A time to kill

"Where's he from?"

"Chester, Mississippi. Van Buren County."

"You mean the case will be tried here in Clanton?"

"Yes, unless venue is changed."

"Will you request a change of venue?"

"Very good question, and one I'm not prepared to answer at this time. It's a bit premature to talk defense strat-

egy."

"Why would you want a change of venue?"

To find a blacker county, Jake thought. He answered thoughtfully, "The usual reasons. Pretrial publicity, etc."

"Who makes the decision to change venue?"

"Judge Noose. The decision is within his sole discretion."

"Has bond been set?"

"No, and it probably won't be until after the indictments come down. He's entitled to a reasonable bond now, but as a matter of practice in this county bonds are not set in capital murder cases until after the indictment and arraignment in Circuit Court. At that point the bond will be set by Judge Noose."

"What can you tell us about Mr. Hailey?"

Jake relaxed and reflected a minute while the cameras continued. Another fat pitch, with a golden chance to plant some seeds. "He's thirty-seven years old. Married to the same woman for twenty years. Four kids-three boys and a girl. Nice guy with a clean record. Never been in trouble before. Decorated in Vietnam. Works fifty hours a week at the paper mill in Coleman. Pays his bills and owns a little land, does to church every Sunday with his family. Minds his own business and expects to be left alone."

"Will you allow us to talk to him?"

"Of course not."

"Wasn't his brother tried for murder several years ago?"

"He was, and he was acquitted."

"You were his attorney?"

"Yes, I was."

"You've handled several murder trials in Ford County, haven't you?"

"Three."

"How many acquittals?"

"All of them," he answered slowly.

"Doesn't the jury have several options in Mississippi?" asked the lady from Memphis.

"That's right. With a capital murder indictment, the jury

at trial can find the defendant guilty of manslaughter, which carries twenty years, or capital murder, which carries life or death as determined by the jury. And the jury can find the defendant not guilty." Jake smiled at the cameras. "Again, you're assuming he'll be indicted."

"How's the Hailey girl?"

"She's at home. Went home Sunday. She's expected to be fine."

The reporters looked at each other and searched for other questions. Jake knew this was the dangerous part, when they ran out of things to ask and began serving up screwball questions.

He stood and buttoned his coat. "Look, I appreciate you folks stopping by. I'm usually available, just give a little more notice, and I'll be glad to talk to you anytime."

They thanked him and left.

At ten Wednesday morning, in a no-frills double service at the funeral home, the rednecks buried their dead. The minister, a freshly ordained Pentecostal, struggled desperately for comforting and reassuring thoughts to lay upon the small crowd and over the two closed caskets. The service was brief with few tears.

The pickups and dirty Chevrolets moved slowly behind the single hearse as the procession left town and crawled into the country. They parked behind a small red brick church. The bodies were laid to rest one at a time at opposite ends of the tiny, overgrown cemetery. After a few additional words of inspiration, the crowd dispersed.

Cobb's parents had divorced when he was small, and his father drove from Birmingham for the funeral. After the burial he disappeared. Mrs. Cobb lived in a small, clean white frame house near the settlement of Lake Village, ten miles south of Clanton. Her other two sons and their cousins and friends gathered under an oak tree in the backyard while the women made a fuss over Mrs. Cobb. The men talked about niggers in general, and chewed Red Man and sipped whiskey, and reminisced about the other days when niggers knew their place. Now they were just pampered and protected by the government and courts. And there was

nothing white people could do. One cousin knew a friend or someone who used to be active in the Klan, and he might give him a call. Cobb's grandfather had been in the Klan long before his death, the cousin explained, and when he and Billy Ray were kids the old man would tell stories about hanging niggers in Ford and Tyler counties. What they should do was the same thing the nigger had done, but there were no volunteers. Maybe the Klan would be interested. There was a chapter farther down south near Jackson, near Nettles County, and the cousin was authorized to contact them.

The women prepared lunch. The men ate quietly, then returned to the whiskey under the shade tree. The nigger's hearing at 2:00 P.M. was mentioned, and they loaded up and drove to Clanton.