A Time for Mercy

by John Grisham

  Dyer slowly returned to the exhibit table and laid down the gun.

  “But why then? Why not wait a moment, or two? Why not wait to see if Stuart was getting up? Drew had the gun. He was armed and ready to defend himself and his sister in the event Stuart somehow managed to revive himself and come after them. Why not wait until the police arrived? Why not wait?”

  Dyer stood squarely before the jurors and looked at each one of them. “At that moment, he did not have to pull the trigger, ladies and gentlemen. But he did. And he did so because he wanted to kill Stuart Kofer. He wanted revenge for what happened to his mother. He wanted revenge for all the terrible things Stuart did to them. And revenge means premeditation, and that means the deliberate act to kill.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, premeditation equals capital murder. Enough said. I urge you to retire for your deliberations and return a just and true verdict. The only verdict that fits this crime. A verdict of guilty for the capital murder of Stuart Kofer. Thank you.”

  It was a fine closing. Well planned, to the point, persuasive, and concise, something rare for a prosecutor in a big case. Not a single juror was bored. Indeed, each one seemed to follow every word.

  “Mr. Brigance.”

  Jake stood and tossed his legal pad on the podium. He smiled at the jurors and looked at each one of them. About half watched him, the rest stared straight ahead. He began with “I don’t blame the State for asking you to downplay much of what you’ve heard. It certainly isn’t pleasant to talk about abuse, and rape, and domestic violence. They are ugly topics, awful things to discuss anywhere, especially in a courtroom with so many people listening. But I didn’t create the facts, nor did you, nor did anyone but Stuart Kofer.

  “The State tries to suggest, tries to imply, that perhaps the three Gambles are prone to embellish, to exaggerate. Seriously?” Suddenly, he raised his voice and was angry. He pointed at Kiera on the front row behind the defense table. “You see that little girl right there? Kiera Gamble, age fourteen and over seven months pregnant by Stuart Kofer? And do you think she’s exaggerating?”

  He took a deep breath and let the anger pass. “When you deliberate, look at the photo of Josie Gamble in the hospital, with her jaw shattered, her face bruised, her eyes swollen, and ask yourselves if she’s embellishing. They’re not lying to you. Quite the contrary, they could tell many more stories about the horror of living with Stuart Kofer.

  “What happened to Stuart Kofer? What happened to the local boy who joined the army and wanted to make it a career before being asked to leave? What happened to the fine young deputy known for his bravery and his involvement with the community? Where did the dark side come from? Perhaps something happened in the army. Perhaps the pressure of his work got to him? We’ll never know, I guess, but we can all agree that his loss is a tragedy.

  “His dark side. We can’t understand what makes a man, a big strong tough cop and ex-soldier, kick, hit, and slap around a woman who weighs a hundred and twenty pounds, breaking her bones, her teeth, busting her lips, knocking her unconscious, then threatening to kill her if she tells anyone. We can’t understand why Kofer physically abused and threatened a skinny little kid like Drew. We can’t understand how a man becomes a sexual predator and goes after a fourteen-year-old girl just because she’s available, because she lives in his house. Nor can we understand how a man chooses to drink himself, time and time again, into a state of raging violence and unconsciousness. We can’t understand how an officer of the law, one known to be tough on drunk drivers, could spend the whole day drinking and saturate himself with alcohol to the point of passing out, then waking up and deciding it’s okay to get behind the wheel of a car. Point-three-six.”

  Jake paused and shook his head as if disgusted by the ugliness of his own words. All twelve were staring at him, all uncomfortable at the ugliness.

  “His house. A house that became a living hell for Josie and her kids. A house they wanted so badly to leave but had nowhere to go. A house that grew more terrifying each weekend. A house that was like a powder keg, where the stress and pressure mounted day by day until it became inevitable that someone was going to get hurt. A house that was so awful that Josie’s kids were begging her to leave.

