by John Grisham
“I was simply doing my job.” As Jake told the story of finding Nickel, Harry Rex kicked back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Devastating,” he mumbled more than once.
When Jake finished, he mentioned the last set of interrogatories. Without a thought, Harry Rex said, “We are not going to mention this guy. Ever. Okay?”
“Fine with me. As long as we understand the risks.”
* * *
—
THREE MONTHS LATER, the man in the dark suit was back.
As the clerk assembled and organized the crowd of prospective jurors, and as the lawyers in their courtroom suits situated themselves around their tables and dug in for battle, and as the courthouse regulars found their places in the pews and chatted excitedly about the big trial, Sean Gilder stepped over to Jake and whispered, “We need to see the judge. It’s important.”
Jake was half expecting the usual last-minute maneuvering and was not alarmed. “What is it?”
“I’ll explain back there.”
Jake motioned for Mr. Pete, the ancient courtroom deputy, and said they needed to see Noose, who was still in chambers. Seven lawyers followed Mr. Pete out of the courtroom. They gathered before Judge Noose, who was putting on his black robe and seemed eager to start a big trial. He looked at the grim faces of Sean Gilder, Walter Sullivan, and the other lawyers, and said, “Morning, gentlemen. What’s the issue?”
Gilder was holding some papers, and he sort of waved them at His Honor. “Judge, this is a motion for a continuance that we are filing right now and asking the court to grant.”
“Grounds?”
“This may take a few moments, Judge. Perhaps we should sit down.”
Noose gestured awkwardly at the chairs around his conference table and everybody found one.
“Proceed.”
“Judge, last Friday my co-counsel, Mr. Walter Sullivan, was approached by a man who claimed to be an important witness to this accident. His name is Neal Nickel and he lives near Nashville. Mr. Sullivan?”
Walter eagerly jumped in. “Judge, the guy walked into my office and said he really needed to talk to me about the case. We had coffee and he described how he saw the Smallwood car hit the train on that terrible night. He saw it all, the perfect eyewitness.”
Jake’s heart and lungs were frozen and he felt ill. Harry Rex glared at Sullivan and wished he had a gun.
“A crucial issue here is whether or not the warning lights were working properly. The two railroad employees on the train swear they were flashing. One witness says they were not. Mr. Nickel is certain that they were working. However, for reasons he can explain, he did not approach an officer that night and, until now, has told no one about the incident. Obviously, he is an important witness, one that we should have the right to depose.”
Noose said bluntly, “Discovery is over. The deadline was months ago. Looks like you should’ve found this witness before now.”
Gilder took over. “True, Your Honor, but there is another problem. Back during discovery we filed, on time, some interrogatories, and one requested the names of all witnesses. When Mr. Brigance filed his responses, he did not mention Neal Nickel. Not a word. However, Mr. Nickel will tell you that he was approached last November by a private investigator working for a lawyer in Clanton, Mississippi. Didn’t have his name but it was most certainly not Walter Sullivan. We quickly found the investigator and he confirmed that he was hired and paid by Jake Brigance. He submitted a two-page report summarizing what Mr. Nickel had told him.”
Gilder paused, rather smugly, and looked at Jake, who was trying mightily to conjure up a believable lie that would extricate him from this catastrophe. But his brain was frozen and all efforts at creativity failed him miserably.
Gilder went on, sinking the knife deeper. “And so it’s obvious, Your Honor, that Mr. Brigance found the eyewitness, Mr. Neal Nickel, and once he realized that the witness was in no way favorable, but actually quite adverse to his cause, he conveniently tried to forget about him. He violated our rules of discovery by trying to hide a crucial witness.”
Harry Rex was far more crooked and devious than Jake, and turned to him and said, “I thought you supplemented those responses.” It was the perfect, and perhaps only, statement to interject. Answers to interrogatories were routinely amended and supplemented as more information became available.
But Harry Rex was a divorce lawyer and thus accustomed to bluffing around judges. Jake, though, was an amateur. He managed to mumble, “I thought so too.” But it was a pathetic effort and not at all believable.
Sean Gilder and Walter Sullivan both laughed, and the other three dark suits on their side of the table joined in the awful humor. Judge Noose held the motion and looked at Jake in disbelief.
Sean Gilder said, “Oh, right! I’m sure you wanted to supplement and hand us Neal Nickel, but you forgot, and you’ve been forgetting for five months now. Nice try, gentlemen. Judge, we have the right to depose this man.”
Judge Noose raised a hand and demanded silence. For a long moment, maybe two or three, or it could have been an hour as far as Jake was concerned, he read the motion for a continuance and began to slowly shake his head. Finally, he looked at Jake and said, “This appears to be a rather obvious effort on the part of the plaintiff to hide a witness. Jake?”
Jake almost said something like “Not at all, Your Honor,” but he held his tongue. If the investigator was sleazy enough to reveal the name of the lawyer who hired him, then he probably sent Sean Gilder a copy of his report. When Gilder produced it, the ax would fall. Again.
Jake shrugged and said, “Don’t know, Judge. I thought we supplemented. Must’ve been an oversight.”
