(2014) The Professor

by Robert Bailey

  “All right, you know what to do,” JimBone said as he pulled into a parking space a block from the courthouse. “And you know what the consequences are if you don’t.” His look was cold. Businesslike.

  “I know.” As if she could forget. Since cutting the deal, JimBone had visited the Sundowners Club once a week to remind Wilma of those consequences, and just two weeks earlier, Jack Willistone himself had made an appearance.

  She opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, clearing her mind of everything but her girls. “Nothing for me. Everything for them,” she whispered to herself as she walked toward the marble stone building with the words “Henshaw County Courthouse” imprinted on the front.

  57

  Fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of Wilma, and Rick knew Tyler was near the end.

  “Ms Batson, you are the only eyewitness to this accident, correct?” Jameson asked, his voice rising to reach all corners of the courtroom.

  Ms Rose shrugged. “Far as I know. Weren’t nobody else at the store.”

  “And, based on your statement, the Honda turned in front of the rig, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the rig was just a hundred yards away when the Honda started turning?”

  “Yes.”

  Tyler nodded and looked at the jury, as if telling them without words, I told you so. “No further questions.”

  Judge Cutler immediately turned to Rick. “Re-direct, Mr Drake?”

  “No, your honor,” Rick said, wishing there was something else he could ask Ms Rose, but knowing there wasn’t. He was out of time.

  “Very well,” Cutler said, turning to smile at the jury. “Mr Drake, please call your next witness.”

  Rick’s stomach tightened into a knot as he thought of any possible way to delay the trial. A bathroom break was as good as he could do. Rising from his chair, he started to ask for one, but, before he could speak, he felt a hard tap on his shoulder. He wheeled around and saw Powell, grinning, his face red as a beet. “She’s here, dude. She’s here.”

  “Your honor,” Rick said, turning back to the bench and forcing his voice to be firm. “The plaintiff calls Ms Wilma Newton.”

  58

  The Judge’s bailiff opened the double doors and ushered Wilma through them. From the back of the courtroom, Wilma could see the Judge. The jury. Rick Drake – looking dashing in a black charcoal suit. And, to her left, sitting at the defendant’s table, Jack Willistone. She walked slowly, trying to be elegant. Nothing for me. Everything for them. Nothing for me. Everything for them. She repeated it over and over in her thoughts as she passed Rick and sat in the witness chair.

  “Raise your right hand, please, ma’am,” Judge Cutler said in a booming voice.

  Wilma did as she was told.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  Wilma saw the doors open and another man enter the courtroom. Her stomach tightened. The man had sandy blonde hair and a six-foot-four-inch frame, and wore his customary golf shirt and khakis. JimBone Wheeler was in the house.

  “I do.”

  “Ms Newton, would you please introduce yourself to the jury,” Rick said, walking along the jury railing and looking into a few of the jurors’ eyes before looking back at Wilma. Wilma’s late entrance had given him no time to talk with her or ask her about the affidavit. Can’t worry about that now, Rick thought, trying to stay focused and calm. His heart was beating so fast he could barely keep his voice steady.

  “My name is Wilma Newton.”

  “Where are you from, Ms Newton?”

  “I was born in Boone’s Hill, Tennessee. Moved to Tuscaloosa when I was eighteen years old to be with my husband.”

  “Who was your husband, Ms Newton?”

  “Dewey.”

  “And what was his full name?”

  “Harold Newton.”

  “The same Harold Newton that was killed in the accident that we’re here about today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She’s doing great, Rick thought, his heart still pounding in his chest. She looks good. Sounds genuine. Let’s ease into it.

  “At the time of his death, was Mr Newton employed by Willistone Trucking Company?”

  “He was.”

  “How long had he been employed by Willistone?”

  “Not sure exactly. Seven, eight years.”

  “And what was Dewey’s position with the company?” Take it slow.

  “A driver. Trucker, I guess. Not sure if he had a job title or anything. He just drove the truck.”

  “And did you have personal knowledge of how often he worked?” Let’s lay a little foundation.

