A time to kill

"Good. This is what I want you to do. I want you to pretend with me for a moment. I want you to use your imaginations. I want you to close your eyes and listen to nothing but my voice."

They obediently closed their eyes. Anything was worth a try.

Jake lay on the couch in his office and listened to Lucien tell stories about his prestigious father and grandfather, and their prestigious law firm, and all the people they screwed out of money and land.

"My inheritance was built by my promiscuous ancestors!" he yelled. "They screwed everybody they could!"

Harry Rex laughed uncontrollably. Jake had heard the stories before, but they were always funny, and different.

"What about Ethel's retarded son?" Jake asked.

"Don't talk that way about my brother," Lucien protested. "He's the brightest one in the family. Sure he's my brother. Dad hired her when she was seventeen, and believe it or not, she looked good back then. Ethel Twitry was the

hottest thing in Ford County. My dad couldn't keep his hands off her. Sickening to think about now, but it's true."

"It's disgusting," Jake said.

"She had a houseful of kids, and two of them looked just like me, especially the dunce. It was very embarrassing back then."

"What about your mother?" asked Harry Rex.

"She was one of those dignified old Southern ladies whose main concern was who had blue blood and who didn't. There's not much blue blood around here, so she . spent most of her time in Memphis trying to impress and be accepted by the cotton families. I spent a good part of my childhood at the Peabody Hotel all starched out with a little red bow tie, trying to act polished around the rich kids from Memphis. I hated it, and I didn't care much for my mother either. She knew about Ethel, but she accepted it. She told the old man to be discreet and not embarrass the family. He was discreet, and I wound up with a retarded half-brother."

"When did she die?"

"Six months before my father was killed in the plane crash."

"How'd she die?" asked Harry Rex.

"Gonorrhea. Caught it from the yard boy."

"Lucien! Seriously?"

"Cancer. Carried it for three years, but she was dignified to the very end."

"Where'd you go wrong?" Jake asked.

"I think it started in the first grade. My uncle owned the big plantation south of town, and he owned several black families. This was in the Depression, right? I spent most of my childhood there because my father was too busy right here in this office and my mother was too busy with her hot-tea-drinkers clubs. All of my playmates were black. I'd been raised by black servants. My best friend was Willie Ray Wilbanks. No kidding. My great-grandfather purchased his great-grandfather. And when the slaves were freed, most of them just kept the family name. What were they supposed to do? That's why you've got so many black Wilbankses around here. We owned all the slaves in Ford County, and most of them became Wilbankses."

"You're probably kin to some," Jake said.

"Given the proclivities of my forefathers, I'm probably kin to all of them."

The phone rang. They froze and stared at it. Jake sat up and held his breath. Harry Rex picked up the receiver, then hung up. "Wrong number," he said.

They studied each other, then smiled.

"Anyway, back to the first grade," Jake said.

"Okay. When it came time to start school, Willie Ray and the rest of my little buddies got on the bus headed for the black school. I jumped on the bus too, and the driver very carefully took my hand and made me get off. I cried and screamed, and my uncle took me home and told my mother, 'Lucien got on the nigger school bus.' She was horrified, and beat my little ass. The old man beat me too, but years later admitted it was funny. So I went to the white school where I was always the little rich kid. Everybody hated the little rich kid, especially in a poor town like Clanton. Not that I was lovable to begin with, but everyone got a kick out of hating me just because we had money. That's why I've never thought much of money. That's where the nonconformity started. In the first grade. I decided not to be like my mother because she frowned all the time and looked down on the world. And my old man was always too busy to enjoy himself. I said piss on it. I'm gonna have some fun."

Jake stretched and closed his eyes.

"Nervous?" Lucien asked.

"I just want it to be over."

The phone rang again, and Lucien grabbed it. He listened, then hung up.

"What is it?" Harry Rex demanded.

Jake sat up and glared at Lucien. The moment had arrived.

"Jean Gillespie. The jury is ready."

"Oh my God," Jake said as he rubbed his temples.

"Listen to me, Jake," Lucien lectured. "Millions of people will see what is about to happen. Keep your cool. Be careful what you say."

"What about me?" Harry Rex moaned. "I need to go vomit."

"That's strange advice coming from you, Lucien," Jake said as he buttoned Stan's coat.

"I've learned a lot. Show your class. If you win, watch what you say to the press. Be sure and thank the jury. If you lose-"