A Time to Kill

length of the dry spell and how it was the worst in ten years. Hadn’t had a drop of rain since the third week of June. And if it didn’t let up, he could forget the cotton crop. The beans might make it, but he was worried about the cotton.

"Say, Joe Frank, I hear you got one of those jury summons for the trial next week."

"Yeah, afraid so. Who told you?"

"I don’t know. I just heard it around." tf

"I didn’t know it was public knowledge."

"Well, I guess I must’ve heard it in Clanton today. I had business at the courthouse. That’s where I heard it. It’s that nigger’s trial, you know."

"That’s what I figured."

"How do you feel about that nigger shootin’ them boys like he did?"

"I don’t blame him," inserted Lela.

"Yeah, but you can’t take the law into your own hands," explained Joe Frank to his wife. "That’s what the court system is for."

"I’ll tell you what bothers me," said Tierce, "is this insanity crap. They’re gonna say the nigger was crazy and try to get him off by insanity. Like that nut who shot Reagan. It’s a crooked way to get off. Plus it’s a lie. That nigger planned to kill them boys, and just sat there and waited on them. It was cold-blooded murder."

"What if it was your daughter, Will?" asked Lela.

"I’d let the courts handle it. When we catch a ra**st around here, especially a nigger, we generally lock him up. Parchman’s full of ra**sts who’ll never get out. This ain’t New York or California or some crazy place where criminals go free. We’ve got a good system, and old Judge Noose hands down tough sentences. You gotta let the courts handle it. Our system won’t survive if we allow people, especially niggers, to take the law into their own hands. That’s what really scares me. Suppose this nigger gets off, walks out of the courthouse a free man. Everbody in the country will know it, and the niggers will go crazy. Evertime somebody crosses a nigger, he’ll just kill him, then say he was insane, and try to get off. That’s what’s dangerous about this trial."

"You gotta keep the niggers under control," agreed Joe Frank.

"You better believe it. And if Hailey gets off, none of us will be safe. Ever nigger in this county’ll carry a gun and just look for trouble."

"I hadn’t really thought about that," admitted Joe Frank.

"I hope you do the right thing, Joe Frank. I just hope they put you in that jury box. We need some people with some sense."

"Wonder why they picked me?"

"I heard they fixed up a hundred and fifty summonses. They’re expectin’ about a hundred to show up."

"What’re my chances of gettin’ picked?"

"One in a hundred," said Lela.

"I feel better then. I really ain’t got time to serve, what with my farmin’ and all."

"We sure need you on that jury," said Tierce.

The conversation drifted to local politics and the new supervisor and what a sorry job he was doing with the roads. Darkness meant bedtime for the Perrymans. Tierce said good night and drove home. He sat at his kitchen table with a cup of coffee and reviewed the jury list. His friend Rufus would be proud. Six names had been circled on Will’s list, and he had talked to all six. He put an okay by each name. They would be good jurors, people Rufus could count on to keep law and order in Ford County. A couple had been noncommittal at first, but their good and trusted friend Will Tierce had explained justice to them and they were now ready to convict.

Rufus would be real proud. And he had promised that young Jason Tierce, a nephew, would never be tried on those dope charges.

Jake picked at the greasy pork chops and butterbeans, and watched Ellen across the table do the same thing. Lucien sat at the head of the table, ignored his food, fondled his drink, and flipped through the jury list offering comments on every name he recognized. He was drunker than normal. Most of the names he didn’t recognize, but he commented on them anyway. Ellen was amused and winked repeatedly at her boss.

He dropped the list, and knocked his fork off the table.

"Sallie!" he yelled.

"Do you know how many ACLU members are in Ford County?" he asked Ellen.

"At least eighty percent of the population," she said.

"One. Me. I was the first in history and evidently the last. These people are fools around here, Row Ark. They don’t appreciate civil liberties. They’re a bunch of right-wing knee-jerk conservative Republican fanatics, like our friend Jake here."

"That’s not true. I eat at Claude’s at least once a week," Jake said.

"So that makes you progressive?" asked Lucien.

"It makes me a radical."

"I still think you’re a Republican."

"Look, Lucien, you can talk about my wife, or my mother, or my ancestors, but don’t call me a Republican."

"You look like a Republican," said Ellen.

"Does he look like a Democrat?" Jake asked, pointing at Lucien.

"Of course. I knew he was a Democrat the moment I saw him."

"Then I’m a Republican."

"See! See!" yelled Lucien. He dropped his glass on the floor and it shattered.

"Sallie!"

"Row Ark, guess who was the third white man in Mississippi to join the NAACP?"

"Rufus Buckley," said Jake.

"Me. Lucien Wilbanks. Joined in 1967. White people thought I was crazy."

"Can you imagine," Jake said.

"Of course, black folks, or Negroes as we called them back then, thought I was crazy too. Hell, everybody thought I was crazy back then."

"Have they ever changed their minds?" Jake asked.

"Shut up, Republican. Row Ark, why don’t you move to Clanton and we’ll start us a law firm handling nothing but ACLU cases. Hell, bring your old man down from Boston and we’ll make him a partner."

"Why don’t you just go to Boston?" Jake asked.

"Why don’t you just go to hell?"

"What will we call it?" asked Ellen.

"The nut house," said Jake.

"Wilbanks, Row and Ark. Attorneys at law."

"None of whom have licenses," said Jake.

Lucien’s eyelids weighed several pounds each. His head nodded forward involuntarily. He slapped Sallie on the rear as she cleaned up his mess.

"That was a cheap shot, Jake," he said seriously.

"Row Ark," Jake said, imitating Lucien, "guess who was the last lawyer permanently disbarred by the Mississippi Supreme Court?"

Ellen gracefully smiled at both men and said nothing.

"Row Ark," Lucien said loudly, "guess who will be the next lawyer in this county to be evicted from his office?" He roared with laughter, screaming and shaking. Jake winked at her.

When he settled down, he asked, "What’s this meeting tomorrow night?"

"I want to cover the jury list with you and a few others."

"Who?"

"Harry Rex, Stan Atcavage, maybe one other."

"Where?"

"Eight o’clock. My office. No alcohol."

"It’s my office, and I’ll bring a case of whiskey if I want to. My grandfather built the building, remember?"

"How could I forget."

"Row Ark, let’s get drunk."

"No thanks, Lucien. I’ve enjoyed dinner, and the conversation, but I need to get back to Oxford."

They stood and left Lucien at the table. Jake declined the usual invitation to sit on the porch. Ellen left, and he went to his temporary room upstairs. He had promised Carla he would not sleep at home. He called her. She and Hanna were fine. Worried, but fine. He didn’t mention Bud Twitty.