  “Now, the prosecution wants you to ignore all this, and concentrate instead on the last ten seconds of Stuart’s life. Mr. Dyer suggests that Drew should have waited. And waited. But waited for what? There was no one to help them. They had waited before for the police to come. They came all right, but they didn’t help. They had waited for weeks and months, desperately hoping that Kofer would find help and get a handle on his drinking and his temper. They had waited for hours during those long, terrifying nights, waiting for the headlights of Stuart’s car in the driveway, waiting to see if he could actually walk himself into his house, waiting for the inevitable fight. They had waited all right, and the waiting only brought them closer to disaster.

  “Okay, I’ll take the bait. Let’s talk about the last ten seconds. As his mother lay unconscious and apparently dead, and with his sister tending to her and pleading with her to wake up, and with Kofer making noises in the bedroom, my client felt a fear and a danger that was unbearable. He feared great bodily harm, even death, not only for himself but for his sister, and he had to do something. It is wrong to take those last ten seconds and dissect them here in this courtroom, some five months after the crime, and far, far removed from the horror of the scene, and say, well he should have done this or he should have done that. Not a single one of us can know or predict what we would do in a situation like that. It’s impossible.

  “However, what we do know is that we will take extraordinary measures to protect ourselves and those we love. And that’s exactly what my client did.”

  He paused and took in the stillness of the courtroom and the rapt attention from everyone watching and listening. He lowered his voice and took a step closer to the jurors. “Josie and her kids have had a chaotic life. She was very honest about her mistakes and she would do anything to go back and do it all over. They haven’t had much luck, if any. And look at them now. Drew is on trial for his life. Kiera is pregnant after being raped repeatedly. What kind of future do they have? I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, to show a little mercy, a little compassion. When you and I leave here we’ll go home and get on with our lives, and with time this trial will become a fading memory. They’re not so lucky. I plead with you for compassion, for understanding, for mercy to allow this sad little family—Drew, Kiera, Josie—the chance to rebuild their own lives. I plead with you to find Drew Allen Gamble not guilty. Thank you.”

  * * *

  —

  WHEN THE JURY was gone, Judge Noose said, “We’ll be in recess until two o’clock, at which time we’ll reconvene and check the status of the deliberations.” He tapped his gavel and disappeared.

  Jake walked over and shook hands with Lowell Dyer and D. R. Musgrove and congratulated them on a fine job. Most of the spectators drifted out of the courtroom, but some stayed, as if waiting for a quick verdict. The Kofer gang didn’t budge and whispered among themselves. Drew was led away by three deputies and taken to his holding place, the meeting room of the Van Buren County Board of Supervisors.

  Morris Finley’s mother lived on the family farm, deep in the countryside, ten miles from the courthouse. He met the defense team there for a pleasant lunch on a shaded patio with a lovely view of pastures and the pond where he had learned to swim. Mrs. Finley had been recently widowed and lived alone, and she relished the chance to throw a big lunch for Morris and his friends.

  Over grilled chicken salads and ice tea, they rehashed the closing arguments and compared notes on the facial reactions and body language of the jurors. Harry Rex ate quickly and left to get to his office in Clanton, but Lucien hung around. He had little else to do and wanted to hear the verdict. “They’re all hung up,” he said, more than once.

 
Jake couldn’t eat and was exhausted. A trial was nothing but stress, but the worst part was waiting for the jury.

  50

  The first fight was verbal, though another angry word or two and it could have easily escalated into a punching match. It erupted over lunch when John Carpenter, juror number five, and without a doubt the one most feared by the defense, resumed his aggressive push to be elected foreman. By then the deliberations were hardly an hour old and Carpenter had done most of the talking. The other eleven were already tired of him. The twelve of them sat around a long table, eating quickly, choking down sandwiches, not sure what to do next because the tension was already palpable.

  Carpenter said, “Well, does anybody else want to be foreman? I mean, look, if nobody else wants it then I’ll do the job.”

  Joey Kepner said, “I don’t think you should be the foreman, because you’re not impartial.”

  “The hell I’m not!” he shot across the table.

  “You are not impartial.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Carpenter said loudly.

  “It’s pretty obvious you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “I have not.”

  “Your mind was made up Monday,” said Lois Satterfield.

  “It was not!”

  “We heard what you said about the girl,” Joey said.

  “So what? You want the job, hell, you be the foreman, but I’m not voting for you.”

