Alex Cross's Trial Part 5
THERE THEY SAT, three White Raiders facing a jury of their peers.It was a true statement in every way. Once Judge Everett Corbett cut off all objections from our side, he quickly empaneled a jury of twelve middle-aged white men who looked just like the men they would be called upon to judge."We have a jury," the judge announced, "and so we will proceed to trial. Is the prosecution prepared to begin in the morning?""Yes, Your Honor," Jonah said."And I'm sure the defense is ready.""Defense is certainly ready, Your Honor," said Maxwell Hayes Lewis."Then without further ado-" my father began.Jonah Curtis stood up and dared to interrupt him again."Your Honor, begging the court's pardon, I feel compelled to state for the record that the prosecution has not seen a fair and representative jury selection here today."My father's voice was dangerously soft. "All right. I have warned you, Mr. Curtis, and I will not warn you again. I am in charge of this trial. I am in charge of this courtroom. I have ruled that this jury is fit to serve.""But Your Honor-"Suddenly my father rose up and bellowed, "And I will not warn you again! Try me, my friend! Just try me once more! Challenge my jurisdiction again, and I will declare a mistrial here and summarily dismiss all the charges. Which, I remind you, is within my power."My father turned on his heel and swept out of the room. I knew the drill: he would walk straight into his office and pull off his robe. His clothes would be damp with sweat. I pictured him settling into his swivel chair in that office lined with law books, oak filing cabinets, diplomas, and certificates of appreciation. On his desk he permitted himself one personal touch: the sad-beautiful honeymoon photograph of him and Mama, arm in arm on the boardwalk at Biloxi.While the defendants stood shooting the breeze with their jailers, Lewis took a detour by our table."I guess they didn't teach y'all everything up in those Ivy League law schools," he said. "Down here, we believe the first responsibility of a good criminal attorney is to make friends with the judge.""Oh, they tried to teach us that," Jonah said. "I guess I just didn't do a good job of learning it.""Me either," I said. "And I've had decades of practice with the man."Loophole Lewis chuckled genially and brought out a couple of cigars from an inside pocket. "May I offer you boys a Partagas? Best quality, fresh off the boat from Havana. I'm sure you enjoyed a few of these fellows when you were down in Cuba, Ben.""No, sir," I said mildly. "We didn't have much time for smoking cigars." I was about to say more when I saw Conrad Cosgrove pushing into the courtroom through the crowd."Mr. Corbett," he said. "A messenger brought this to the house. I figured you'd want to see it right away."Conrad handed over a small envelope.On the front, in an elegant hand, were the words BENJAMIN CORBETT, PERSONAL CORRESPONDENCE.The words engraved on the back flap were just as simple: THE WHITE HOUSE."If you gentlemen will excuse me," I said. I didn't wait for an answer.
Chapter 101.
AS I WALKED down the courthouse steps, a reporter from the New Orleans Item took my elbow to ask how I thought the first day had gone."Exactly as expected," I said. "Justice will be served here." I took my arm back and kept walking.I followed the cinder path around the side of the building. The giant oak trees in the square provided the only real shade in the center of town. I felt twenty degrees cooler the moment I stepped under their branches and took a seat on a bench.I sliced the edge of the envelope with my fingernail. Inside was a single typewritten sheet on gold-embossed White House stationery.Dear Capt. Corbett,The eyes of America are upon you, and upon the proceedings in Eudora. I can a.s.sure you that with my own (four) eyes I am personally watching you and the trial at every moment.I know you will continue to do your best, and I know that you will succeed in this endeavor, as we succeeded together during the late War.Ben, know that your president is with you every inch of the way.Sincerely yours, I remainYour obt. servant,Theodore Roosevelt, Pres't.I smiled at the president's little joke about his "four eyes," but when I realized the meaning of his subsequent words, my stomach took a nervous dive. As if I didn't have enough tension to deal with, now the president of the United States was "personally watching" me "at every moment."I read the letter again and put it back in the envelope.A voice called, "Mr. Corbett, sir."I looked to both sides and saw no one.Again the voice: "Mr. Corbett? Over here, sir, behind you."
Chapter 102.
I TURNED AROUND QUICKLY to find a tall, slender colored man standing on the sidewalk. He was perhaps ten years older than me and beautifully dressed, down to the club scarf in his pocket and the jeweled pin in his necktie."May I have a word with you for a moment, sir?" he asked."Well, of course," I said. "Come have a seat.""I'm sorry, Mr. Corbett, I can't. That park is White Only."I had forgotten-or maybe I'd never realized-that the old wooden benches, the little fountain, the shade of the big old eudoras, all were reserved for the exclusive use of white Eudora.I walked across the gra.s.s to the man and extended my hand. "Ben Corbett.""I'm a correspondent for the Indianapolis Cross," he said."Ah yes," I said. "I've read your paper. Y'all have published some of the best general reports I've seen on the question of lynching.""Why, thank you, sir," he said. "I'm honored that you've heard of us.""Welcome to Eudora," I said."Oh, it's not my first time," he said. "I grew up in Eudora."I looked at him harder. I rattled around in my memory, but I couldn't place where I had seen him before."I used to work for Mr. Jenkins at the mercantile store," he said.All at once I knew him.I said. "Is that-Marcus? Is that you?"His eyes lit up. "You remember me?""I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll ever forget you, Marcus," I said.I reached out my arms and embraced him. He was surprised, but he let me do it, and even patted me on the back."You were the only one who helped my mother," I said. "You helped me get her to Dr. Frederick. If you hadn't, she might have died."Marcus told me that his family had left Eudora for the Midwest not long after the time of Mama's stroke. They wound up in central Indiana, where his father worked for a cattle farmer. Marcus went on to study English at the Negro teachers college in Gary and had landed a job with the largest colored newspaper in the state.And now, he said, he had convinced his editors to send him to Mississippi to cover the White Raiders Trial because he had a personal interest in one of the defendants. "Henry North," he said. "I knew him. You did, too.""I did?"Marcus said, "Do you remember that redheaded boy that worked with me at Jenkins' Mercantile? He helped us carry your mama out that day. That boy is Henry North."Sure, I remembered the loutish boy. He was thin and raw-boned in those days. He had said Mama was drunk, to leave her where she lay."I remember the day your mama took sick," Marcus said, "like it was yesterday. You weren't more than about seven years old, but you acted like a grown man. You answered old Sanders back like he deserved. And you helped me carry her to the doc. I always knew you were going to turn into a fine man."I was speechless. Marcus's words made me feel humble. The truth was that after years of remembering Marcus's example every day, as my mother had told me to do, I hadn't thought about him in quite a while."I've paid close attention to your law career, Mr. Corbett-helping people up in Washington, helping wherever you can. When I saw how you were turning out, I tell you, it gave me a little hope along the way."Seeing Marcus again, hearing him speak like this, gave me a transfusion of energy. As if I'd just received new blood, a whole body's worth of it.Without knowing it, I had given Marcus "a little hope along the way."And now Marcus had given me hope for the difficult murder trial that lay ahead.
