A Time to Kill (11 page)

The group stood silently, mesmerized by the two bodies, which, though dead, continued to spew blood. The thick smell of gunfire hung over the stairway and drifted toward the hall into the rotunda, where the deputies continued to move people toward the front door.

“Jake, you’d better leave,” Ozzie said without looking from the bodies.

“Why?”

“Just leave.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause we gotta take pictures and collect evidence and stuff, and you don’t need to be here.”

“Okay. But you don’t interrogate him out of my presence. Understand?”

Ozzie nodded.

________

The photographs were taken, the mess cleaned, the evidence gathered, the bodies removed, and two hours later Ozzie left town followed by five patrol cars. Hastings drove and led the convoy into the country, toward the lake, past Bates Grocery, onto Craft Road. The Hailey driveway was empty except for Gwen’s car, Carl Lee’s pickup, and the red Cadillac from Illinois.

Ozzie expected no trouble as the patrol cars parked in a row across the front yard, and the deputies crouched behind the open doors, watching as the sheriff walked alone to the house. He stopped. The front door opened slowly and the Hailey family emerged. Carl Lee walked to the edge of the porch with Tonya in his arms. He looked down at his friend the sheriff, and behind him at the row of cars and deputies. To his right was Gwen, and to his left were his three sons, the smallest one crying softly but the older ones brave and proud. Behind them stood Lester.

The two groups watched each other, each waiting for the other to say or do something, each wanting to avoid what was about to happen. The only sounds were the soft sniffles of the little girl, her mother, and the youngest boy.

The children had tried to understand. Their daddy had explained to them what he had just done, and why. They understood that, but they could not comprehend why he had to be arrested and taken to jail.

Ozzie kicked at a clod of dirt, occasionally glancing at the family, then at his men.

Finally, he said, “You better come with me.”

Carl Lee nodded slightly, but did not move. Gwen and the boy cried louder as Lester took the girl from her daddy. Then Carl Lee knelt before the three boys and whispered to them again that he must leave but
wouldn’t be gone long. He hugged them, and they all cried and clutched him. He turned and kissed his wife, then walked down the steps to the sheriff.

“You wanna handcuff me, Ozzie?”

“Naw, Carl Lee, just get in the car.”

8

__________

M
oss Junior Tatum, the chief deputy, and Jake talked quietly in Ozzie’s office while deputies, reserves, trusties, and other jailhouse regulars gathered in the large, cluttered workroom next to the office and waited anxiously for the arrival of the new prisoner. Two of the deputies peered through the blinds at the reporters and cameramen waiting in the parking lot between the jail and the highway. The television vans were from Memphis, Jackson, and Tupelo, and they were parked in various directions throughout the crowded lot. Moss did not like this, so he walked slowly down the sidewalk and ordered the press to regroup in a certain area, and to move the vans.

“Will you make a statement?” yelled a reporter.

“Yeah, move the vans.”

“Can you say anything about the murders?”

“Yeah, two people got killed.”

“How about the details?”

“Nope. I wasn’t there.”

“Do you have a suspect?”

“Yep.”

“Who is it?”

“I’ll tell you when the vans are moved.”

The vans were immediately moved and the cameras and microphones were bunched together near the sidewalk. Moss pointed and directed until he was satisfied, then stepped to the crowd. He calmly chewed on a toothpick and stuck both thumbs in the front belt loops, just under the overlapping belly.

“Who did it?”

“Is he under arrest?”

“Was the girl’s family involved?”

“Are both dead?”

Moss smiled and shook his head. “One at a time. Yes we have a suspect. He’s under arrest and will be here in a minute. Keep the vans outta the way. That’s all I have.” Moss walked back to the jail as they continued to call at him. He ignored them and entered the crowded workroom.

“How’s Looney?” he asked.

“Prather’s with him at the hospital. He’s fine—slight wound to the leg.”

“Yeah, that and a slight heart attack,” Moss said with a smile. The others laughed.

“Here they come!” a trusty shouted, and everyone inside moved to the windows as the line of blue lights rolled slowly into the parking lot. Ozzie drove the first car with Carl Lee seated, unhandcuffed, in the front. Hastings reclined in the back and waved at the cameras as the car passed them and continued through the crowd, past the vans and around to the rear of the jail, where Ozzie parked and the three walked casually inside. Carl Lee was given to the jailer, and Ozzie walked down the hall to his office where Jake was waiting.

“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.

Ozzie faced the microphones and cameras. “I ain’t 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.”

“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 I’s gonna do, and he wanted to help, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“How’s Gwen?”

“She’s pretty crazy right now, but Lester’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.”

Jake anticipated this. “You have three counts; Lester had one.”

“How many times can I go to the gas chamber?”

“Good point. How much can you pay?”

“I can pay a thousand now,” he said proudly. “And I’ll borrow as much as I can on my land and give it all to you.”

Jake thought a minute. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s agree on a fee. You pay a thousand now and sign a note for the rest. Borrow on your land and pay against the note.”

“How much you want?” asked Carl Lee.

“Ten thousand.”

“I’ll pay five.”

“You can pay more than that.”

“And you can do it for less than ten.”

“Okay, I can do it for nine.”

“Then I can pay six.”

“Eight?”

“Seven.”

“Can we agree on seventy-five hundred?”

“Yeah, I think I can pay that much. Depends on how much they’ll loan me on my land. You want me to pay a thousand now and sign a note for sixty-five hundred?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, you got a deal.”

Jake filled in the blanks in the contract and promissory note, and Carl Lee signed both.

“Jake, how much would you charge a man with plenty of money?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand! You serious?”

“Yep.”

“Man, that’s a lotta money. You ever get that much?”

“No, but I haven’t seen too many people on trial for murder with that kind of money.”

Carl Lee wanted to know about his bond, the grand jury, the trial, the witnesses, who would be on the jury, when could he get out of jail, could Jake speed up the trial, when could he tell his version, and a thousand other questions. Jake said they would have plenty of time to talk. He promised to call Gwen and his boss at the paper mill.

He left and Carl Lee was placed in his cell, the one next to the cell for state prisoners.