Scott put the paper back in the folder. Lester's words weren't literary analysis. It was his personal creed. He slid the folder across the desk to Kay.
“I don't think there is anything in there that helps me.”
“I'm not surprised.”
Scott continued, “Mr. Humphrey says that most cases are determined by the facts, not the lawyer's skill, and the public perception that a brilliant lawyer is always the difference between winning and losing is wrong. I'm a rookie, but the facts against Lester are totally circumstantial. Unless a jury believes strolling down the creekbank on a Sunday afternoon is a crime, he should be around for the rest of the school year to write reports and draw pictures in the margins of his tests.”
“What do you believe about Lester?” she asked.
Scott shrugged. “My opinion didn't go up after looking at his papers and artwork. There's no doubt he's a racist, but my opinion is not the issue. My role is to defend my client. He says he's not guilty, and I don't have any direct evidence otherwise.”
“That's why I'm not a lawyer,” Kay said bluntly.
Surprised, Scott asked, “Did you think about going to law school?”
“No, but listening to you is a good reason not to consider it in the future.”
“I understand, but due process of law has to apply to everyone to protect all of us. It sounds theoretical until you meet someone like Lester. Then you have to decide if you really believe in the Constitution.”
“So, your involvement in the case is about high ideals.”
Scott smiled. “Well, defending the Constitution isn't all that's motivating me to work hard. There is also the small matter of my competitive ego and desire to beat the arrogant assistant district attorney who is prosecuting the case.”
Kay banged a chopstick on her desk like a gavel. “Mr. Ellis, thank you for your honesty.”
The door of the classroom opened and Janie Collins walked through the door.
“I smell Chinese food,” she said.
“You just missed the last bite of rice,” Kay said.
When the mock trial session started, Scott focused his attention on the four students who would be lawyers. The more Scott was around Dustin Rawlings, the more he liked him. The young man was confident without being cocky, and it was obvious that with his positive people skills he would succeed in the future. Yvette Fisher was a bit scatterbrained and had an argumentative streak that raised its head if a witness refused to cooperate. Janie was developing nicely, and Frank was the source of both admiration and frustration.
The evening's session began with Yvette cross-examining a young man playing the Billy Bob Beerbelly role. The witness stubbornly refused to agree with Yvette's characterization of his past drinking history. It quickly became obvious that someone had been coaching Billy in an effort to protect him from a damaging cross-examination. Yvette was the first lawyer to try to crack the code.
“You must have me mixed up with my twin brother, Bob,” the witness said. “He's had a bunch of speeding tickets and a couple of DUIs.”
“I think you're the one who is confused,” Yvette shot back, shuffling through the papers on her desk and looking for the documents that proved prior convictions.
“If you're looking for papers from the court, it won't do you any good. The police are always confusing me and Bob.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Happens all the time. Even our mama can't keep us straight. She gets us confused.”
Yvette had found the papers she'd been looking for. Holding up a conviction for DUI, she said, “There's nothing confusing about this DUI conviction in March. Your blood alcohol level was at 1.8.”
“Can I see that paper?”
Yvette handed it to him. “Your name is on the top of the ticket.”
The witness squinted at the paper for several seconds before answering. “It says here William Robert Beerbelly. Billy is short for William, and Bob is short for Robert. That could be either me or Bob.”
Yvette sputtered. Scott had seen this coming about halfway through the questioning and interrupted, “Billy Bob, that's clever, but the judges may not let you get away with creating a new character. Whose idea was it to do this?”
The witness pointed at Frank who had been watching the exchange without comment.
“We were talking at lunch the other day, and Frank suggested it. Otherwise, Billy has to admit to being a big drunk who could have caused the accident.”
Scott turned to Frank. “Your theory works if you're on one side of the case. What if you have to argue the other way? How would you cross-examine Billy?”
Frank smiled. “I'm going to use another witness to blow Billy out of the water. It won't matter if he has five brothers who drink and drive.”
Scott mentally ran through the testimony of the other witnesses. He didn't see the angle. But then, he hadn't thought about Billy Bob either.
“I'll consider it, but you need to make sure you don't violate the rules against going outside the scope of the facts. The judges won't allow chaos.”
“It won't be chaotic,” Frank responded. “I understand the rules; I'm just using them to my advantage.”
When it was time to break up for the evening, Scott picked up the white sack from the Chinese restaurant. “I'll dispose of the trash properly,” he said.
Kay took out her wallet. “How much was my part?”
“No, it's on me.”
“Thanks. Next time I'll buy my own egg rolls.”
Scott left, wondering if his reluctance to share had been so transparent. He followed Frank and Janie down the steps. The two young people got in Frank's car and sped off into the night.
Alisha Mason lingered near Kay's desk until everyone else was gone.
“Mrs. Wilson,” she said, “I know it's late, but can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kay put down her brown satchel. “Sure. What is it?”
Alisha glanced back toward the door. “It's about Lester Garrison. I know one reason you and Mr. Ellis came to the church on Sunday was so he could talk to people about the shooting. He asked my cousin some questions. Is he Lester's lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Has he talked to you about what happened?”
“No, I guess a lot of his information is confidential.”
Alisha paused. “I saw something, but I'd rather not get involved.”
“Didn't the police talk to you on the day it happened?”
“Yes, but I've realized something since then and need advice from someone I trust. If I tell you something, will you repeat it to Mr. Ellis?”
Kay was Alisha's teacher, not Scott's private investigator.
“Not if you don't want me to.”
Ten minutes later, Alisha finished.
“You're positive one of the two people you saw was Lester Garrison?”
Kay asked.
“I am, now.” Alisha nodded. “When I saw Lester in the hall yesterday, he was wearing the same shirt, and it clicked.”
“Have you talked to your parents yet?” Kay asked.
