A Time to Kill

When the banner passed under the jury room, all twelve gaped from the window. The incessant chanting rattled the glass panes. The bullhorn sounded like a loudspeaker hanging from the ceiling. The jurors stared in disbelief at the mob, the black mob which filled the street and trailed around the corner onto Caffey. A varied assortment of homemade signs bobbed above the masses and demanded that the man be freed.

"I didn’t know there were this many niggers in Ford County," Rita Mae Plunk said. At that moment, the other eleven held the same thought.

Buckley was furious. He and Musgrove watched from a third-floor window in the library. The roar below had disrupted their quiet conversation.

"I didn’t know there were this many niggers in Ford County," Musgrove said.

"There ain’t. Somebody shipped these niggers in here. I wonder who put them up to it."

"Probably Brigance."

"Yeah, probably so. It’s mighty convenient that they start all this hell-raising when the jury is deliberating. There must be five thousand niggers down there."

"At least."

Noose and Mr. Pate watched and listened from a second-floor window in chambers. His Honor was not happy. He worried about his jury. "I don’t see how they can concentrate on much with all this going on."

"Pretty .good timing, ain’t it, Judge?" Mr. Pate said.

"It certainly is."

"I didn’t know we had that many blacks in the whole county."

It took twenty minutes for Mr. Pate and Jean Gillespie to find the attorneys and bring the courtroom to order. When it was quiet, the jurors filed into their seats. There were no smiles.

Noose cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for lunch. I don’t suppose you have anything to report."

Barry Acker shook his head.

"That’s what I figured. Let’s break for lunch, until one-thirty. I realize you cannot leave the courthouse, but I want you to eat for a while without working on the case. I apologize for the disturbance outside, but, frankly, I can’t do anything about it. We’ll be in recess until one-thirty."

In chambers, Buckley went wild. "This is crazy, Judge! There’s no way the jury can concentrate on this case with all that noise out there. This is a deliberate effort to intimidate the jury."

"I don’t like it," Noose said.

"It was planned, Judge! It’s intentional!" Buckley yelled.

"It looks bad," Noose added.

"I’m almost ready for a mistrial!"

"I won’t grant one. What do you say, Jake?"

Jake grinned for a moment, and said, "Free Carl Lee."

"Very funny," Buckley growled. "You probably planned all this."

"No. If you will recall, Mr. Buckley, I tried to prevent it. I have repeatedly asked for a change of venue. I have repeatedly said the trial should not be held in this courthouse. You wanted it here, Mr. Buckley, and you kept it here, Judge Noose. You both now look foolish complaining."

Jake was impressed with his arrogance. Buckley growled and stared out the window. "Look at them. Wild niggers. Must be ten thousand out there."

During lunch the ten thousand grew to fifteen thousand. Cars from a hundred miles away-some with Tennessee plates-parked on the shoulders of the highways outside the city limits. The people hiked for two and three miles under a blistering sun to join the festivities around the courthouse. Agee broke for lunch, and the square quieted.

The blacks were peaceful. They opened their coolers and picnic baskets, and shared with each other. They congregated in the shade, but there were not enough trees to go around. They filled the courthouse in search of cold water and rest rooms. They walked the sidewalks and gazed in the windows of the closed shops and stores. Fearing trouble from the horde, the Coffee Shop and the Tea Shoppe closed during lunch. Outside of Claude’s, they lined the sidewalk for a block and a half.

Jake, Harry Rex, and Lucien relaxed on the balcony and enjoyed the circus below. A pitcher of fresh, slushy mar-garitas sat on the table and slowly disappeared. At times they participated in the rally, yelling "Free Carl Lee" or humming along with "We Shall Overcome." No one knew the words but Lucien. He had learned them during the glorious civil rights days of the sixties, and still claimed to be the only white in Ford County who knew all the words to every stanza. He had even joined a black church back then, he explained between drinks, after his church voted to exclude black members. He dropped out after a three-hour sermon ruptured a disc. He had decided white people were not cut out for that kind of worship. He still contributed, however.

Occasionally, a crew of TV people would stray near Jake’s office and serve up a question. Jake would pretend not to hear, then finally yell "Free Carl Lee."

Precisely at one-thirty, Agee found his bullhorn, unfurled his banner, lined up the ministers and gathered his marchers. He started with the hymn, sung directly into the bullhorn, and the parade crawled down Jackson, then onto Caffey, and around and around the square. Each lap attracted more people and made more noise.

The jury room was silent for fifteen minutes after Reba Betts was converted from an undecided to a not guilty. If a man raped her, she just might blow his head off if she got the chance. It was"now five to five with two undecideds, and a compromise looked hopeless. The foreman continued to straddle the fence. Poor old Eula Dell Yates had cried one way, then cried the other, and everyone knew she would eventually go with the majority. She had burst into tears at the window, and was led to her seat by Clyde Sisco. She wanted to go home. Said she felt like a prisoner.

The shouting and marching had taken its toll. When the bullhorn passed nearby, the anxiety level in the small room reached a frenzied peak. Acker would ask for quiet, and they would wait impatiently until the racket faded to the front of the courthouse. It never disappeared completely. Carol Corman was the first to inquire about their safety. For the first time in a week, the quiet motel was awfully attractive.

Three hours of nonstop chanting had unraveled whatever nerves were left. The foreman suggested they talk about their families and wait until Noose sent for them at five.

Bernice Toole, a soft guilty, suggested something they had all thought about but no one had mentioned. "Why don’t we just tell the judge we are hopelessly deadlocked?"

"He’d declare a mistrial, wouldn’t he?" asked Jo Ann Gates.

"Yes," answered the foreman. "And he would be re-

tried in a few months. Why don’t we call it a day, and try again tomorrow?"

They agreed. They were not ready to quit. Eula Dell cried softly.

At four, Carl Lee and the kids walked to one of the tall windows lining each side of the courtroom. He noticed a small knob. He turned it, and the windows swung open to a tiny platform hanging over the west lawn. He nodded at a deputy, and stepped outside. He held Tonya and watched the crowd.

They saw him. They yelled his name and rushed to the building under him. Agee led the marchers off the street and across the lawn. A wave of black humanity gathered under the small porch and pressed forward for a closer look at their champion.

"Free Carl Lee!"

He waved at his fans below him. He kissed his daughter and hugged his sons. He waved and told the kids to wave.

Jake and his small band of hombres used the diversion to stagger across the street to the courthouse. Jean Gillespie had called. Noose wanted to see the lawyers in chambers. He was disturbed. Buckley was raging.