  “I was his wife. Sure. When he wasn’t home, he was on the road. Plus, he would talk about his work schedule.”

  “He was on the road a lot, wasn’t he?” Rick asked.

  “Objection, your honor. Counsel is leading the witness,” Tyler said, standing.

  “Sustained,” Judge Cutler responded. “Don’t lead, Counselor.”

  Rick walked a little towards Wilma, pausing. The objection had given him a dramatic opening. All the jurors were focused on him.

  “Ms Newton, would you please describe for the jury what Dewey’s schedule was like at Willistone?” Rick walked back to his spot at the end of the railing, catching a few jurors’ eyes. Most of them, though, were watching Wilma. Perfect. He turned and waited for her response.

  God, please forgive me, Wilma thought, looking at JimBone and Jack Willistone out in the galley. Nothing for me. Everything for them.

  “It was fine,” Wilma said, in a calm, clear voice.

  There was a gasp from one of the jurors, and Rick was sure he had misheard.

  “Ms Newton, could you repeat your answer? I didn’t hear you.”

  “It was fine. Dewey always told me he liked the schedule he was on. Normal hours. Decent pay.” She smiled and Rick froze.

  Oh, holy shit.

  “But... didn’t you... I... I met with you.” Rick struggled to put his words together. “You said... you told Ms Murphy, my associate, and me that it was crazy... that Dewey told you it was crazy. That Dewey told you that Willistone was forcing him to drive more than the law allowed. Right?”

  “Objection, your honor. Counsel is leading the witness. His question also calls for hearsay.” Tyler looked at Rick when he finished his objection, and the bastard’s smugness was palpable. He expected this, Rick thought.

  “Sustained on leading. Don’t lead your witness, Counselor.” Judge Cutler leaned over the podium and made eye contact with Rick. He looked concerned, no doubt realizing that the witness was testifying contrary to Rick’s opening statement.

  “Ms Newton, did we meet back in February of last year to discuss this case?” Let’s try this again.

  “Yes.” Wilma had not flinched. She was poker-faced and, actually, pleasant.

  “Did we discuss Dewey’s schedules at Willistone?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “And how did you describe them then?”

  “I’m sure the same way. I mean, that was a long time ago.” She looked right at Rick, then the jury, many of whom were sitting on the edge of their seat.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  “Ms Newton, did you not tell me that Dewey’s schedules were crazy? That was your word, wasn’t it? ‘Crazy’? Did you not say that?”

  “Objection, your honor. Mr Drake just asked Ms Newton four questions. Could he break it down a little?” Tyler’s arrogant and patronizing voice made Rick’s stomach churn, but Rick forced himself not to look at the bastard. Just try to stay calm.

  “I’ll rephrase, your honor,” Rick said, walking towards Wilma.

  “Go ahead,” Cutler said.

  “Ms Newton, did you ever, in my presence, describe Dewey’s schedules at Willistone Trucking Company as ‘crazy’?”

  She leaned towards Rick, glaring back.

  “Absolutely not,” she said.
“I would never have said that.”

  “Did you ever, in my presence, say that Dewey told you that he was being forced to drive twenty hours at a time?”

  “Never. I remember you asking me questions like that and wanting me to say those things, but I never did. Dewey loved that company,” she said, looking at the jury. “And they treated him good.”

  I can’t believe this is happening, Rick thought. He knew he needed to regroup, but he was unable to stop the next question from coming out of his mouth.

  “You told me that Dewey got a couple of speeding tickets, because Willistone’s schedule forced him to speed, didn’t you?”

  “No, Mr Drake. I never said that.”

  “You also said that Jack Willistone inspected the driver’s logs himself every week, making sure that whatever was on the logs was compliant with DOT regulations, regardless of how many hours were actually driven.”

  “No, I never told you or anyone else that.”

  “Ms Newton, you told me that Dewey was so scared of Jack Willistone that a lot of times you helped him fill out his driver’s logs so it looked like he was under ten hours.”

  Wilma shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband never said those things, and I never helped him fill out his driver’s logs.”