Chapter 103.
AFTER CAREFUL DELIBERATION, Jonah Curtis had chosen to wear a navy blue suit, a crisp white shirt, and a bright red tie. He didn't look exactly like an American flag, but all the colors were there for the patriotic effect he intended for his opening statement to the jury."Gentlemen, I did not come to Eudora to make history," he began. "I was sent here by the Supreme Court of the state of Mississippi to seek justice. If in the name of justice you reach the verdict I truly believe you must reach, the state will ask you to a.s.sign a degree of punishment that you feel is appropriate for these crimes.""Let us begin, though, not at the ending," he said, "but at the beginning. A hot summer night. You know what that means, surely I don't have to tell you. Talking to a Mississippi man about the heat is like talking to a fish about the water."This little joke brought an involuntary smile to two or three faces among the jury."So there we are on that hot summer night. Sweltering. Down in the Quarters, inside a poor man's house."And here, on a bed in the parlor, an old man lies dying.His granddaughter is tending to him, his trembles and tremors, his rackety cough."All the men on the jury were watching him now, even those whose expressions revealed their innate distaste for a Negro attorney dressed in a suit."On the porch of this home, there are two gentlemen standing guard. These are not fighters or thugs. One is an attorney, well known to the most powerful men in our nation's capital. The other is the inventor of the Stringer Automatic Baler, the most successful businessman in Eudora-heck, let's be honest-in all of south Mississippi."There was a patter of quiet chuckling; everyone in the courtroom shot a look at L.J., beaming at this description of him."These gentlemen have come to the Quarters on this night," Jonah said, "because the dying man is their friend. They've heard rumors of trouble. They have a well-reasoned fear that some kind of tragedy is in the offing."Lord, it's hot. The old man struggles to breathe. The granddaughter cannot help the tears that come to her eyes. The old man is all she has on this earth."Then there comes a sound, the sound of hoofbeats on the road. There are men on horses, raising a cloud of dust in the darkness."A couple of the jurors looked ostentatiously bored, and a man in the back row was already dozing. But the others seemed attentive, and a few were even transfixed, as if Jonah were telling them a scary story.And that's exactly what he was doing."Suddenly, gentlemen, all is pandemonium-uproar and violence and chaos. Men firing guns everywhere. Gla.s.s flying. Women screaming. Suddenly there are men all around the house, trying to shoot their way in. Trying to kill the old man. Trying to kill his granddaughter."The old man is terrified. The young woman throws herself over him, shielding his body with her own. The a.s.sault lasts only a few minutes, but it seems like hours and hours."Jonah paused. He studied the faces of the jurors, each one in turn.Finally he spoke again, in a hushed whisper."Two men lie dead on the ground. One is a man who's been a friend and neighbor to you all, all his life-Luther Cosgrove, an employee of Mr. Stringer for nearly thirty years. He lies dead in the side yard, shot in the face by the men on horseback. The other is a much younger man from out in the county, a fellow named Jimmie Cooper, who had come to that house of his own free will that night and volunteered to stand guard over that dying old man. Jimmie Cooper lies dead on the ground in front of the house."Jonah paused and shook his head sorrowfully, as if he couldn't believe the price Jimmie and Luther had paid."But then there is a miracle," he said. "Three of the killers are arrested. For once, they are not allowed to pull on their Klan hoods and go riding off into the darkness, unmolested, unpunished. For once, there are men who are interested in capturing the killers, in bringing them to justice-in bringing them here today, to face trial before a jury of their peers. And that, of course, is where you gentlemen come into the story."He turned, pointed his finger at the defendants. "There they are. Mr. Chester Madden. Mr. Henry North. Mr. Lincoln Stephens."The defendants put on the smirk they had evidently practiced beforehand, but they couldn't hold it. Their nerves and the silence in the room got the best of them.It was now time for the most difficult, delicate portion of the opening statement. Jonah and I had spent hours in the War Room going back and forth over this part, trying to find the best way to say what he needed to say."Gentlemen, you may have noticed there is one fact I left out of my account," Jonah said. "You may think it's the most important fact of all. And that is the fact that these defendants are white men. They attacked a colored family in a colored neighborhood. One of the men they killed was white. The other was black. I didn't mention any of this to you."And do you know why? I'll tell you why-because the pursuit of justice knows no color! The pursuit of justice admits only that which is fair, and honest, and true."This case is not about race. It is not about the black versus the white. This case is much easier than that. It's a simple matter of justice."Now, as the prosecutor representing the great state of Mississippi, it will be my job to show you how these three men attacked and pillaged, how they came to the Eudora Quarters planning to kill, intending to kill. How they planned and then executed the deliberate, premeditated murder of two men on a hot, awful night in the Quarters. On a night when these three men, and all the ones who got away, were hoping that justice had taken a holiday. Well, justice has not taken a holiday here in Eudora!"I heard a sound from the jury box. Glancing over, I was astounded to see one of the jurors, old Lester Johnson, a retired teller from the First Bank of Eudora, clapping. So taken was he by Jonah's presentation that he was applauding. The sound was very loud in the room.Then there was a louder sound: the gavel coming down BANG!My father jumped to his feet. "Lester!" he shouted. "Have you lost your G.o.dd.a.m.n mind?"
Chapter 104.
