A time to kill

Lucien had taught him that fear was good; fear was an ally; that every lawyer was afraid when he stood before a new jury and presented his case. It was okay to be afraid- just don't show it. Jurors would not follow the lawyer with the quickest tongue or prettiest words. They would not follow the sharpest dresser. They would not follow a clown or court jester. They would not follow the lawyer who preached the loudest or fought the hardest. Lucien had convinced him that jurors followed the lawyer who told the truth, regardless of his looks, words, or superficial abilities. A lawyer had to be himself in the courtroom, and if he was afraid, so be it. The jurors were afraid too.

Make friends with fear, Lucien always said, because it will not go away, and it will destroy you if left uncontrolled.

The fear hit deep in his bowels, and he walked carefully downstairs to the rest room.

"How are you, boss?" Ellen asked when.he checked on her.

"Ready, I guess. We'll leave in a minute."

"There are some reporters waiting outside. I told them you had withdrawn from the case and left town."

"At this moment, I wish I had."

"Have you heard of Wendall Solomon?"

"Not right off hand."

"He's with the Southern Prisoner Defense Fund. I worked under him last summer. He's tried over a hundred capital cases all over the South. He gets so nervous before a trial he can neither eat nor sleep. His doctor gives him seda-

tives, but he's still so jumpy no one speaks to him on opening day. And that's after a hundred of these trials."

"How does your father handle it?"

"He has a couple of martinis with a Valium. Then he lies on his desk with the door locked and the lights off until it's time for court. His nerves are ragged and he's ill-tempered. Of course, a lot of that is natural."

"So you know the feeling?"

"I know it well."

"Do I look nervous?"

"You look tired. But you'll do."

Jake checked his watch. "Let's go."

The reporters on the sidewalk pounced on their prey. "No comment" he insisted as he moved slowly across the street toward the courthouse. The barrage continued.

"Is it true you plan to ask for a mistrial?"

"I can't do that until the trial starts."

"Is it true the Klan has threatened you?"

"No comment."

"Is it true you sent your family out of town until after the trial?"

Jake hesitated and glanced at the reporter. "No comment."

"What do you think of the National Guard?"

"I'm proud of them."

"Can your client get a fair trial in Ford County?"

Jake shook his head, then added, "No comment."

A deputy stood guard a few feet from where the bodies had come to rest. He pointed at Ellen. "Who's she, Jake?"

"She's harmless. She's with me."

They ran up the rear stairs. Carl Lee sat alone at the defense table, his back to the packed courtroom. Jean Gil-lespie was busy checking in jurors while deputies roamed the aisles looking for anything suspicious. Jake greeted his client warmly, taking special care to shake his hand, smile broadly at him, and put his hand on his shoulder. Ellen unpacked the briefcases and neatly arranged the files on the table.

Jake whispered to his client and looked around the courtroom. All eyes were on him. The Hailey clan sat handsomely in the front row. Jake smiled at them and nodded at Lester. Tbnya and the boys were decked out in their Sunday

clothes, and they sat between Lester and Gwen like perfect little statues. -The jurors sat across the aisle, and they were carefully studying Hailey's lawyer. Jake thought this would be a good time for the jurors to see the family, so he walked through the swinging gate in the railing and went to speak to the Haileys. He patted Gwen on the shoulder, shook hands with Lester, pinched each of the boys, and, finally, hugged Tonya, the little Hailey girl, the one who had been raped by the two rednecks who got what they deserved. The jurors watched every move of this production, and paid special attention to the little girl.

"Noose wants us in chambers," Musgrove whispered to Jake as he returned to the defense table.

Ichabod, Buckley, and the court reporter were chatting when Jake and Ellen entered chambers. Jake introduced his clerk to His Honor and Buckley and Musgrove, and to Norma Gallo, the court reporter. He explained that Ellen Roark was a third-year law student at Ole Miss who was clerking in his office, and requested that she be allowed to sit near counsel table and participate in the proceedings in chambers. Buckley had no objections. It was common practice, Noose explained, and he welcomed her.

"Preliminary matters, gentlemen?" Noose asked.

"None," said the D.A.

"Several," said Jake as he opened a file. "I want this on the record."

Norma Gallo started writing.

"First of all, I want to renew my motion for a change of venue-"

"We object," interrupted Buckley.

"Shut up, Governor!" Jake yelled. "I'm not through, and don't interrupt me again!"

Buckley and the others were startled by this loss of composure. It's all those margaritas, thought Ellen.