  Rick felt heat sting his forehead. This is a fucking ambush. “Ms Newton, I met with you. You told me everything I just asked you about.”

  Tyler rose, but then shook his head and sat back down without raising an objection.

  “Mr Drake, I remember our meeting and I remember you wanting me to say those things.” She looked right at the jury. “But I never, ever said those things. Dewey’s schedules were reasonable at Willistone. He...” Wilma’s voice cracked and her lip trembled. “Dewey loved that company.”

  When Rick was in the seventh grade, a fifth-grader smarted off to him and Rick grabbed the little SOB by the collar. When he did, the fifth-grader kicked him in the balls as hard as he could, and Rick lay in the school parking lot in pain for fifteen minutes.

  This felt worse.

  He felt the jury’s eyes on him. The Judge. Tyler. He had trusted his gut, and... I was wrong. He looked over at Ruth Ann, who was glaring at Wilma. I failed her. She came to me and... I failed. Rick’s hand went into his front pocket and he felt for the photograph of Bob, Jeannie and Nicole Bradshaw. Envisioning the photograph, his legs began to shake. I failed them too.

  Rick knew he needed to regroup, but he didn’t know how. He had fallen in a trap. Glancing at Tyler, the Big Cat’s amused expression told him all he needed to know. He knew all along, Rick thought again.

  The courtroom was silent as a morgue. Rick turned to the galley and saw Powell hold his face in his hands, and Rick wished he could do the same. I should’ve taken her deposition or gotten her to sign the affidavit. I should not have put her on the stand without getting her sworn.

  Rick turned around, feeling the sweat on his forehead, as the silence was broken by the sound of the double doors in the back of the courtroom squeaking open and footsteps clacking on the hardwood floor. Rick was frozen in place. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do.

  “Mr Drake,” Judge Cutler said, and Rick managed to look up at him. “Would you like a short recess?”

  “I...” You can’t take a recess now, Rick thought. Not like this. Not with Wilma’s testimony emblazoned in the jury’s mind. But what else could he do? There weren’t any questions left to ask her. “I...”

  “Your honor, may I approach?”

  The hard, gravelly voice cut through the air like a knife. It did not belong to Tyler or his associate. And, though it sounded familiar, Rick was so numb with shock he didn’t turn around.

  “Who are you?” Judge Cutler asked, sounding annoyed. Then Rick saw Cutler’s eyebrows raise, and the Judge cocked his head to the side. “Well, I’ll be...” The Judge didn’t complete the thought, and his face changed from irritation to awe. Finally, Rick forced his head to turn towards the voice.

  When he saw who was there, his knees gave a little. What the hell... Then he caught Jameson Tyler’s face and saw initial recognition replaced by a look he had never seen before on the arrogant bastard.

  Fear.

  “Your honor, my name is Thomas Jackson McMurtrie.”

  59

  “I’m sorry, I’m late,” Tom said, setting his briefcase down on the counsel table next to Ruth Ann. He caught her eye and leaned towards her. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me. OK?”

  Ruth Ann’s face was white with shock, but she nodded. Tom took her hand. “I’m going to make this right, I promise.”

  “Late?” Judge Cutler asked, sounding confused.

  Tom squeezed Ruth Ann’s hand, and then turned to face the bench. “Yes, sir. I intended to be here yesterday, but I got into a little scrape on my farm.”

  “You’re Professor... McMurtrie, right?” Cutler asked, holding up a book that he kept on the Bench. It was McMurtrie’s Evidence. Second Edition.

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “I thought you were... I mean, the papers said you were almost...” Cutler’s face blushed red, catching himself before he said the word, but Tom knew where he was going.

  “Dead?” Tom offered, smiling and thinking of something John Wayne had said in the movie Big Jake. “Not hardly, Judge.” Then, turning and taking a long stride towards Jameson Tyler, who was now standing in front of the bench, Tom repeated himself. “Not hardly.”

  Tom stood straight, looking down on his former student. His former friend. Tyler cut his eyes to Judge Cutler.

