A Time to Kill

Ethel heard noises and scurried through the front door. She was grabbed by a third member of the gang, who twisted her arm tightly behind her and wrapped a huge arm around her throat. She couldn’t scream or talk or move, and was held there on the porch, terrified, watching below as the two thugs took turns with her husband. On the front sidewalk ten

feet behind the violence stood three figures, each garbed in a full, flowing, white robe with red garnishment, each with a tall, white, pointed headdress from which fell a red and white mask that loosely covered each face. They emerged from the darkness and watched over the scene as though they were the three wise men attending the manger.

After a long, agonizing minute, the beating grew monotonous. "Enough," said the ruler in the middle. The three terrorists in black ran. Ethel rushed down the steps and slumped over her battered husband. The three in white disappeared.

Jake left the hospital after midnight with Bud still alive but everyone pessimistic. Along with the broken bones he had suffered another major heart attack. Ethel had made a scene and blamed it all on Jake.

"You said there was no danger!" she screamed. "Tell that to my husband! It’s all your fault!"

He had listened to her rant and rave, and the embarrassment turned to anger. He glanced around the small waiting room at the friends and relatives. All eyes were on him. Yes, they seemed to say, it was all his fault.

Gwen called the office early Tuesday morning and the new secretary, Ellen Roark, answered the phone. She fumbled with the intercom until she broke it, then walked to the stairs and yelled: "Jake, it’s Mr. Hailey’s wife."

He slammed a book shut and angrily picked up the receiver. "Hello."

"Jake, are you busy?"

"Very. What’s on your mind?"

She started crying. "Jake, we need money. We’re broke, and the bills are past due. I haven’t paid the house note in two months and the mortgage company is callin’. I don’t know who else to turn to."

"What about your family?"

"They’re poor folks, Jake, you know that. They’ll feed us and do what they can, but they can’t make our house notes and pay the utilities."

"Have you talked to Carl Lee?"

"Not about money. Not lately. There’s not much he can do except worry, and Lord knows he’s got enough to worry about."

"What about the churches?"

"Ain’t seen a dime."

"How much do you need?"

"At least five hundred, just to catch up. I don’t know ’bout next month. I’ll guess I’ll worry then."

Nine hundred minus five hundred left Jake with four hundred dollars for a capital murder defense. That had to be a record. Four hundred dollars! He had an idea.

"Can you be at my office at two this afternoon?"

"I’ll have to bring the kids."

"That’s okay. Just be here."

"I’ll be there."

He hung up and quickly searched the phone book for Reverend Ollie Agee. He found him at the church. Jake fed him a line about meeting to discuss the Hailey trial and

covering Agee’s testimony. Said the reverend would be an important witness. Agee said he would be there at two.

The Hailey clan arrived first, and Jake seated them around the conference table. The kids remembered the room from the press conference and were awed by the long table, thick swivel chairs, and impressive rows of books. When the reverend arrived he hugged Gwen and made a fuss over the kids, especially Tonya.

"I’ll be very brief, Reverend," started Jake. "There are some things we need to discuss. For several weeks now, you and the other black ministers in this county have been raising money for the Haileys. And you’ve done a real good job. Over six thousand, I believe. I don’t know where the money is, and it’s none of my business. You offered the money to the NAACP lawyers to represent Carl Lee, but as you and I know, those lawyers won’t be involved in this case. I’m the lawyer, the only lawyer, and so far none of the money has been offered to me. I don’t expect any of it. Evidently you don’t care about what kind of defense he gets if you can’t pick his lawyer. That’s fine. I can live with that. What really bothers me, Reverend, is the fact that none, and I repeat none, of the money has been given to the Haileys. Right, Gwen?"

The empty look on her face had turned to one of amazement, then disbelief, then anger as she glared at the reverend.

"Six thousand dollars," she repeated.

"Over six thousand, at last reported count," said Jake. "And the money is lying in some bank while Carl Lee sits in jail, Gwen’s not working, the bills are past due, the only food comes from friends, and foreclosure is a few days away. Now, tell us, Reverend, what’re your plans with the money?"

Agee smiled and said with an oily voice, "That’s none of your business."

"But it’s my business!" Gwen said loudly. "You used my name and my family’s name when you raised that money, didn’t you, Reverend. I heard it myself. Told all the church folk that the love offerin’, as you called it, was for my family. I figured you had done spent the money on lawyers’ fee or somethin’ like that. And now, today, I find out you’ve got it stuck in the bank. I guess you plan to keep it."

Agee was unmoved. "Now wait a minute, Gwen. We thought the money could best be spent on Carl Lee. He declined the money when he refused to hire the NAACP lawyers. So I asked Mr. Reinfeld, the head lawyer, what to do with the money. He told me to save it because Carl Lee will need it for his appeal."

Jake cocked his head sideways and clenched his teeth. He started to rebuke this ignorant fool, but realized Agee did not understand what he was saying. Jake bit his lip.

"I don’t understand," said Gwen.

"It’s simple," said the reverend with an accommodating smile. "Mr. Reinfeld said that Carl Lee would be convicted because he didn’t hire him. So then we’ve got to appeal, right? And after Jake here loses the trial, you and Carl Lee will of course be lookin’ for another lawyer who can save his life. That’s when we’ll need Reinfeld and that’s when we’ll need the money. So you see, it’s all for Carl Lee."

Jake shook his head and silently cursed. He cursed Reinfeld more than Agee.

Gwen’s eyes flooded and she clenched her fists. "I don’t understand all that, and I don’t want to understand it. All I know is that I’m tired of beggin’ for food, tired of dependin’ on others, and tired of worryin’ about losin’ my house."

Agee looked at her sadly. "I understand, Gwen, but-"

"And if you got six thousand dollars of our money in the bank, you’re wrong not to give it to us. We’ve got enough sense to spend it right."

Carl Lee, Jr., and Jarvis stood next to their mother and comforted her. They stared at Agee.

"But it’s for Carl Lee," the reverend said.

"Good," Jake said. "Have you asked Carl Lee how he wants his money spent?"

The dirty little grin left Agee’s face and he squirmed in his chair. "Carl Lee understands what we’re doin’," he said without much conviction.

"Thank you. That’s not what I asked. Listen to me carefully. Have you asked Carl Lee how he wants his money spent?"

"I think it’s been discussed with him," Agee lied.

"Let’s see," Jake said. He stood and walked to the door leading to the small office next to the conference room. The

reverend watched nervously, almost in panic. Jake opened the door and nodded to someone. Carl Lee and Ozzie casually walked in. The kids yelled and ran to their father. Agee looked devastated.

After a few awkward minutes of hugs and kisses, Jake moved in for the kill. "Now, Reverend, why don’t you ask Carl Lee how he wants to spend his six thousand dollars."