A Time to Kill

"You can see him in a minute, Jake," he said.

"Thanks. You sure he did it?"

"Yeah, I’m sure."

"He didn’t confess, did he?"

"No, he didn’t say much of nothin’. I guess Lester coached him."

Moss walked in. "Ozzie, them reporters wanna talk to you. I said you’d be out in a minute."

"Thanks, Moss," Ozzie sighed.

"Anybody see it?" Jake asked.

Ozzie wiped his forehead with a red handkerchief. "Yeah, Looney can I.D. him. You know Murphy, the little crippled man who sweeps floors in the courthouse?"

"Sure. Stutters real bad."

"He saw the whole thing. He was sittin’ on the east stairs, directly across from where it happened. Eatin’ his lunch. Scared him so bad he couldn’t talk for an hour." Ozzie paused and eyed Jake. "Why am I tellin’ you all this?"

"What difference does it make? I’ll find out sooner or later. Where’s my man?"

"Down the hall in the jail. They gotta take his picture and all that. Be ’bout thirty minutes."

Ozzie left and Jake used his phone to call Carla and remind her to watch the news and record it. i answerin’ no questions. We have a suspect in custody. Name of Carl Lee Hailey from Ford County. Arrested for two counts of murder."

"Is he the girl’s father?"

"Yes, he is."

"How do you know he did it?"

"We’re very smart."

"Any eyewitnesses?"

"None that we know of."

"Has he confessed?"

"No."

"Where’d you find him?"

"At his house."

"Was a deputy shot?"

"Yes."

"How is he?"

"He’s fine. He’s in the hospital, but he’s okay."

"What’s his name?"

"Looney. DeWayne Looney."

"When’s the preliminary hearing?"

"I’m not the judge."

"Any idea?"

"Maybe tomorrow, maybe Wednesday. No more questions, please. I have no further information to release at this time."

The jailer took Carl Lee’s wallet, money, watch, keys, ring, and pocketknife and listed the items on an inventory form that Carl Lee signed and dated. In a small room next to the jailer’s station, he was photographed and fingerprinted, just as Lester said. Ozzie waited outside the door and led him down the hall to a small room where the drunks were taken to blow into the Intoxilyzer. Jake sat at a small table next to the machine. Ozzie excused himself.

The lawyer and client sat across the table and analyzed each other carefully. They grinned admiringly but neither spoke. They had last talked five days before, on Wednesday after the preliminary hearing, the day after the rape.

Carl Lee was not as troubled now. His face was relaxed and his eyes were clear. Finally he said: "You didn’t think I’d do it, Jake."

Chapter Five

"Not really. You did do it?"

"You know I did."

Jake smiled, nodded, and crossed his arms. "How do you feel?"

Carl Lee relaxed and sat back in the folding chair. "Well, I feel better. I don’t feel good ’bout the whole thing. I wish it didn’t happen. But I wish my girl was okay too, you know. I didn’t have nothin’ against them boys till they messed with her. Now they got what they started. I feel sorry for their mommas and daddies, if they got daddies, which I doubt."

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"How about the gas chamber?"

"Naw, Jake, that’s why I got you. I don’t plan to go to no gas chamber. I saw you get Lester off, now just get me off. You can do it, Jake."

"It’s not quite that easy, Carl Lee."

"Say what?"

"You just don’t shoot a person, or persons, in cold blood, and then tell the jury they needed killing, and expect to walk out of the courtroom."

"You did with Lester."

"But every case is different. And the big difference here is that you killed two white boys and Lester killed a nigger. Big difference."

"You scared, Jake?"

"Why should I be scared? I’m not facing the gas chamber."

"You don’t sound too confident."

You big stupid idiot, thought Jake. How could he be confident at a time like this. The bodies were still warm. Sure, he was confident before the killings, but now it was different. His client was facing the gas for a crime which he admits he committed.

"Where’d you get the gun?"

"A friend in Memphis."

"Okay. Did Lester help?"

"Nope. He knew ’bout what Fs gonna do, and he wanted to help, but I wouldn’t let him."

"How’s Gwen?"

"She’s pretty crazy right now, but tester’s with her. She didn’t know a thing about it."

"The kids?"

"You know how kids are. They don’t want their daddy in jail. They upset, but they’ll make it. Lester’ll take care of them."

"Is he going back to Chicago?"

"Not for a while. Jake, when do we go to court?"

"The preliminary should be tomorrow or Wednesday, depends on Bullard."

"Is he the judge?"

"He will be for the preliminary hearing. But he won’t hear the trial. That’ll be in Circuit Court."

"Who’s the judge there?"

"Omar Noose from Van Buren County; same judge who tried Lester."

"Good. He’s okay, ain’t he?"

"Yeah, he’s a good judge."

"When will the trial be?"

"Late summer or early fall. Buckley will push for a quick trial."

"Who’s Buckley?"

"Rufus Buckley. District attorney. Same D.A. who prosecuted Lester. You remember him. Big, loud guy-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Big bad Rufus Buckley. I’d forgot all about him. He’s pretty mean, ain’t he?"

"He’s good, very good. He’s corrupt and ambitious, and he’ll eat this up because of the publicity."

"You’ve beat him, ain’t you?"

"Yeah, and he’s beat me."

Jake opened his briefcase and removed a file. Inside was a contract for legal services, which he studied although he had it memorized. His fees were based on the ability to pay, and the blacks generally could pay little unless there was a close and generous relative in St. Louis or Chicago with a good-paying job. Those were rare. In Lester’s trial there had been a brother in California who worked for the post office but he’d been unwilling or unable to help. There were some sisters scattered around but they had their own problems and had offered only moral support for Lester. Gwen had a big family, and they stayed out of trouble, but

they were not prosperous. Carl Lee owned a few acres around his house and had mortgaged it to help Lester pay Jake before.

He had charged Lester five thousand for his murder trial; half was paid before trial and the rest in installments over three years.

Jake hated to discuss fees. It was the most difficult part of practicing law. Clients wanted to know up front, immediately, how much he would cost, and they all reacted differently. Some were shocked, some just swallowed hard, a few had stormed out of his office. Some negotiated, but most paid or promised to pay.

He studied the file and the contract and thought desperately of a fair fee. There were other lawyers out there who would take such a case for almost nothing. Nothing but publicity. He thought about the acreage, and the job at the paper mill, and the family, and finally said, "My fee is ten thousand."

Carl Lee was not moved. "You charged Lester five thousand."