference room. Adisa had bottled up so much inner tension she was about to explode.
“That went well,” the older lawyer said.
“How do you define ‘well’?”
“Luke agreed to make you part of the defense team.”
“True, but unless things change, he’s going to be a very shaky witness. How many times have you listened to the interview?”
“Three.”
“Once was enough for me to see huge problems. He sounds robotic and quickly defaults to blame-shifting. Those two traits are a lethal combination for a witness. Even when he’s telling the truth, which is tough for me to identify beyond his name and occupation, it sounds like he’s hiding something. At best, he comes across as callous. A jury could easily conclude that he would calmly shoot an unarmed young man whether he’s black, white, yellow, or brown.”
“But he was upset after the shooting.”
“Caused by what? I didn’t hear any remorse. If the shakes he described were triggered by fear, what was he afraid of? That he was about to get in big trouble?”
“My natural optimism can be a weakness,” the older lawyer replied wryly. “It didn’t strike me the same way. Your perspective is going to be valuable to this case.”
“Even if Nelson was scared and thought he was in danger, he was wrong. It’s all going to come down to whether a jury thinks his fear was reasonable under the circumstances—”
“And justified shooting someone who wasn’t in fact a lethal threat. Remember, he thought Hamlin fired at him first.”
“Please, call him Deshaun,” Adisa replied. “I can’t dehumanize him.”
“Will you call Officer Nelson Luke?”
“Yes,” Adisa said after a brief pause. “But Deshaun didn’t shoot, which undermines Nelson’s, uh, Luke’s credibility. If I were prosecuting this case, I’d ask Luke ten different questions designed to make him admit Deshaun didn’t have a gun and therefore couldn’t have fired at him. I’d bring the officer’s gun into the courtroom and lay it on the railing in front of the jury box and make sure every juror understood that it was the only gun on East Nixon Street the night of the shooting. I’d hammer that point so hard the lid on Luke’s coffin would be shut for good.”
“I’m glad you called Jasper Baldwin and turned him down.”
Adisa shook her head. “You can thank Thelma Armistead, Raphael Adams, and God for that,” she said and then paused. “With a little help from John Adams, the second president.”
Luke and Jane picked up Ashley from the babysitter on their way home.
“What do you think about Ms. Johnson?” Jane asked.
“It’s going to take time and proof for me to trust her,” Luke replied.
“If Mr. Grayson believes it’s a smart move adding her to the case, I don’t see how we can disagree.” Jane’s tone of voice lacked conviction.
“Come on,” Luke prodded. “Tell me what you really think. I can tell when you’re holding out on me.”
“Okay,” Jane replied. “I’m trying to keep your hopes up when it’s next to impossible for me to do so for myself. I’m at my wit’s end about everything that’s happened. I prayed you wouldn’t be indicted, but you were. I’ve prayed for someone to help you and thought Mr. Grayson might be the answer. He’s on the case, but in the back of my mind I’m worried he’s going to dump you onto Ms. Johnson, who sounds like she has a lot more experience prosecuting cases than defending them. Regardless of what they said during the meeting, it looks
to me like Mr. Grayson wants to have a black lawyer sitting beside you in court. That could backfire. You’re not a racist and you didn’t shoot Deshaun Hamlin because of the color of his skin. You believed he was going to kill you. Setting you up with Ms. Johnson makes it look like we’re trying to play the race card ourselves. I didn’t say anything back there, but I’ve tried to be like Deshaun’s grandmother and forgive the people who’ve said horrible things about you, because I know in my heart they aren’t true.”
“You said what I felt way better than I could,” Luke said.
Ashley started to whimper, and Jane turned sideways in her seat to place a pacifier in the baby’s mouth.
“All I want to do right now is go home, lock the door, and try to forget about everything except Ashley,” she said.
On her way to the hospital, Adisa called Shanika and told her the news about the job.
“See, I was right as usual,” Shanika said when Adisa finished. “I knew you were supposed to contact Mr. Grayson about a job. He’s liked you ever since you worked for him when you were in high school.”
“It’s not that simple. He told me there was a string attached to the offer. The string ended up looking more like a rope.”
“What do you mean?”
Adisa told her about the requirement that she assist in the representation of Luke Nelson. Shanika remained silent.
“Are you there?” Adisa asked.
“Yeah,” Shanika replied. “But I’m not sure your brain is still attached to your body. I wanted you to work for Mr. Grayson so you could be in Campbellton to help look after Aunt Josie. I never would have expected you to sell your soul for a paycheck.”
Adisa knew this was the preamble to future reactions from the black community. She couldn’t tell everyone the complicated, unexplainable spiritual process that had brought her to her decision. Soon she’d have to come up with a shorthand answer. Now, she didn’t have one.
“Do you want to hear the whole story?” she asked.
“It’s going to take something good to convince me you’re not crazy.”
A Time to Stand Page 22