The Sacrifice (37 page)

“Who was it?” Scott asked.

“I had some words in the parking lot on Tuesday morning with a punk who smarted off to me, so we went into the woods behind the football stadium to settle it. I got in a few good licks, then one of his friends showed up and hit me in the head with a tree limb.”

“Did you report it to the principal's office?”

“This wasn't a fight on the playground in first grade,” Lester sneered. “If the principal had found out, I'm sure I'd be sitting in a cell at the youth detention center.”

“Probably,” Scott agreed. At least Lester didn't totally ignore the possible consequences of his actions. “What caused the argument?”

“The first guy started telling me what was going to happen to me in jail. I didn't want to listen to it. After the fight I went home and my grandmother called the office and told them I was sick.”

“Where is your father?” Mr. Humphrey asked.

“On the road. He'll be back this weekend.”

Scott turned to Leland Humphrey. “Can he go to court looking like this?”

“What would be your argument for a continuance?” the older lawyer asked. “He can communicate; he admits starting the fight.”

“No, the other guy smarted off to me, first,” Lester interrupted.

“Who landed the first blow?” Mr. Humphrey asked.

“I did. And the second, too. If the other guy hadn't showed up, I'd have whipped him.”

Mr. Humphrey raised his left eyebrow and looked at Scott.

“Okay,” Scott said. “A continuance is unlikely. Let's get started.”

Scott explained his basic trial strategy to Lester, who listened closely and asked a few questions. Lester's answers were passable.

“Do you see where I'm going with these questions?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. I like the part about my grandmother. She's sick all the time, and the jury won't find me guilty if it meant she would be left alone. She could die if I wasn't there to take care of her. Are you going to use her as a witness?”

“I've thought about that,” Scott said. “Does she know what you were doing on the day of the shooting?”

“I don't remember what I told her. Usually, I just leave. She can hear the door close and knows the sound of my truck.”

“Then I'm not sure her testimony would add anything to the case. She can't see anything, so she couldn't describe your clothing. Was your father in town?”

Lester hesitated. “Uh, yeah. He picked me up at the jail.”

“What had he been doing that day?”

“I'm not sure. Probably drinking beer at Vernon's Tavern. That's where he hangs out.”

“On Sunday?” Scott asked.

Lester shifted in his seat. “Oh, that's right. It's closed on Sunday.”

Scott waited. “Go ahead. Where was your father?”

“Uh, you'll have to talk to him.”

“You haven't talked about it?”

“Why should I?” Lester asked sharply. “I'm the one who got caught, not him.”

“You got caught?” Scott asked. “Caught doing what?”

Lester's face flushed. “Don't try to trick me. I was walking down the creekbank minding my own business when the cops showed up. I was so scared that I said some crazy things, and they threw me in the back of the patrol car.”

“Remember, this is trial practice. You have to choose your words carefully or the D.A. will convict you from your own mouth. Let's start from the beginning.”

Scott had a long list of questions that brought out Lester's life story in the most sympathetic way possible. He knew his client wasn't the kind of young man the women on the jury would want to take home to meet their daughters, but he hoped to awaken compassion based on his mother's abandonment. They moved to the day of the arrest.

“I'd been walking up the creek looking for some good places to fish,” Lester said. “I was going back to the truck to get my fishing rod when I was arrested.”

Scott turned to Mr. Humphrey. “Do you want to ask some questions?”

“Not yet, but I'd like to make a comment about how to testify. Lester, think before you answer. You're giving an answer before Scott has stopped talking. There's nothing wrong with waiting a second or two before you respond. That's especially important when you're being cross-examined.”

“Okay.”

Scott continued. “Did you walk down the creek all the way to the Hall's Chapel Church?”

“I avoid that church. I don't want to be around those people.”

Mr. Humphrey held up his hand. “Answer the question; don't use it as a chance to let the jury know how prejudiced you are. This is not a political trial involving your racial ideology!”

“Huh?” Lester's eyes narrowed. “I'm not sure what you mean, but I don't think separation of the races is prejudice. There are black people who believe the same way. It makes sense—”

“Mr. Humphrey is right,” Scott interrupted. “Don't look for chances to give speeches. How close did you get to the church?”

“I never saw it.”

“Did you hear anyone yelling?”

“No.”

“Did you hear any gunshots?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone else on the creekbank?”

“Only the police.”

“Why would the deputies say you were running along the creekbank?”

“I wasn't running. I'm a fast walker.”

“Were you trying to avoid them?”

“I didn't want them to hassle me. I don't trust the cops. After what's happened, I trust them less.”

Mr. Humphrey's right eyebrow shot up and he spoke up. “Leave the argument about the police to Scott. It will sound better coming from him.”

“Were you trying to avoid them?” Scott continued.

“No, sir.”

“Good. Be sure you say ‘yes, ma'am' and ‘no, ma'am' to the D.A.”

“Yes, sir,” Lester said, emphasizing the “sir.”

“But not like she's a Marine Corps drill instructor. Did you throw a gun into the stream when you saw the police?”

“No. The only thing I threw in the water was a rock.”

“Why would you do that just before the police confronted you?”

“I'd been throwing rocks up and down the stream. I was just messing around.”

“Do you own a gun?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you ever owned a gun?”

“No. I'm seventeen years old. I couldn't buy a gun if I wanted to.”

“Did you see anybody from the church that day?”

“No.”

“Did you yell anything at them from the other side of the creekbank?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you fire any shots in the water during the baptism?”

“How could I do that if I wasn't anywhere near them?” Lester asked.

“Answer the question,” Scott responded. “Take your time because the jury will be paying attention. It's your time to let them know how sincere, honest, and innocent you are.”