Noose frowned and fired back. “That’s hard to believe, Jake. An oversight for a witness this important? Don’t feed me a line, Jake. You found a witness that you wished you hadn’t found. Then you violated a rule of discovery. I’m appalled by this.”
Not even Harry Rex could rescue him with a snappy retort. All five defense lawyers were grinning like idiots as Jake slid lower into his chair.
Noose tossed the motion onto the table and said, “Certainly, you have the right to depose this witness. Any idea where he might be?”
Quickly, Walter Sullivan said, “He left for Mexico on Saturday. For two weeks.”
Harry Rex blurted, “Courtesy of Central & Southern Railroad?”
“Hell no. It’s his vacation. And he said he’s not giving depositions down there.”
Noose waved a hand. “Enough. This complicates matters, gentlemen. I’m going to allow this witness to be deposed at a time that’s convenient for everyone, so I’ll grant the motion for a continuance.”
Gilder pounced with “Judge, I’ve also prepared a motion for sanctions. This is an egregious breach of ethics on the part of the plaintiffs’ lawyers, and it will cost money to reconvene somewhere to have a chat with Mr. Nickel. They should be required to pay for it and cover the expenses.”
Noose shrugged and said, “But you’re getting paid anyway.”
“Just double-bill them,” Harry Rex said. “Same as always.”
Jake lost his cool and said, “Why should we be required to hand over information that you couldn’t find if you’d hired the FBI? You guys sat on your asses for the first seven months and did nothing. Now you want us to feed you our work product?”
“So you admit you concealed the witness?” Gilder asked.
“No. The witness was there, at the scene and at home in Nashville. You just couldn’t find him.”
“And you violated the discovery rule?”
“It’s a bad rule and you know it. We learned that in law school. It protects lazy lawyers.”
“I resent that, Jake.”
Noose raised both hands and settled things down. He rubbed his jaw and after some serious thinking said, “Well, obv
iously, we cannot proceed today, not with such an important witness out of the country. I’ll postpone the trial and allow you gentlemen time to finish discovery. You’re dismissed.”
Jake said, “But, Judge, we should at—”
Noose cut him off with “No, Jake, nothing further. I’ve heard enough. Please, you’re all dismissed.”
The lawyers stood, some quicker than others, and filed out of chambers. At the door, Walter Sullivan said to Harry Rex, “What’re your plans with that two-million-dollar verdict?” Sean Gilder laughed.
Jake managed to step between the two before Harry Rex could throw a punch.
22
He should’ve lingered and at least attempted to offer words of explanation to Steve Smallwood, Taylor’s brother and the family’s spokesman. He should’ve given instructions to Portia, who was dumbfounded. He should’ve huddled with Harry Rex and agreed on when to meet again to curse and throw things. He should’ve said goodbye, see you later to Murray Silerberg and his team scattered throughout the courtroom. He should’ve circled back to Noose’s chambers and perhaps apologized or tried to make amends. Instead, he bolted for a side door and was out of the courthouse before most of the prospective jurors left the courtroom. He went to his car and hurried away from the square, taking the first road out of town. At the edge of Clanton he stopped at a convenience store and bought some peanuts and a soda. He had not eaten in hours. He sat by the gas pumps, ripped off his tie, then took off his coat and listened as his car phone rang. It was Portia, at the office, and he was certain she was calling about something he had no desire to deal with.
He drove south and was soon close to Lake Chatulla. He parked in a rest area on a bluff and looked at the large muddy lake. He checked the time, 9:45, and knew that Carla would be in class. He had to call her but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Well, dear, I tried to hide a crucial witness whose testimony would kill our case.”
Or: “Well, dear, those damned insurance lawyers outfoxed me again and caught me cheating with discovery.”
Or: “Well, dear, I violated the rules and now the case has been postponed. And we’re screwed!!”
He drove here and there, east and west, staying on narrow, shaded lanes that wound through the county. He finally called the office and was informed by Portia that Dumas Lee had been hanging around, smelling a story, and that Steve Smallwood had stopped by in a foul mood and was looking for answers. Lucien wasn’t in, and Jake instructed her to lock the door and take the phone off the hook.
He vowed again to get rid of the red Saab because it was so conspicuous, a veritable bull’s-eye, and at the moment the last thing he wanted was to be noticed. He wanted to take another turn and drive south for hours until he hit the Gulf. Then, maybe he would just keep going, off a pier and into the ocean. He could not remember a time in his life that he had so desperately wanted to run away. To disappear.
His phone startled him. It was Carla. He grabbed it and said hello.
“Jake, where are you? Are you okay? I just talked to Portia.”
“I’m okay, just taking a drive, trying to avoid the office.”
“She said the case has been postponed.”
“That’s it. Postponed.”
“Can you talk?”
“Not now. It’s a bad story and will take some time to go through it. I’ll be home this afternoon when you get there.”
“Okay. But you’re fine?”
“I’m not going to kill myself, Carla, if that’s what you’re worried about. Maybe I’ve thought about it, but I’m under control. I’ll see you this afternoon and explain everything.”
That was a conversation he would love to avoid. Yes, honey, I cheated, and big-time, and I got caught.
