A Time to Kill

aureiy n was a mistake. He had seen Carl Lee only yesterday. He read the story slowly. There were few details, just a history of Mar-sharfsky’s greatest verdicts. He promised a news conference in Clanton. He said the case would present new challenges, etc. He had faith in the jurors of Ford County.

Jake slipped silently into starched khakis and a button-down. His wife was still lost somewhere deep in the bed. He would tell her later. He took the paper and drove to the office. The Coffee Shop would not be safe. At Ethel’s desk he read the story again and stared at his picture on the front page.

Lucien had a few words of comfort. He knew Marsharf-sky, or "The Shark," as he was known. He was a sleazy crook with polish and finesse. Lucien admired him.

Moss Junior led Carl Lee into Ozzie’s office, where Jake waited with a newspaper. The deputy quickly left and closed the door. Carl Lee sat on the small black vinyl couch.

Jake threw the newspaper at him. "Have you seen this?" he demanded.

Carl Lee glared at him and ignored the paper.

"Why, Carl Lee?"

"I don’t have to explain, Jake."

"Yes, you do. You didn’t have the guts to call me like a man and tell me. You let me read it in the paper. I demand an explanation."

"You wanted too much money, Jake. You’re always gripin’ over the money. Here I am sittin’ in jail and you’re bitchin’ ’bout somethin’ I can’t help."

"Money. You can’t afford to pay me. How can you afford Marsharfsky?"

"I ain’t gotta pay him."

"What!"

"You heard me. I ain’t payin’ him."

"I guess he works for free."

"Nope. Somebody else is payin’."

"Who!" Jake shouted.

"I ain’t tellin’. It ain’t none of your business, Jake."

"You’ve hired the biggest criminal lawyer in Memphis, and someone else is payin’ his bill?"

"Yep."

The NAACP, thought Jake. No, they wouldn’t hire Marsharfsky. They’ve got their own lawyers. Besides,xhe was too expensive for them. Who else?

Carl Lee took the newspaper and folded it neatly. He was ashamed, and felt bad, but the decision had been made. He had asked Ozzie to call Jake and convey the news, but the sheriff wanted no part of it. He should have called, but he was not going to apologize. He studied his picture on the front page. He liked the part about the vigilante business.

"And you’re not going to tell me who?" Jake said, somewhat quieter.

"Naw, Jake. I ain’t tellin’."

"Did you discuss it with Lester?"

The glare returned to his eyes. "Nope. He ain’t on trial, and it ain’t none of his business."

"Where is he?"

"Chicago. Left yesterday. And don’t you go call him. I’ve made up my mind, Jake."

We’ll see, Jake said to himself. Lester would find out shortly.

Jake opened the door. "That’s it. I’m fired. Just like that."

Carl Lee stared at his picture and said nothing.

Carla was eating breakfast and waiting. A reporter from Jackson had called looking for Jake, and had told her about Marsharfsky.

There were no words, just motions. He filled a cup with coffee and went to the back porch. He sipped from the steaming cup and surveyed the unkempt hedges that lined the boundary of his long and narrow backyard. A brilliant sun baked the rich green Bermuda and dried the dew, creating a sticky haze that drifted upward and hung to his shirt. The hedges and grass were waiting on their weekly grooming. He kicked off his loafers-no socks-and walked through the soggy turf to inspect a broken birdbath near a scrawny crepe myrtle, the only tree of any significance.

UC11111U Him.

He took her hand and smiled. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

He shook his head and said nothing.

"I’m sorry, Jake."

He nodded and stared at the birdbath.

"There will be other cases," she said without confidence.

"I know." He thought of Buckley, and could hear the laughter. He thought of the guys at the Coffee Shop, and vowed not to return. He thought of the cameras and reporters, and a dull pain moved through his stomach. He thought of Lester, his only hope of retrieving the case.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked.

"No. I’m not hungry. Thanks."

"Look on the bright side," she said. "We won’t be afraid to answer the phone."

"I think I’ll cut the grass," he said.

The Council of Ministers was a group of black preachers that had been formed to coordinate political activities in the black communities of Ford County. It met infrequently during the off years, but during election years it met weekly, on Sunday afternoons, to interview candidates and discuss issues, and, more importantly, to determine the benevolence of each office seeker. Deals were cut, strategies developed, money exchanged. The council had proven it could deliver the black vote. Gifts and offerings to black churches rose dramatically during elections.

The Reverend Ollie Agee called a special meeting of the council for Sunday afternoon at his church. He wrapped up his sermon early, and by 4:00 P.M. his flock had scattered when the Cadillacs and Lincolns began filling his parking lot. The meetings were secret, with only ministers who were council members invited. There were twenty-three black churches in Ford County, and twenty-two members were present when Reverend Agee called the meeting to order. The meeting would be brief, since some of the ministers, especially from the Church of Christ, would begin their evening services shortly.

The purpose of the meeting, he explained, was to organize moral, political, and financial support of Carl Lee Hai-ley, a member in good standing of his church. A legal defense fund must be established to assure the best legal representation. Another fund must be established to provide support for his family. He, Reverend Agee, would chair the fund-raising efforts, with each minister responsible for his own congregation, as usual. A special offering would be taken during the morning and evening services, starting next Sunday. Agee would use his discretion in disbursing the money to the family. Half of the proceeds would go to the defense fund. Time was important. The trial was next month. The money had to be raised quickly while the issue was hot, and the people were in a giving mood.

cuuncn unanimously agreed witn Keverend Agee. He continued.

The NAACP must become active in the Hailey case. He would not be on trial if he was white. Not in Ford County. He was on trial only because he was black, and this must be addressed by the NAACP. The national director had been called. The Memphis and Jackson chapters had promised help. Press conferences would be held. Demonstrations and marches would be important. Maybe boycotts of white-owned businesses-that was a popular tactic at the moment, and it worked with amazing results.

This must be done immediately, while the people were willing and in a giving mood. The ministers unanimously agreed and left for their evening services.

In part due to fatigue, and in part due to embarrassment, Jake slept through church. Carla fixed pancakes, and they enjoyed a long breakfast with Hanna on the patio. He ignored the Sunday papers after he found, on the front page of the second section of The Memphis Post, a full-page spread on Marsharfsky and his famous new client. The story was complete with pictures and quotes from the great lawyer. The Hailey case presented his biggest challenge, he said. Serious legal and social issues would be addressed. A novel defense would be employed, he promised. He had not lost a murder case in twelve years, he boasted. It would be difficult, but he had confidence in the wisdom and fairness of Mississippi jurors.