A Time to Kill (22 page)

The press conference was carefully orchestrated by Jake, who marveled at his ability to manipulate the press and its willingness to be manipulated. On one side of the long conference table he sat with the three Hailey boys standing behind him. Gwen was seated to his left, Carl Lee to his right holding Tonya.

Legal etiquette forbade revealing the identity of a child rape victim, but Tonya was different. Her name, face, and age were well known because of her daddy. She had already been exposed to the world, and Jake wanted her to be seen and photographed in her best white Sunday dress sitting on her daddy’s knee. The jurors, whoever they were and wherever they lived, would be watching.

Reporters crammed into the room, which overflowed and trailed down the hall to the reception area, where Ethel rudely ordered them to sit and leave her alone. A deputy guarded the front door, and two others
sat on the rear steps. Sheriff Walls and Lester stood awkwardly behind the Haileys and their lawyer. Microphones were clustered on the table in front of Jake, and the cameras clicked and flashed under the warm television lights.

“I have a few prefatory remarks,” Jake began. “First, all questions will be answered by me. No questions are to be directed to Mr. Hailey or any member of his family. If he is asked a question, I will instruct him not to answer. Second, I would like to introduce his family. To my left is his wife, Gwen Hailey. Standing behind us are his sons, Carl Lee, Jr., Jarvis, and Robert. Behind the boys is Mr. Hailey’s brother, Lester Hailey.”

Jake paused and smiled at Tonya. “Sitting in her daddy’s lap is Tonya Hailey. Now I’ll answer questions.”

“What happened in court this morning?”

“Mr. Hailey was arraigned, he pled not guilty, and his trial was set for July 22.”

“Was there an altercation between you and the district attorney?”

“Yes. After the arraignment, Mr. Buckley approached me, grabbed my arm, and looked as if he planned to assault me when a deputy intervened.”

“What caused it?”

“Mr. Buckley has a tendency to crack under pressure.”

“Are you and Mr. Buckley friends?”

“No.”

“Will the trial be in Clanton?”

“A motion to change venue will be filed by the defense. The location of the trial will be determined by Judge Noose. No predictions.”

“Could you describe what this has done to the Hailey family?”

Jake thought a minute while the cameras rolled. He glanced at Carl Lee and Tonya. “You’re looking at a very nice family. Two weeks ago life was good and simple. There was a job at the paper mill, a little money in the bank, security, stability, church every Sunday together, a loving family. Then, for reasons known only to God, two drunk, drugged punks committed a horrible, violent act against this little ten-year-old girl. They shocked us, and made us all feel sick. They ruined her life, and the lives of her parents and family. It was too much for her father. He snapped. He broke. Now he’s in jail facing trial and the prospect of the gas chamber. The job is gone. The money is gone. The innocence is gone. The children face the possibility of growing up without their father. Their mother must now find a job to support them, and she’ll have to beg and borrow from friends and relatives in order to survive.

“To answer your question, sir, the family has been devastated and destroyed.”

Gwen began crying quietly, and Jake handed her a handkerchief.

“Are you hinting at a defense of insanity?”

“Yes.”

“Will there in fact be a plea of insanity?”

“Yes.”

“Can you prove it?”

“That will be left for the jury. We will provide them experts in the field of psychiatry.”

“Have you already consulted with these experts?”

“Yes,” lied Jake.

“Could you give us their names?”

“No, that would be inappropriate at this point.”

“We’ve heard rumors of death threats against Mr. Hailey. Could you confirm?”

“There continue to be threats against Mr. Hailey, his family, my family, the sheriff, the judge, just about everyone involved. I don’t know how serious they are.”

Carl Lee patted Tonya on the leg and looked blankly at the table. He looked scared, pitiful, and in need of sympathy. His boys looked scared too, but, according to strict orders, they stood at attention, afraid to move. Carl Lee, Jr., the oldest at fifteen, stood behind Jake. Jarvis, the middle son at thirteen, stood behind his daddy. And Robert, age eleven, stood behind his mother. They wore identical navy suits with white shirts and little red bow ties. Robert’s suit was once Carl Lee, Jr.’s, then Jarvis’s, and now his, and it looked a bit more worn than the other two. But it was clean, neatly pressed, and perfectly cuffed. The boys looked sharp. How could any juror vote to force these children to live without their father?