The lawyers would gather one day to depose Neal Nickel, though Sean Gilder would, as always, stall as long as possible. Now that he had the upper hand, and now that Jake would not be screaming for a trial, it would be months before that deposition took place. And Nickel would no doubt be a superb witness, well dressed and articulate and thoroughly believable. He would discredit Hank Grayson, bolster the testimony of the engineer, and lend enormous credence to the railroad’s theory that Taylor Smallwood was either asleep or thoroughly distracted when he drove into the train.
The case was over, plain and simple. The case of a lifetime, or at least a career, had just gone down the toilet, flushed by the ambitions and greed of a lawyer who deliberately sidestepped the rules and arrogantly believed he wouldn’t get caught.
The litigation loan was at $70,000.
He glanced at his watch—10:05. At that moment he should have been standing before the panel of prospective jurors. Eighty had arrived that morning and Jake knew all eighty names, knew where they lived, worked, worshipped. He knew where some were born, knew where some of their families were buried. He knew their ages, skin color, some of their children. He, Harry Rex, and Murray Silerberg had spent hours secluded in the workroom memorizing all the data the team had gathered.
There was not another decent case in his office and he was behind on his bills. He was arguing with the IRS.
A road sign pointed to Karaway, his hometown. He turned in the other direction, fearful that his mother might see him driving aimlessly around on a beautiful Monday morning in late April.
And now he was stuck with Drew Gamble and a losing case that would only drain away time and money, not to mention causing a lot of bad will around town.
* * *
—
HE DIDN’T DELIBERATELY drive through Pine Grove, but he passed the settlement anyway and was close to the Good Shepherd Bible Church before he realized it. He pulled into the gravel lot with the idea of turning around, but caught a glimpse of a woman sitting at a picnic table near the small cemetery behind the church. It was Josie Gamble, reading a book. Kiera came into view and sat near her mother.
Jake switched off his engine and decided to have a chat with two people who knew nothing of his morning’s disaster, nor would they care. As he walked over, they smiled and were obviously pleased to see him. But then Jake figured they would be happy to see any visitor.
“What brings you out here?” Josie asked.
“Just passing through,” he said as he sat across the table. An old maple tree shaded them. “How are you doing, Kiera?”
“I’m okay,” she said and blushed. Under her loose sweatshirt there were no signs of her pregnancy.
Josie said, “I’ve never known anyone to just pass through Pine Grove.”
“It happens. What are you reading?”
She folded a page in the paperback and said, “A history of ancient Greece. Pretty excitin’ stuff. Let’s just say the church’s library is rather small.”
“You read a lot?”
“Well, Jake, I think I told you that I spent two years in prison in Texas. Seven hundred and forty-one days. I read seven hundred and thirty books. When they released me I asked if I could stay two more weeks so I could average a book a day. They said no.”
“How do you read a book a day?”
“You ever spent time in prison?”
“Not yet.”
“Granted, most of them were not that thick or complicated. One day I read four Nancy Drew mysteries.”
“Still a lot of books. Do you read, Kiera?”
She shook her head and looked away.
Josie said, “When I went in I could barely read, but they had a decent education program. Got my GED and started reading. The more I read, the faster I got. We saw Drew yesterday.”
“How was that?”
“It was nice. They let us all three sit together in a little room, so we got to hug him and give him kisses, or at least I did. A lot of tears but we managed a few laughs too, didn’t we Kiera?”
She nodded and smiled but said nothing.
“It was
real sweet. They let us visit for over an hour, then ran us off. I don’t like that jail, you know?”
“You’re not supposed to like it.”
“Guess not. Now they’re talkin’ death row. They can’t really send him away, can they?”
“They’ll certainly try. I saw him last Thursday.”
“Yeah, he said you hadn’t been by in a few days, said you had a big trial comin’ up. How’d it go?”
“Is he taking his meds?”
“Says he is. Says he feels a lot better.” Her voice cracked and she covered her eyes for a moment. “He looks so little, Jake. They got him wearin’ some old faded orange coveralls, says ‘County Jail’ across the back and front, the smallest they had and still way too big. Got his sleeves and pants rolled up. Damned things just swallow him, and he just looks like a little boy because that’s what he really is. Just a kid. And now they want to put him in the gas chamber. I can’t believe this, Jake.”
Jake glanced at Kiera, who was wiping her cheeks too. These poor people.
Another car pulled into the parking lot. Josie watched it and said, “That’s Mrs. Golden, the tutor. She’s comin’ four days a week now, says Kiera is catchin’ up.”
Kiera stood and without a word walked to the door of the church and hugged Mrs. Golden, who waved at them. They went inside and closed the door.
“She’s nice to do this,” Jake said.
“I can’t believe how wonderful this church is, Jake. We live here for free. They’re feedin’ us. Mr. Thurber, who’s a foreman at the feed mill, got it worked out so I can do ten to twenty hours a week. It’s only minimum wage but I’ve worked for that before.”
“That’s good news, Josie.”
“If I have to work five jobs and do eighty hours a week I swear I’ll do it, Jake. She is not havin’ that baby and ruinin’ her life.”