"WELL, WELL, WELL," Maxwell Hayes Lewis said slowly. Then he rose from his chair to begin his opening statement.Those three words were all it took for me to realize what he was up to.Lewis was appropriating the style of Clarence Darrow, a Chicago labor lawyer renowned all over the nation as the "lawyer's lawyer." Darrow was the most effective courtroom presenter of the day, his style casual, colloquial, at times downright homey, with ample doses of country wisdom and sentiment tossed in.Lewis scratched his head, then slid his hand down, cupping his face in his hand, squeezing his cheek, as if he were sitting in his study, lost in thought.Then he appeared to notice the jury for the first time, and ambled over."Now, Mr. Curtis here says, and I quote, 'the pursuit of justice knows no color. The pursuit of justice admits only that which is fair, and honest, and true.' "He turned around and stared hard at Jonah. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Thank you for saying that, Mr. Curtis. All I have to say to that is, Amen."The jurors visibly relaxed. The lawyer had brought them to a point of tension, then eased up."But let me tell you fellows where Mr. Curtis and I are absolutely not in agreement," he said.Lewis's face was glistening with perspiration, and he hadn't been talking a minute yet. He mopped his face with a handkerchief, a gesture that afforded him a dramatic pause."We are not in agreement on the story itself. Mr. Curtis tells a tale of night riders galloping in and shooting up a house in a frenzy of violent and lawless behavior. I have another version of that story to tell you. Now, the story I have to tell you is about eight upstanding white citizens of Pike County. Three of them were wrongly accused and arrested, the three gentlemen you see before you today."But on the night in question, there were eight. They climbed up on their horses, calmly, and in a neighborly way they rode over to Abraham Cross's house. Why did they go there? Were they looking for trouble? Well, no-the trouble had already come and found them."He paused, turned around, and walked the other way along the jury box, meeting the eyes of each man in turn."Those eight men rode over that night to investigate a complaint against Mr. Cross's nephew, a Mr. Richard Cross, known as Ricky, a Negro who was suspected of molesting and raping a young white girl of the Cedar Bend community."Understand, my friends, that the prosecutor's story and this story fit together perfectly. The entire evening can be seen, from one perspective, as a gigantic misunderstanding. If the people in that house in the Quarters had not shot first and asked questions later-if they'd all been informed that they harbored a rapist in their midst, if they'd known about the a.s.sault on the girl, and the legitimate reasons my clients had for going to Mr. Cross's house that night-why, none of this would have happened."But even so, it did happen. And it is a tragedy."And yet, gentlemen, it is not murder. I am here to tell you about Abraham Cross-a dying man, according to Mr. Curtis, although just for your information he is still alive and well, and I wouldn't be surprised if you all get to meet him. I'm going to show you how Mr. Cross and his granddaughter and his hired gunmen, some of whom are in this room trying to intimidate you gentlemen here today..."As he said this he was looking directly at L. J. Stringer and me."... I will show you how this armed band of Negroes and their white friends set about to deny my clients any access at all to the suspected man. How they, in fact, attacked my clients, and sought to visit great bodily harm upon them-even though my clients had a written legal warrant deputizing them and empowering them to question the accused, they were set upon by a pack of armed men."My clients fired their own weapons, gentlemen, in self-defense. The case is simple. It's what is known in our game as 'open and shut.' My clients are facing these terrible charges, they have been jailed and denied their most basic rights as Americans, as Mississippians."You could see the jurors straightening with pride as he said this. "And all because of a story! A fable! A fiction, my friends. Mr. Jonah Curtis is a very eloquent lawyer, gentlemen, anyone can see that, but what he's telling you is nothing more than a bedtime story!"Several jurors laughed out loud."That is right, gentlemen of the jury. A bedtime story. We have two versions being told here. Mr. Curtis has told you a fairy story, and I have told you the truth. As G.o.d above knows it to be!"
Chapter 105.
"G.o.dd.a.m.n THEM, BEN. G.o.dd.a.m.n them all to h.e.l.l!"L.J. slammed his fist on the dining room table, rattling the crystal goblets. "G.o.dd.a.m.n their lying, cheating a.s.ses!"L.J. was doing all the shouting. Jonah and I were standing back, watching him scream in a way only rich men can. We didn't try to stop him or calm him down."The biggest lie of all," L.J. said, "is when he says these White Raiders had some kind of official warrant to come into that house after Ricky."Jonah looked at me. "All right, Ben, how is Lewis going to demonstrate that in a credible fashion?""Easy," I said. "He'll put Phineas Eversman on the stand.""The policeman?""Chief of police, and the only full-time officer on the force," I reminded him. "He'll put Phineas on and Phineas will lie through his teeth."Jonah looked quizzical. "I thought Eversman was on our side. Or at least neutral.""He was on our side for exactly one night," I explained. "He only arrested those men because L.J. pushed him into it. He's been looking for a way out ever since."I speared a slice of Virginia ham before pa.s.sing the platter to L.J."It didn't look like it would rain tonight, did it?" said Jonah."Not to me," L.J. replied. "Why?""That sure does sound like thunder outside," Jonah said.I walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes. First I was surprised; then I was frightened."What is it, Ben?""About thirty, forty fellows with guns," I said, "and a few with pitchforks. They appear to be just standing there, watching the house.""That's a mighty big crowd for Eudora," L.J. said."No," I said. "It's a mighty big mob."
Chapter 106.
THE MOB CAUSED US no trouble that night. For about an hour they watched us watching them through the windows, then they turned and went away. Every few minutes I peeked out the window, but the streets of Eudora stayed quiet and dark that night.The next morning the trial began in earnest. I spent a long minute studying the face of Henry Wadsworth North, trying to match the man with what I remembered of the boy on the day Mama took sick. Too many years had intervened. This sallow, blotchy-faced fat man bore only a vague resemblance to the surly kid I remembered from Jenkins' Mercantile.Jonah called his first witness: Abraham Cross.Abraham was wearing his best church suit, of speckled brown wool, and a matching fedora. He rolled in in a rickety wheelchair Moody had borrowed from a crippled neighbor of L.J.'s, a nice woman who sympathized with us."Now, Mr. Cross," Jonah said, "why don't you take us back to the night of August twenty-fifth. Tell us what you remember."Abraham nodded. "Well, sir, I was in the parlor, a-layin' in my bed, and Moody was tendin' after me-""Excuse me, sir," Jonah said. "Who is Moody?""Moody Cross. My granddaughter. She looks after me.""Thank you, sir. Please go on.""Like I say, I was a-layin' in my bed. Not quite sure if I'd been sleeping or not. But then sure enough I come awake. Sound like the cavalry done showed up outside the house. A bunch of horses, I don't know how many. And men shootin' off guns, and yellin.' Like to scared me half to death-and I don't need to be any closer to dead than I already am."Laughter rolled through the courtroom, from whites and Negroes. My father slammed down the gavel to kill it.Abraham continued telling his story in precise, unwavering detail. Without any prompting from Jonah, he pointed out and positively identified two of the defendants."That one there, I saw him through the front window," he said, pointing at the defense table.Jonah asked him to be more specific."That one on the right," he said. "Stephens. He shot Jimmie Cooper dead.""You're sure it was Mr. Stephens you saw?""No doubt about it," said Abraham. "And then that one there-Mr. Madden-he come into the parlor where I was, with another one of them Raiders. A man he called Harold.""And what did Mr. Madden do?""He says to this Harold, 'You watch this old n.i.g.g.e.r real good. Keep your gun on his neck.' Then he went back outside, Madden did.""And the one he called Harold-he stayed there with you?""Yes, he did.""Did he keep a gun on you?""Yes, sir. Up against my skull. And he grabbed Moody too. Not in a nice way.""And how did you respond to that, Mr. Cross?"Abraham scratched his old head, closed his eyes for a moment. Then he spoke."Well, sir, to tell you the truth I didn't have to respond.""And why is that?""Because a minute later, Ben Corbett come into the room, and my granddaughter Moody..."He stopped."Please continue," Jonah said."She pushed a kitchen knife into Harold's back."