The press conference was a hit. Segments of it ran on the networks and local stations, both on the evening and late news. The Thursday papers ran front-page pictures of the Haileys and their lawyer.

16

__________

T
he Swede had called several times during the two weeks her husband had been in Mississippi. She didn’t trust him down there. There were old girlfriends he had confessed to. Each time she called, Lester was not around, and Gwen lied and explained that he was fishing or cutting pulpwood so they could buy groceries. Gwen was tired of lying, and Lester was tired of carousing, and they were tired of each other. When the phone rang before dawn Friday morning, Lester answered it. It was the Swede.

Two hours later the red Cadillac was parked at the jail. Moss Junior led Lester into Carl Lee’s cell. The brothers whispered above the sleep of the inmates.

“Gotta go home,” Lester mumbled, somewhat ashamed, somewhat timid.

“Why?” Carl Lee asked as if he had been expecting it.

“My wife called this mornin’. I gotta be at work tomorrow or I’m fired.”

Carl Lee nodded approvingly.

“I’m sorry, bubba. I feel bad about goin’, but I ain’t got no choice.”

“I understand. When you comin’ back?”

“When you want me back?”

“For the trial. It’ll be real hard on Gwen and the kids. Can you be back then?”

“You know I’ll be here. I got some vacation time and all. I’ll be here.”

They sat on the edge of Carl Lee’s bunk and watched each other in silence. The cell was dark and quiet. The two bunks opposite Carl Lee’s were empty.

“Man, I forgot how bad this place is,” Lester said.

“I just hope I ain’t here much longer.”

They stood and embraced, and Lester called for Moss Junior to open the cell. “I’m proud of you, bubba,” he said to his older brother, then left for Chicago.

________

Carl Lee’s second visitor of the morning was his attorney, who met him in Ozzie’s office. Jake was red eyed and irritable.

“Carl Lee, I talked to two psychiatrists in Memphis yesterday. Do you know what the minimum fee is to evaluate you for trial purposes? Do you?”

“Am I supposed to know?” asked Carl Lee.

“One thousand dollars,” Jake shouted. “One thousand dollars. Where can you find a thousand dollars?”

“I gave you all the money I got. I even offered—”

“I don’t want the deed to your land. Why? Because nobody wants to buy it, and if you can’t sell it, it’s no good. We’ve got to have cash, Carl Lee. Not for me, but for the psychiatrists.”

“Why?”

“Why!” Jake repeated in disbelief. “Why? Because I’d like to keep you away from the gas chamber, and it’s only a hundred miles from here. It’s not that far. And to do that, we’ve got to convince the jury that you were insane when you shot those boys. I can’t tell them you were crazy. You can’t tell them you were crazy. It takes a psychiatrist. An expert. A doctor. And they don’t work for free. Understand?”

Carl Lee leaned on his knees and watched a spider crawl across the dusty carpet. After twelve days in jail and two court appearances, he had had enough of the criminal justice system. He thought of the hours and minutes before the killings. What was he thinking? Sure the boys had to die. He had no regrets. But did he contemplate jail, or poverty, or lawyers, or psychiatrists? Maybe, but only in passing. Those unpleasantries were only by-products to be encountered and endured temporarily before he was set free. After the deed, the system would process him, vindicate him, and send him home to his family. It would be easy, just as Lester’s episode had been virtually painless.

But the system was not working now. It was conspiring to keep him in jail, to break him, to make orphans of his children. It seemed determined to punish him for performing an act he considered unavoidable. And now, his only ally was making demands he could not meet. His lawyer asked the impossible. His friend Jake was angry and yelling.

“Get it,” Jake shouted as he headed for the door. “Get it from your brothers and sisters, from Gwen’s family, get it from your friends, get it from your church. But get it. And as soon as possible.”

Jake slammed the door and marched out of the jail.

Carl Lee’s third visitor of the morning arrived before noon in a long black limousine with a chauffeur and Tennessee plates. It maneuvered through the small parking lot and came to rest straddling three spaces. A large black bodyguard emerged from behind the wheel and opened the door to release his boss. They strutted up the sidewalk and into the jail.

The secretary stopped typing and smiled suspiciously. “Good mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” said the smaller one, the one with the patch. “My name is Cat Bruster, and I’d like to see Sheriff Walls.”

“May I ask what for?”