Lester took a breath and spoke slowly, “I did not fire any shots at anyone. I'm sorry it happened, and whoever did it should be punished because it was wrong. But these charges against me are a mistake. I'm innocent.”

Scott looked at Mr. Humphrey who nodded. “Good answer,” the older lawyer said. “That's the way to do it.”

They continued for another hour. Mr. Humphrey goaded Lester during cross-examination, but instead of blowing up, the young man paused and gave a calm answer.

“We'll get together again Friday afternoon at three-thirty,” Scott said. “Here is a list of the people in the jury pool. Read it over and make a note beside the name of anyone you know. I'd like your father to look at it, too.”

“He'll be home Saturday.”

“Just so we have the information by Monday morning when the jurors arrive.”

After Lester left, Scott and Mr. Humphrey went into the older lawyer's office. Leland tore out three pages from his legal pad and handed them to Scott.

“Here are some suggestions I jotted down during your questioning.” The older lawyer rubbed his eyebrows. “After he started taking our advice, he didn't do too badly. He's an intelligent young man.”

Scott nodded. “I know. How can he be so ignorant?”

28

There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible
as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man.

P
OLYBIUS

T
he receptionist buzzed Scott and told him there was a hand-delivered letter for him from the D.A.'s office. Correspondence from the other side of a case on the eve of trial is never good news. He quickly ripped open the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper. It was a supplemental list of witnesses who might be called by the prosecution in the case: a police officer, a detective, and Alisha Mason. Scott's eyes stopped when he saw the student's name. He had intended to talk to her at the church, but he'd focused on the adults, and she left before Scott finished eating lunch. Fortunately, he could talk to her after mock trial practice that night.

He called Lynn Davenport in the slim hope the D.A. might provide information about the additional police officers. When she answered the phone, Scott didn't make a vain effort at morning pleasantries.

“I received the names of your additional witnesses. What are they going to say?”

“You'll need to ask them,” she said curtly.

Scott bit his lower lip. “Did you tell them to cooperate with me?”

“I didn't tell them not to. That's up to them.”

Scott gave up. “Okay.”

“One other thing,” she said before he could hang up. “I have another plea offer for your client.”

“I don't think he's interested.”

“I don't care if he takes it or not, but we've talked it over with the people from the church, and if he pleads guilty to intent to inflict bodily harm, we'll recommend a six-month boot-camp program and three years probation.”

Scott sat up straighter in his chair. “What about the other charges?”

“I'll drop them.”

“And the conspiracy charge?”

“It will go away.”

“Why the change of heart?”

The D.A. gave a short laugh. “It's not my heart. It's the docket. There is a kidnapping case we'd like to move to the head of the calendar. It will take a full week to try it.”

Scott had read about the kidnapping case in the paper. Four defendants were accused of transporting illegal aliens from Mexico and working them without pay on a farm outside of town. The trial proceedings would have to be translated into Spanish, and everything would take at least twice as long.

“I'll talk to Garrison,” Scott said.

“Let me know by Friday at three o'clock.”

“He's coming in at three-thirty.”

“That will be too late. We have a conference call on the other case with Judge Teasley at 3:15. If Garrison doesn't accept, all offers will be withdrawn, and you're number one on the calendar.”

Scott put down the receiver. For the first time, he wondered if going to trial in Lester's case was the best course of action. The boot-camp program for young offenders might be good for Lester. There would be no shortage of surrogate father figures yelling orders and forcing the young man to the point of physical exhaustion so that his mind would be receptive to lessons of discipline, self-control, and commitment to a group. Among those ordering him to run faster and work harder would certainly be African-American guards who could command Lester's obedience even if they didn't gain his respect. But boot camp for Lester required something his client couldn't give—an admission of guilt.

By late that afternoon, Scott had talked briefly with the police officer and detective who had been added to the witness list. The officer had transported Lester from the YDC to the courthouse. During the trip, Lester had talked about the case. Scott cringed. A police officer couldn't question a suspect without informing him of his Miranda rights, but there was no prohibition against listening to a defendant's voluntary ramblings if he chose to open his mouth. However, Lester's story from the backseat of the car was essentially the same thing he'd told Scott and Mr. Humphrey. No harm done.

The other witness, a detective, had conducted follow-up interviews with members of the Hall's Chapel Church. He told Scott the names of the people he'd interviewed but wouldn't reveal the information obtained. Scott recognized two names from his Sunday-morning visit. Included in the list was Alisha Mason.

Finally, he left a message with Thelma Garrison that Lester needed to leave school early the following day, so he could be at Scott's office by 2 P.M.

After a hard workout at the gym, Scott was relaxed when he arrived at the school. Dustin Rawlings looked up and smiled when he saw Scott.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow night?” he asked.

Scott hadn't thought about high-school football all week. “Who are you playing?”

“Maiden. It should be a good game.”

Maiden was a tiny town with a big-time football program. During Scott's high-school career, Catawba had beaten them once in four years.

“No, I'll be getting ready for a trial that starts next week,” Scott said.

“I wish I could watch you,” Dustin replied. “It would help me prepare for the mock trial competition. Maybe if you wrote a note to Dr. Lassiter, I could get out of school.”

“Not this case,” Scott answered. “Maybe another time.”

Scott looked for Alisha Mason, but she hadn't arrived. He stepped sideways and collided with Frank Jesup.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Frank gave him a dark look and grunted, “Watch it.”

Scott stifled a comment about showing respect and moved out of the way. Frank sat down next to Janie and smiled. Scott watched the two young people chatting for a few seconds. The young man's dark hair and scowl made him look like a thunderstorm waiting to erupt with a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder. There was still no sign of Alisha when Kay called the meeting to order.