Chapter 107.
"SO, LET ME SEE if I've got this straight, Mr. Cross."Maxwell Hayes Lewis stood up to begin his cross-examination of Abraham."You were lying in your living room, half asleep. Or maybe you were asleep and dreaming part of the time, you're not really certain. You woke up... or you think you woke up... you looked out that window and saw a man you thought was Mr. Stephens pulling the trigger on a pistol."Jonah said, "Your Honor-""Overruled," my father said."This is supposed to be a cross-examination," Jonah said. "Could he get to a question sometime today?""I said overruled," my father repeated."Oh, I'm asking him a question," Lewis said. "I'm asking him if I've got his story straight. Mr. Cross, you said you saw this man shooting a pistol. But in fact you never saw him shoot anyone. You never saw anyone take a bullet from Mr. Stephens's gun, did you? You can't follow the path of a bullet with your eyes.""Your Honor-""Hush." My father waved his hand as if Jonah were a fly that needed swatting. He turned to Abraham. "Answer the question. Are you sure who you saw?"Abraham worked his jaw, as if chewing a wad of tobacco. Then he spoke."I know it was Mr. Stephens shooting, 'cause I saw him clear as day. I heard Jimmie when he fell and hit the roof. I knew that's who it was 'cause I'd watched him climb up on the roof. And I saw him again, when he fell."Good for you, Abraham, I cheered silently. Give it back to him. Stick him with the truth."And that's the way you remember it?" Lewis said."Yes, sir. But not only that. That's how it was.""How is your memory these days, Mr. Cross?""Sharp as a serpent's tongue, sir," he said.That got a chuckle from the spectators.Lewis smiled too. "How old are you now, Mr. Cross, sir?""Mama always said I come into Miss'ippi the same year Miss'ippi joined up with the United States.""And Mississippi became a state in 1817," said Lewis. "So that would make you...""Eighty-nine," Abraham said. "Same as Miss'ippi."Another laugh. If the jury was anything like the audience, some of them had to be enjoying Abraham's company.Lewis ambled over to his desk, picked up a piece of paper, and carried it to the bench. "Your Honor, if it please the court, I submit article number one as physical entry and evidence, a warrant from the chief of police to search the premises of one Abraham Cross in the Eudora Quarters.""Very well," my father said. He took pleasure in sliding the doc.u.ment into the maw of his heavy iron stamp, bringing down the lever to imprint his seal and admit it into evidence.He handed the warrant back to Lewis, who carried it to Abraham."Mr. Cross, would you please take a look at this doc.u.ment?"Abraham slowly settled his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose and took the paper from Lewis."Mr. Cross, do you know how to read?"Abraham straightened up and glared at him. "I've been reading the Good Book since I was five years old.""In that case, would you please be so kind as to read that for me-the sentences printed at the top, in the heavy ink."Abraham read: ''This warrant renders unto the bearers the unchallenged right to examine all house, home, and household goods of the residence denoted below, by order of the Chief of Police in the township of Eudora, Mississippi.' "Abraham looked up at the attorney towering over his wheelchair.Lewis said, "Please read the name on the line marked 'Residence.' ""It's my name. 'Abraham Cross.' "Lewis stuck his thumbs through his suspenders, a pose exactly like the photograph of Clarence Darrow I'd seen in the American Legal Companion."Now, Mr. Cross, when have you seen this doc.u.ment before?""Never in my life," Abraham said."Are you sure about that?"Yes, sir, he said. He was sure. Lewis asked him the question five different ways. Jonah tried to object and was gaveled into silence."Didn't Mr. Stephens hand this doc.u.ment to you when he arrived at your house that night, Mr. Cross?"Ah, here we go. Jonah jumped up. Objection overruled. He seemed to have reached a silent agreement with Judge Everett Corbett: he would be allowed to keep making objections as long as he understood he would be instantly overruled on every one."Mr. Cross, isn't it true that you saw this doc.u.ment, you read it, and you threw it on the ground?""No, sir.""Didn't you tell Mr. Stephens that if he wanted to search your house, he'd have to shoot you first?""No, sir. I did not.""Are you certain?""He didn't bring no paper. They rode up and started shooting. If Mr. Stephens said he did that, he is a liar. And if you say he did it, sir, you would be a liar too."
Chapter 108.