“Yes ma’am. It’s regardin’ a Mr. Hailey, a resident of your fine facility.”

The sheriff heard his name mentioned, and appeared from his office to greet this infamous visitor. “Mr. Bruster, I’m Ozzie Walls.” They shook hands. The bodyguard did not move.

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff. I’m Cat Bruster, from Memphis.”

“Yes. I know who you are. Seen you in the news. What brings you to Ford County?”

“Well, I gotta buddy in bad trouble. Carl Lee Hailey, and I’m here to help.”

“Okay. Who’s he?” Ozzie asked, looking up at the bodyguard. Ozzie was six feet four, and at least five inches shorter than the bodyguard. He weighed at least three hundred pounds, most of it in his arms.

“This here is Tiny Tom,” Cat explained. “We just call him Tiny for short.”

“I see.”

“He’s sort of like a bodyguard.”

“He’s not carryin’ a gun, is he?”

“Naw, Sheriff, he don’t need a gun.”

“Fair enough. Why don’t you and Tiny step into my office?”

In the office, Tiny closed the door and stood by it while his boss took a seat across from the sheriff.

“He can sit if he wants to,” Ozzie explained to Cat.

“Naw, Sheriff, he always stands by the door. That’s the way he’s been trained.”

“Sorta like a police dog?”

“Right.”

“Fine. What’d you wanna talk about?”

Cat crossed his legs and laid a diamond-clustered hand on his knee. “Well, Sheriff, me and Carl Lee go way back. Fought together in ’Nam. We was pinned down near Da Nang, summer of ’71. I got hit in the head, and, bam!, two seconds later he got hit in the leg. Our squad disappeared, and the gooks was usin’ us for target practice. Carl Lee limped to where I’s layin’, put me on his shoulders, and ran through the gunfire to a ditch next to a trail. I hung on his back while he crawled two miles. Saved my life. He got a medal for it. You know that?”

“No.”

“It’s true. We laid next to each other in a hospital in Saigon for two months, then got our black asses outta Vietnam. Don’t plan to go back.”

Ozzie was listening intently.

“And now that my man is in trouble, I’d like to help.”

“Did he get the M-16 from you?”

Tiny grunted and Cat smiled. “Of course not.”

“Would you like to see him?”

“Why sure. It’s that easy?”

“Yep. If you can move Tiny away from that door, I’ll get him.”

Tiny stepped aside, and two minutes later Ozzie
was back with the prisoner. Cat yelled at him, hugged him, and they patted each other like boxers. Carl Lee looked awkwardly at Ozzie, who took the hint and left. Tiny again closed the door and stood guard. Carl Lee moved two chairs together so they could face each other closely and talk.

Cat spoke first. “I’m proud of you, big man, for what you did. Real proud. Why didn’t you tell me that’s why you wanted the gun?”

“Just didn’t.”

“How was it?”

“Just like ’Nam, except they couldn’t shoot back.”

“That’s the best way.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish none of this had to happen.”

“You ain’t sorry, are you?”

Carl Lee rocked in his chair and studied the ceiling. “I’d do it over, so I got no regrets about that. I just wish they hadn’t messed with my little girl. I wish she was the same. I wish none of it ever happened.”

“Right, right. It’s gotta be tough on you here.”

“I ain’t worried ’bout me. I’m real concerned with my family.”

“Right, right. How’s the wife?”

“She’s okay. She’ll make it.”

“I saw in the paper where the trial’s in July. You been in the paper more than me here lately.”

“Yeah, Cat. But you always get off. I ain’t so sure ’bout me.”

“You gotta good lawyer, don’t you?”

“Yeah. He’s good.”

Cat stood and walked around the office, admiring Ozzie’s trophies and certificates. “That’s the main reason I came to see you, my man.”

“What’s that?” Carl Lee asked, unsure of what his friend had in mind, but certain his visit had a purpose.

“Carl Lee, you know how many times I been on trial?”

“Seems like all the time.”

“Five! Five times they put me on trial. The federal boys. The state boys. The city boys. Dope, gamblin’, bribery, guns, racketeerin’, whores. You name it, and they’ve tried me for it. And you know somethin’, Carl Lee, I’ve been guilty of it all. Evertime I’ve gone to trial, I’ve been guilty as hell. You know how many times I been convicted?”

“No.”

“None! Not once have they got me. Five trials, five not guilties.”