  “Your honor, I don’t know what the Professor is doing here, but I object to this interruption.”

  Tom took a step closer to Tyler, their toes almost touching now.

  “Your honor, I’d like to enter my appearance as additional counsel of record for the plaintiff, Ruth Ann Wilcox.” As he spoke, Tom never took his eyes off Tyler.

  Tyler rolled his eyes, then brushed past Tom’s shoulder and stepped in front of him. “Judge, it is way too late in the game to be trading horses.”

  “It’s not a trade, Judge. I’ll be joining Mr Drake. There’s nothing in the rules of civil procedure that would prevent a party from retaining additional counsel during a trial.”

  Judge Cutler leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin. He looked past the lawyers to Ruth Ann and banged his gavel.

  “Ms Wilcox, would you please approach the bench.”

  Ruth Ann walked towards them, her eyes on Tom, and then on the Judge.

  “Ms Wilcox, the Professor here, er... Mr McMurtrie, I mean, has asked to join Mr Drake as your lawyer in this case. I presume you’re OK with that?”

  Ruth Ann looked at Tom, and, for a split second, Tom thought she might say no. Then her mouth curved into the smallest of smiles and she nodded at Cutler. “Yes, your honor, I’d like that.”

  “Your honor, I object,” Tyler said, his frustration obvious. “This is ridiculous... I mean...”

  “Overruled,” Cutler interrupted. “I’ve made my decision.” He banged his gavel. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said, turning to face them. “Thomas McMurtrie will now be joining Rick Drake as counsel for the plaintiff.” He turned to the lawyers.

  “Please proceed, gentlemen.”

  Tom and Rick followed Ruth Ann back to the counsel table.

  “What are you doing?” Rick asked. Tom could tell the boy was overwhelmed by shock.

  “Taking you up on your offer,” Tom said.

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

  Tom smiled. “Better late than never. I take it Ms Newton has changed her story.”

  “One hundred eighty degrees,” Rick said, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve read...”

  “I’ve read everything,” Tom said.

  Rick gazed wide-eyed at Tom as they reached the table. “How?”

  Tom started to respon
d, but felt a rough hand on his arm. Ripping his arm away, he turned to see Tyler.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing up here, Professor.” He chuckled, glancing at Rick, then back to Tom. “Well, isn’t this something? Rick Drake and the Professor, together again. The papers will have a field day. Now, y’all play nice and don’t fight. We wouldn’t want any more things turning up on YouTube.” Tyler smiled and started to walk away, but, before he could, Tom caught his arm, pulled him close, and didn’t let him go. Keeping his face a mask of perfect calm, Tom whispered in Jameson’s ear, “Taking you to the woodshed is going to be so much fun, Jamo.” Tom winked, then let go of Jameson’s arm just as he tried to jerk it away, causing the Big Cat to stumble.

  His face crimson, Tyler straightened his suit and stepped backward towards the defense table, his eyes never leaving Tom’s.

  “Counselor, do you have any further questions for this witness?” Judge Cutler asked, looking at Rick and gesturing towards Wilma Newton, who remained seated at the witness stand.

  “I...” Rick started, then looked to Tom.

  “Yes, we do, your honor,” Tom said. “May we approach?” Tom was already walking, Rick behind him. “Trust me,” Tom whispered under his breath to Rick.

  “What now?” the Judge asked, clearly irritated.

  “Your honor,” Tom started, as they arrived at the bench again. “We’d like to treat Ms Newton as an adverse witness and cross-examine her. Also, I’d like to take over for Rick. Rick may have to be a rebuttal witness against Ms Newton, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to ask her any more questions.”

  “A rebuttal witness?” Tyler asked, sounding exasperated. “Judge, a lawyer cannot be a witness in his own case. And they haven’t laid the proper predicate for Ms Newton to be treated adverse.”

  “I’m not sure about Mr Drake testifying, but Ms Newton seems clearly adverse to the plaintiff’s position,” Judge Cutler answered, looking down and rubbing his eyes.