AFTER ABRAHAM FINISHED testifying and Moody took him home to put him back to bed, Jonah challenged the admissibility of Phineas Eversman's search warrant.My father looked mildly amused. "It's a search warrant, Mr. Curtis. It looks like a thousand others that I've seen over the years," he said.Since his profane outburst in the direction of the applauding juror, I thought, my father had been unusually patient with Jonah. He must have realized how bad that eruption would look once all these " two-bit newspaper reporters" put it into print.Jonah decided to tack in another direction. "Your Honor, I know you are well aware that under the rules of civil procedure, all doc.u.ments entered as evidence must be shared with all counsel before commencement of trial," he said. "The first time I saw this was a few minutes ago."My father peered down his nose at the spectacle of a Negro lawyer daring to cite civil procedure to him. "Now, Mr. Curtis, you being from up in Jackson and all, and educated up in the North, well, I'm sure you are accustomed to practicing before the big-city courts like they have up there, with your civil procedures and all that," he said. I had seen him perform this act before: the simple country judge, working his way through the facts of the case with nothing but his good ol' horse sense. "But down here in Eudora," he went on, "we do things in a simple and logical fashion. Mr. Lewis hands me a doc.u.ment, I take a look at it. I ask myself if it looks authentic. In this case I thought it did, and I admitted it into evidence. I'm sorry you didn't get to see it earlier-Mr. Lewis, you should've showed it to him-but I'm not going to throw it away or declare a mistrial on account of a thing like that. Mr. Curtis, is that all right with you? Yes? Let's proceed."He was so folksy, so mock-reasonable, that it made my stomach queasy. It was obvious that this judge was not the least bit worried about being overturned on any appeal. That could only be because he knew there would never be an appeal: Sheriff Reese and his deputy were Klansmen, and Phineas Eversman, the only other law enforcement officer in Pike County, had crossed over to their side. The defendants would be acquitted, they would go free, and no one would ever disturb them on these murder charges again."Now, I want both sides to listen," my father said. "I'm going to recess this proceeding until tomorrow morning. Just because every reporter in America is interested in this case, doesn't mean I don't have other matters to adjudicate. This afternoon I will devote myself to the trial of a man who's been charged with public drunkenness and urination. I'm going to have to settle a fence-line dispute between a planter and one of his colored sharecroppers. And I'm going to listen to that old German butcher, Henry Kleinhenz, tell me one more time why Sam Sanders should not be allowed to sell chicken parts at the general store."He banged his gavel once."Until tomorrow, nine o'clock. Sharp."
Chapter 109.
"ALL RISE! THIS COURT stands adjourned!"My father swept out of the room. Everyone in the courtroom started talking at once, the newspaper reporters pushing through the crowd, hastening to beat each other to the telegraph stations at the depot.Through the window I saw that the sunny morning was giving way to dark-bottomed clouds. Everyone had been hoping for rain, if only to cool things off for an hour or two before the sun heated it all up again.Maxwell Hayes Lewis stepped over to the prosecution table."Mr. Curtis, gentlemen-I just want to say, I am mighty sorry for forgetting to show that search warrant to you fellows before we got started this morning."I looked him right in the eye. "Ah, Mr. Lewis, that is perfectly understandable. I'm sure you were too busy manufacturing that warrant this morning to bother showing it to us."Lewis chuckled. "Ben, I am sorry to see you have become such a cynic.""Let me tell you something, Mr. Lewis." I straightened all the way up so as to look down on him from the maximum height. "You got Phineas to fake a warrant for you, and you found some justice of the peace who was happy to sign it and postdate it, and you got my father to admit it into evidence with a wink and a nod. But Jonah has a whole bunch of witnesses who saw what your clients did that night. They saw the death and destruction. And they will testify."The affable smile disappeared from Lewis's face. He was gathering his wits for a comeback when Conrad Cosgrove burst into the near-empty courtroom, shouting."Mr. Stringer! Mr. Corbett! Come on out here, you got to see this!"I followed the others down the center aisle to the doorway. Outside, the trees in the square were swaying in the breeze from the oncoming storm. A soft patter of rain had just started to fall.Right in front of the door, in the center of the lawn fronting the courthouse, was a sight I had never witnessed before.A huge cross was planted there.And it was burning.
Chapter 110.
THAT EVENING A nervous and troubled prosecution team met for supper in the dining room of the Stringer home. Allegra, who usually took her meals with the children, decided to join us."Louie, isn't it just amazing how our Ella can turn one little handful of crabmeat into a she-crab soup worthy of Galatoire's in New Orleans?" Allegra said.I was thinking, I never knew his name was Louie. Even way back in grammar school, he was always L.J.L.J. had no time to answer. At that moment a rock exploded the gla.s.s of the window above the dining table and skipped across the room. A second rock smashed through the window beside it, then a third. Gla.s.s flew everywhere."The girls!" Allegra screamed and hurried up the stairs.I ran after L.J. into the center hall. He opened his gun cabinet and took out three rifles: one for me, one for him, one for Jonah.L.J. moved quietly along the walls of the front rooms, reaching up to cut off the gaslights so that we could see out and the people outside couldn't see in.I saw at least fifty men milling about out there. They looked like the mob from the previous night, only larger. And they were chanting:Free the Raiders!Let 'em go!Free the Raiders!Let 'em go!They carried rifles, pistols, and pitchforks, and torches to light their way. I saw some of them holding big branches they must have pulled down from the trees on their way. One man had a bullwhip he kept cracking with a pop like a pistol shot.Free the Raiders!Let 'em go!L.J. stuck his head around the window frame. "Let the jury decide who goes free," he shouted.A rock came hurtling across the veranda to shatter the porcelain urn on a pedestal behind me. Another rock crashed through a stained-gla.s.s panel beside the front door."L.J., get your head in!" Jonah cried. "Don't be a fool. Or a martyr."L.J. stood in full view of the mob, waving his arms, trying to quiet them down, but soon realized that Jonah was right. He stepped back from the window."You've got to get Allegra and the girls out of here," I said.He nodded. "I'll have Conrad hitch up the carriage. Allegra's got a sister up in Pricedale. This whole town has gone crazy."As L.J. ran from the room, Jonah turned to me. "This town was crazy long before tonight," he said.I was sorry to say that I had to agree.
Chapter 111.
JONAH AND I watched from the rear balcony as L.J.'s carriage clattered down the back drive and onto the Old Laurel Road. The crowd in front continued chanting for another half hour or so, but then the rain picked up and extinguished their torches, and their anger, at least for tonight.Before long I was seated in the ground-floor parlor with a snifter of brandy and a pot of coffee. Two of L.J.'s house-men were sweeping up the broken gla.s.s and bringing in planks to nail over the windows. Quite the sight. And quite the night.A knock came at the door. I looked up to see Nelson, one of the houseboys."There's a Miz Begley here to see you, sir," he said.I went and met Elizabeth in the front alcove. Her bonnet was glistening from the rain, and she looked uncharacteristically disheveled.She reached out and took my hand. "Oh, Ben, I was in the courtroom today," she said. "It's awful, just awful. We all see what's happening. How can I help?"I led her to L.J.'s study, toward a green damask sofa, where we sat. Elizabeth untied the bow of her bonnet and shucked it off. Her hair went flowing onto her shoulders."I want to help you Ben. Please let me in. These hangings, all of it, has got to stop. Most of us in town want it to stop.""I don't know what to say, Elizabeth. L.J. just took Allegra and their kids out of town.""Don't push me away again. Please. I live here. I have more to gain, and to lose, than you do. Ben?"After a brief silence, I told her about a plan that had been forming in my head. It was quite a daring one, and I wasn't sure if I could pull it off."Elizabeth," I said. "You already are a help to me. Just knowing that I have your support and trust means everything to me."