“No, I spent the afternoon with a friend before coming here.”
“You need to discuss it with them. I'm not sure what your legal obligation is in this type of situation. You may want advice from a lawyer.”
“But not Mr. Ellis?”
Kay paused. “No, not him.”
Frank and Janie stopped at a fast-food restaurant for French fries and a drink.
When they sat down with their food, Janie said, “I have some good news. My father called last night. He may come for a visit in a few weeks.”
“Has he promised before and not shown up?” Frank asked.
“Yes,” Janie admitted. “Last Christmas.”
“I rest my case. You're only setting yourself up for disappointment.”
Janie nibbled a fry. “How do you think I should feel?”
“Why ask me? I don't feel anything.”
“Butâ” Janie stopped. “I mean, you have to feel something when your parents are going through a divorce.”
Frank looked straight in Janie's eyes. “No, I don't.”
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.
P
ROVERBS 13:12 (RSV)
S
cott greeted Nicky and plopped down in his chair to watch TV. He flipped through the channels, but the canned jokes on a sitcom couldn't keep his attention or make him smile. At a commercial break, he went into the kitchen and took out Nicky's leash. At the sight of the leash, the little dog shot around the corner to the front door and began jumping up and down with excitement. Scott knelt on the floor, caught Nicky in midhop, and snapped the leash onto the dog's collar.
Scott rarely took Nicky out for a walk after dark. Every shadow was a threat, and Nicky spent most of his time darting into the darkness to bark at unseen monsters, then scampering back to safety at his master's side.
Scott pushed the button on the leash and let Nicky run out to the end of the line. The dog strained for a couple of seconds trying to pry another inch of freedom before yielding to the restraint. Scott set an easy pace; he was walking for contemplation, not exercise. They soon entered one of the pools of blackness that Nicky found both fascinating and terrifying.
In the darkness, Scott thought about Kay. He was trying to be careful, but Perry Dixon's lighthearted encouragement to consider the possibilities of a relationship with the teacher struck close to home. Every time he was around her it was harder to avoid letting his mind wander unhindered into the possibilities. He didn't want to get on a roller coaster of emotions. He didn't want to make a mistake. Whether feelings for him were stirring in her was as hidden as the surrounding darkness.
Scott walked into the glow from a streetlight. A few hardy moths that had not yet succumbed to the cooling fall temperatures flew crazily back and forth. Nicky perked up and marched confidently toward the gray area that separated the light from the night. A rumble rising in his throat, the little dog strained forward to challenge the shadows. All his senses were on high alert. The decision to hold him close or let him go was in Scott's hand. He pressed the button and Nicky bounded forward into the unknown. Scott followed.
When Kay got home, she was still thinking about her conversation with Alisha. The message light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed it, and Jake's voice came into the room.
“Hey. I'm sorry about the other night. I have something I need to talk to you about. Don't call me; I'll keep trying to get in touch with you. Save your pennies. Bye.”
She listened for a few seconds to the silence at the end of the message. Married couples develop familiar sayings that communicate more than the ordinary meaning of the words used.
Save your pennies
. As teachers, Jake and Kay had never had a lot of money, and the phrase about pennies had become their shorthand way of letting each other know that they were living life together. Together, their pennies would be enough to provide what they needed.
The following day, Scott spent the morning working on other files. Until Lester's trial was over, his life would be divided into two parts:
State v. Garrison
and everything else. The tedium of reviewing a lease-purchase agreement for one of Mr. Jackson's business clients made him glad for the prospect of a day in court. He was walking out the back door to lunch when he met Mr. Humphrey coming into the building.
“Are we still on the schedule for this afternoon?” the older lawyer asked.
“Yes, sir. Lester Garrison should be here at four o'clock.”
“I was sitting in court all morning waiting for a hearing that took ten minutes,” Mr. Humphrey said. “I used the time to write out a few questions. I'm not sure about the facts, but it will give me a place to start.”
“I've prepared some cross-examination questions for you, and I know you'll spot things when you listen to him on direct.”
“How are you feeling about the case?” the older lawyer asked.
“I think I should win, and I'm afraid that I won't.”
Mr. Humphrey nodded. “That's a healthy perspective. I'll see you later this afternoon.”
Lester was scheduled to arrive at Scott's office at 3:30 P.M. At 3:45, Mr. Humphrey buzzed Scott.
“Is he here yet?” the older lawyer asked.
“No, sir. I'm sure he knows about the appointment.”
“Let me know. I don't have anything else on my calendar for the rest of the day.”
When fifteen minutes more passed, Scott called Thelma Garrison to find out if Lester had come home from school before leaving for the appointment. No answer. Then the thought crossed Scott's mind that Lester might have decided to skip town. He hadn't been in school. He had a truck. His father probably had contacts all over the country where the boy could hide out. Scott decided to tell Mr. Humphrey his suspicions and ask him what to do when the phone buzzed. It was the receptionist.
“Lester Garrison is here for his appointment.”
“Send him into the small conference room.”
Carrying the file that was growing thicker by the day, Scott went downstairs to Mr. Humphrey's office. The older lawyer was writing on a legal pad with his legs propped up on the corner of the desk.
“He's here.”
They walked into the conference room. Lester was standing with his back to the door looking at the painting of General Hoke. When he turned around, Scott stopped in his tracks.
“What happened to you?”
Lester grimaced. “I ran into a door.”
Lester's face was splotchy with bruises, and he had a long cut over his left eye. The damage was as bad as the harm from the fight at the youth detention center. The young man had either received a thorough beating or taken a quick trip through the windshield of his truck.
“Sit down and tell us,” Scott urged.
Lester slouched down. “There's nothing anybody is going to do about it. The police want to send me to jail for something I didn't do, but I doubt they'll prosecute the guys who did this to me.”