Chapter 112.
SINCE THE NIGHT we had convinced Phineas to arrest the White Raiders, I'd known that if this trial ever came about, winning three guilty verdicts would be close to impossible. But this was the first time I had ever considered that it might be completely impossible.I couldn't think of a way to combat all the lies, the false testimony, the faked doc.u.ments, the bigoted jurors-and, of course, the overwhelming and nearly laughable prejudice of the presiding judge.Jonah Curtis, on the other hand, seemed to be clinging to his little tiny ray of hope. He kept urging me to have the courage to stand by him; he intended to fight Loophole Lewis to the bitter end.So it was that Jonah went after every sc.r.a.p of evidence with pa.s.sion, intelligence, and no little amount of cunning. He did constant battle with my increasingly impatient father. On the third day of the trial, everyone was astonished when Judge Corbett actually upheld one of Jonah's objections. "Don't let that give you any ideas," my father growled.The next day Jonah put an emotional Conrad Cosgrove on the stand."That's right, Mr. Curtis," Conrad said, "they was at least eight of 'em coming from all directions. They never said a word, they just started shootin' everything and everybody in sight."And later: "Yes, sir, Mr. Curtis, I seen my brother Luther take that man's boot to his head at least six, seven times. Hard enough and long enough to kill him. I was standing closer to him than I am right now to you."But then Maxwell Hayes Lewis always got his chance at reb.u.t.tal."Now, Mr. Cosgrove, my dear Mr. Cosgrove, would you say that your opinion of what happened that night is influenced at all by your sorrow at the death of your brother?"Conrad pondered the question, then shook his head. "No, sir. I do feel sad that Luther is dead, but that doesn't have a thing to do with my opinion about what happened that night."It was a small trap, but Conrad had walked right into it.Loophole Lewis pounced. "So the testimony you gave to Mr. Curtis just now was your opinion, not fact?""Well, sir," Conrad said slowly, "it is my opinion, like you said, but it's based on what I saw. And that's just a fact.""But you're not absolutely certain of those facts, are you? How could you be?"Jonah climbed to his feet again. "Your Honor, Mr. Lewis is purposely trying to confuse this witness."Judge Corbett looked over his spectacles. "If the witness is so easily confused," he said, "then perhaps you made a mistake calling Mr. Cosgrove to testify in the first place."And so it went. In that steamy courtroom, ripe with the smell of sweat and Rose of Sharon eau de toilette, the good people of the Eudora Quarters took the stand and swore to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. And they did. And then Maxwell Lewis ripped them apart.One by one, Loophole Lewis plowed his way through our witness list. Whether defiant or docile when they took the stand, every one of those witnesses eventually stepped down looking foolish, stupid, or wrong.It happened every single time.At last Jonah stood up."If it please the court, the people call Miss Moody Cross to the stand."
Chapter 113.
MY G.o.d. She was dressed like a grown-up.I had never seen her wearing anything but one of the three identical white jumpers she rotated through the laundry basket so that she always appeared to be wearing the same spotlessly clean dress. Today she looked like a grown woman: a formal blue skirt, a neat white blouse. On her feet were lace-up boots polished to a high shine. She wore white gloves and a straw hat.Last night we had gone over and over the questions we would ask. "Just tell the truth," Jonah kept saying, "and everything will be fine.""What are you talking about?" she scoffed. "In that courtroom the truth ain't worth a bucket of p.i.s.s.""Charming," I said. "Try not to say that."Jonah said, "The truth is the only weapon we have, Moody. So we have to use it.""Maybe so," she said.I should have listened more carefully to that phrase of hers.Under Jonah's patient questioning, Moody told the same story her grandfather had told. The same story Cosgrove told. The same story every one of the witnesses from the Quarters had told.By the time Jonah turned to Maxwell Lewis and said, "Your witness," the gentlemen of the jury looked about ready for some dinner and a nice nap.Lewis said, "Miss Cross, are you a permanent resident of the house where your grandfather lives, over there in the Quarters?""Yes, sir, that's right. I live with him and take care of him."All morning I had been noticing that Moody sounded more mature. She had managed to hide the edge of anger that so often came into her voice. She was speaking carefully, politely."I wouldn't really call it a house, though," she added. "It's more like a shack. But we do all right.""Now, would you say your first notice of the alleged intruders on that night was when they rode up, supposedly shooting their weapons and yelling?""Oh, no, sir," she said in a very clear voice. "I would say my first notice was when Mr. North there, and Mr. Stephens, knocked on the door and showed me their search warrant."
Chapter 114.
SWEET JESUS IN heaven! Jonah and I had never discussed this with her. We had certainly never planned for her to say such a thing. But say it she had:"... and showed me their search warrant."With those words Moody changed the whole atmosphere of the courtroom and the direction of this entire murder trial.Jonah looked at me wide-eyed. Together we stared at Moody on the witness stand.I thought I detected a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt behind her serious expression. She watched Loophole Lewis swivel all the way around to shoot a goggle-eyed look at my father. She heard the defendants whispering frantically among themselves. She was aware that her words had set off a buzz of confusion in the gallery. Even the jurors had snapped to wakefulness.And Moody was enjoying every minute of it. Maybe she knew our cause was lost, and she was out to confound everybody. To confuse us. To throw the whole trial up in the air and see where the pieces came down.This was every lawyer's nightmare: the rogue witness, off on her own.My father banged his gavel several times. "Order!" The buzz subsided. "Mr. Lewis?"Lewis turned back to the witness stand. "Now, Miss Cross," he said, "every previous witness, including your grandfather, claimed that they never were presented with a search warrant that night.""I know that, sir," she said. "Papaw's getting pretty old now; he doesn't always notice everything. And when those men came with the warrant, there wasn't anybody out in front of the house except me. I was the only one."I'm sure that almost everyone else thought Maxwell Lewis looked as confident as ever, but I saw signs that he was fl.u.s.tered. He was forgetting to slouch casually against the railing of the jury box. He was standing at attention and speaking a little too quickly. His countrified Clarence Darrow lilt had all but vanished. Moody had rattled him."This is, to say the least, a most unusual bit of testimony, Miss Cross.""Why is that, sir? You-all said they came there with a search warrant. You said they showed it to us. All I'm saying is... well, that's exactly what happened."She was lying. I knew it for sure. I was with Abraham in the parlor that night, and I knew n.o.body came to the door with any warrant. All had been quiet, there was a clatter of horses, then the Raiders started shooting at anything that moved.Maxwell Lewis put on an uncomfortable smile. "All right, they showed you the warrant," he said. "And then what happened next?"Suddenly I knew where Moody was going with this, why she was lying. What she was hoping to demonstrate with her lie.d.a.m.n! It was brilliant! Why hadn't I thought of it?But of course, if I had thought of it-if I'd even asked her to do such a thing-I could have been disbarred.As it was, she was on her own."Well, sir," she said to Lewis, "I was looking over the warrant, you know, and I said, 'I still don't think y'all have the right to do this. But if that's what the paper says, I reckon we've got no choice but to let you come on in.' ""You said that?" Lewis turned to the jury, hoping they would share his skepticism.None of them even noticed. Their eyes were on Moody. She had them under her spell, and they were finally listening."Yes, sir, I did, and I no sooner got the words out of my mouth than a bunch of 'em rode up on their horses and started shootin' and yellin' and everything. Just like Papaw said.""If we can," Lewis said, "let's return to the issue of the search warrant.""Yes, sir," said Moody, as proper and polite as I had ever heard her."Now, who showed it to you?""Mr. North was the one holding the paper," she said. "And Mr. Stephens was with him.""You are absolutely certain they presented that warrant to you?""Well, yes, sir, I mean-that's what happened. Just like y'all said. Don't you believe me?"She looked the very picture of confounded innocence.Maxwell Lewis turned to my father and shrugged.My father spoke from the bench in a dangerous growl: "Moody Cross. You have sworn to tell the truth in this court. Do you understand that?""Oh, I certainly do, Your Honor, that's just what I'm doing," she said. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why me telling the truth has got y'all so confused. It's almost like you're angry at me."She even had the nerve to smile. I thought, Don't get carried away now, don't go too far. You've got them right where you want them.Before she took the stand, Moody and her grandfather had been uncooperative liars, uppity Negroes, troublemakers. Agitators defying a legal search warrant. Now they were innocent citizens who had agreed to a search of their premises and then, without warning, were unfairly and savagely attacked. For no reason at all.
Chapter 115.
THE MOMENT MOODY stepped off the witness stand, my father declared a recess until Monday.I followed Moody, L.J., and Jonah down the steps of the courthouse into a barrage of questions accompanied by that acrid gunpowdery smell of flash powder exploding. Moody moved through that crowd of newsmen like a ship slicing through a wave, holding her head up, walking straight ahead.We brushed off the last pesky reporters and walked three blocks to the Stringer house. We waited until we had Moody in the War Room before anyone spoke."What did you think you were doing?" I asked. "You got up under oath and told the biggest, fattest lie in the history of Mississippi. And all the time grinning like a fool!"She was grinning like that now. "I tried to keep the smile off my face," she said."Why didn't you tell us you were going to do that?""'Cause if I had, you'd have told me not to do it. This way I could scare the devil out of that Loophole Lewis, and your daddy the judge, and Phineas Eversman, and everybody else who was in on the lie.""But you lied in order to counter their lie," I shouted. "That's perjury!""So what?" she said. "You fight fire with fire. Lewis can't contradict me. If he does, he'll have to admit they made up that warrant out of thin air, a long time after the raid.""Oh, I understand what you were doing, all right," I said. "I just want to know what gives you the right to-""Ben," said L.J. "I don't see how this hurts us. I think it can only help."I sank onto a chair. "I think so too, as bad as that is. What do you think, Jonah?"Jonah was looking out the narrow second-floor window."It must be six-thirty. The usual mob is beginning to form," he said.Then he turned from the window and faced the three of us."So, what do you think?" I repeated."I think what Moody did was... interesting. I must say, I did enjoy watching Loophole Lewis and Judge Corbett squirming like worms on a hook..."I smiled. We had all enjoyed that sight."... but it won't make any difference," Jonah finished. "I'm afraid it won't.""Yes, it will," Moody protested. "It'll cast doubt in their minds. It'll make it seem like we tried to cooperate, and they attacked us anyway."Jonah shook his head. "Oh, Moody. Those jurors have lived here their whole lives. They don't care who's telling the truth and who's lying! The phony warrant? Some of the jurors were probably down at the town hall when Eversman was writing it up."There was silence then. A long minute of it.The chanting outside began again.Free the Raiders!Let 'em go!Moody stood and smoothed her blue skirt. She adjusted her straw hat and slipped on her white gloves."I got to go. Papaw is in bad shape. Coming to the court, he didn't hardly know who he was," she said.Without thinking about it I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Tell Abraham I'm coming out tomorrow to see about him."Jonah said, "Thank you for trying to help, Moody. From the bottom of my heart."
Chapter 116.
IT WAS TIME TO TRY OUT the plan I had concocted. Maybe it was even past time, too late. Moody and L.J. had come with me. Jonah wanted to but knew he couldn't. After all, he was representing the great state of Mississippi, and we were about to break the law in too many ways to count."Stinks bad in here," Moody said.The awful smell was everywhere, a sharp, nauseating odor, like a cross between bad patent medicine and rancid moonshine. It was the foul scent of the chemicals Scooter Willems used to develop his photographs.I had just climbed through an unlocked window, with Moody and L.J. behind me, into Scooter's old cabin off the East Point Road. Now we were in his studio, one large room with black curtains dividing it into three. The front part was a portrait studio, with a backdrop and a stool for the subject to pose on. In the middle section two large wooden tables held trays of foul-smelling chemicals. But it was in the last section that we found what we'd come for: boxes and boxes of Willems's photographs, with dozens more pinned to the walls.There was one box full of nothing but photographs of lynchings. Scooter Willems had been busy these past months. Beside that box sat a stack of postcards manufactured from the photos, souvenir pictures of hanged corpses, burned bodies, twisted victims, like the one I'd received in the mail."G.o.d Almighty," Moody said. "The man has taken pictures of everybody who ever got hanged.""Look here," said L.J., working his way along the wall. "These are all from the Bobby Burnett lynching."I held up the lantern to see."First, take a look at poor old Bobby hanging there," L.J. said. "Now look who's standing next to him. There. By his feet."There they were, plain as day in the flickering lamplight: Chester Madden and Lincoln Alexander Stephens, two of the three White Raiders on trial. They grinned up at the bloated, b.l.o.o.d.y, bursting head of Bobby Burnett.One by one I pulled the photographs down from the wall, gathering them in a manila folder I found on Scooter's desk."Look at this!" Moody exclaimed, holding a photo up to the light.I came up beside her. There was her brother Hiram, dead on the ground, with a rope around his neck. His grinning killers each had a foot on his body, as if he were a prize lion they'd slain on safari.L.J. pointed to the man on the end. "I'll be d.a.m.ned if that ain't Lester Johnson."I almost stopped breathing. "And now he sits on our jury."Then I recognized the man beside him. It was Jacob, Jacob Gill, with his foot resting on Moody's dead brother. I felt my eyes filling.Scooter Willems was nothing if not thorough. Everyone who'd ever had a hand in a lynching in this part of Mississippi had been a.s.siduously recorded, their faces plainly recognizable. Some of the lynchings were of victims I'd heard about, others were news to us.The horror increased with just about every picture. Before we were through, we'd seen the faces of many prominent Eudora citizens enjoying a night out, a night of murder and mayhem.What a record of guilt! What amazing evidence! I couldn't take the pictures down fast enough."Just put 'em all in the box," I said. "We need to get out of here.""No, y'all can stay," I heard.
Chapter 117.
THE BLACK CURTAIN was yanked aside, and the studio flooded with light. At first I couldn't make out who they were, but there were five of them. Their torches were much brighter than our lantern, and they dazzled us."I don't recall inviting any of you folks here," a voice said. That high nasal whine had to be Scooter Willems's.As he moved his torch I saw them all.Two men with guns whom I didn't recognize.Phineas Eversman, chief of police.And Senator Richard Nottingham, Elizabeth's husband."Go ahead and finish packing up," said Nottingham, waving his pistol. "Saves us having to do it."Another man stepped into the cabin. "Yeah, y'all get to work, would you?" I knew that voice. And that face. It was Jacob Gill."'Preciate you gathering 'em up for us, Ben," he said. "We were just gonna have ourselves a little evidence-burnin' party.""We knew we'd find you here," Phineas said with a smirk on his face.L.J. growled, "How did you know? Who the h.e.l.l told you we were comin' here?"There was a silence, then the others looked at Richard Nottingham. Finally he said, "My wife."The words stabbed me in the heart. I felt my throat closing and thought I might be sick."Elizabeth was spying for me. She told us every word you ever said, Corbett. She's a good girl. Thanks for keeping us up to date. It was d.a.m.n useful to Maxwell Lewis."Phineas took the box of photographs from Moody. One of the pictures caught his eye. "We don't need this one," he said.He handed it over to me. "In case you want a souvenir."It was a picture of me-half naked, hanging from a lynching tree.Scooter did a fine job with the picture. The detail was crisp; you could see every leaf on the tree. The dog licking my b.l.o.o.d.y foot, the flies swarming over my face."You always took a nice picture, Ben," said Jacob Gill.
Chapter 118.
"ALL RIGHT NOW, Ben, we tried your plan, and you might say it didn't work out so well. So now we're going to try my plan."Jonah was not in the mood to b.u.t.ter me up."You know those photographs would have worked," I said bitterly. "All right, all right, tell me your plan.""Well, it's not quite as audacious as yours. Matter of fact, it's very logical, very well thought out.""d.a.m.n it, just tell us," L.J. said."Tomorrow," Jonah said, "I want Ben to give the summation to the jury."L.J. didn't hesitate a beat before answering, "That is a fine idea.""No, it isn't," I said. "I was there on the night of the murders. I'm a witness but you've chosen not to put me on the stand. You're the one who's been telling them the story of these crimes all along. Why change now?""You know why," said L.J."Because I'm white?" I said. "That's no reason!""It never hurts," Jonah said with a faint smile. "Look, you come from here," he explained. "You know these people. The judge is your father. These jurors will trust you more than they will me. And not because you're white-because you were there. You can give a summation that comes from your heart. For G.o.d's sake, you've been lynched yourself. You have to tell them a story, Ben. They need to hear it from you."I dreaded the truth in what he was saying. The next thing he said cinched it for me:"I tried the case. I fought the case. I pled the case. But all along, even before I got here, it was always your case, Ben."
Chapter 119.
IT LOOKED AS IF half of America had come to tiny Eudora for the conclusion of the White Raiders Trial.Outside the courthouse that morning, hundreds and hundreds of spectators jammed the town square. Little boys had climbed trees for a better view of the action. Photographers muscled their tripods through the crowds, jostling for the best angles. A few of the more enterprising had bought out Russell Hardware's entire stock of ladders to get an over-the-heads-of-the-crowd view.Judge Everett Corbett had pet.i.tioned Governor Vardaman for state militiamen from Jackson to keep order. The soldiers had set up temporary wooden fences along the sidewalk in front of the courthouse to control the spectators who'd been flooding into Eudora by train, carriage, horseback, and on foot.Inside the courtroom there was no question who was in control: Judge Everett Corbett.During the course of the trial, he had expelled four colored women from the gallery for reacting too loudly. He had found three reporters in contempt of court for referring in unflattering terms to his dictatorial ways. And he had sent an old colored man to jail for shouting, "The Lord hates a liar!" during one defendant's testimony.The first thing my father did on the trial's last morning reaffirmed his imperial status."Now we are ready to deliver this case to the jury," he said. "The testimony has been pa.s.sionate on both sides. Tempers have run high. Outside interest has been remarkable by any standard. And thus, gentlemen of the jury, we have come to the crux of the matter. You have to let the facts speak for themselves. You will now hear from the prosecutor, Mr. Curtis, his last and best argument about how you'll decide. Then you'll hear the same from Mr. Lewis. And finally, it will be entirely up to you, the jury, to make your decision, as the framers of the Const.i.tution intended. Mr. Curtis?"Jonah rose with an impa.s.sive face. "Your Honor, the jury has heard quite a lot from me in this trial. More than enough, I think. So I'm going to let my colleague Mr. Benjamin Corbett deliver the summation for the state."
Chapter 120.