  “And I’m not voting for you!” Joey yelled. “You shouldn’t even be on the jury.”

  The two bailiffs tending to the jury stood just outside the door and looked at each other. The loud voices were easily heard and seemed to be getting louder. They opened the door, stepped quickly inside, and things were instantly silent.

  “Can we get you anything?” one bailiff asked.

  “No, we’re fine,” Carpenter said.

  “So you can speak for all of us?” Joey asked. “Just like that. You’re our self-appointed spokesman. Sir, I’d like some coffee.”

  “Sure,” said a bailiff. “Anything else?”

  Carpenter glared at Joey with hatred. They ate in silence as coffee was served. When the bailiffs left, Regina Elmore, juror number six, a thirty-eight-year-old housewife from Chester, said, “Okay, this appears to be just another boy fight. I’ll be happy to serve as foreman if that will settle things down.”

  Joey said, “Good. You have my vote. Let’s make it unanimous.”

  Carpenter shrugged and said, “Whatever.”

  One bailiff stood by the door while the other reported to Judge Noose.

  * * *

  —

  AN HOUR LATER they were yelling again. An angry male voice said, “I’ll kick your ass when this is over!” Another responded, “Why wait? Just do it now!”

  The bailiffs knocked loudly as they entered and found John Carpenter standing on one side of the table being restrained by two men. On the other side Joey Kepner was standing, red-faced and braced for hand-to-hand combat. They relaxed somewhat and stood down.

  The tension was so thick in the room that the bailiffs were eager to leave. They reported again to Judge Noose.

  * * *

  —

  AT 2:00 P.M. the lawyers and spectators gathered again. The defendant was brought in. A bailiff whispered to Jake and Lowell that the judge wanted to see them in chambers, just the two of them.

  Noose was at his conference table, without his robe, and smoking a pipe. He looked troubled as he waved the lawyers in and gestured at their seats. His first words were music to Jake’s ears.

  “Gentlemen, it appears as though the jury is at war. The bailiffs have had to break up two fights in the first three hours. I’m afraid this does not bode well for the trial.”

  Dyer’s shoulders sagged as Jake tried to suppress a smile. Neither spoke because neither had been asked to speak.

  Noose continued, “I’m going to do something that I’ve done only once in my many years on the bench. It has been frowned on by our Supreme Court but not disallowed.”

  The court reporter knocked and entered, followed by a bailiff and Regina Elmore. Noose said, “Ms. Elmore, I understand you’ve been chosen as the foreman.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. This is an informal hearing but I want the court reporter to record it all, just to have it. The lawyers, Mr. Dyer and Mr. Brigance, will not be allowed to say anything, which will be painful for them.”

  Everyone snickered. Ha, ha. How clever. Regina appeared rattled and uncertain.

  “Now, I don’t want you to name names, or to tell us how you see this case, or how the jury is leaning. But I know there is some conflict back there and I feel the need to intervene. Is the jury making progress?”

  “No sir.”

  “Why not?”

  She took a deep breath and looked at Noose, then Jake, then Lowell. She swallowed hard and began, “Okay, now, I can’t use names, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Okay. There is one guy back there who shouldn’t be on the jury. Let me go back to something that he said yesterday. Is that okay?”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  “After Kiera testified yesterday morning, we were having lunch, and this guy made a crude comment to another man on the jury. They kinda stick together. And I assure you, Judge, we have heard your warnings and there has been no discussion of the case until, well, until yesterday.”

  “What was the crude comment?”

  “Referring to Kiera, he said Kofer probably wasn’t the father since the girl probably started screwing, pardon my language, when she was twelve, just like her mother. The other guy laughed. Most of us did not. I heard it and I was appalled. Almost immediately, Joey, oh, I’m sorry, I used his name. Sorry, Judge.”

  “That’s okay. Keep going.”

  “Joey didn’t like his comment and called him out. He said we’re not supposed to be talking about the case, and they went back and forth for a few minutes. It was pretty tense. Neither guy will back down. And so today, as soon as we retired, this guy tried to take over, wanted to be the foreman, wanted to vote immediately. It’s obvious he wants a guilty verdict and the death penalty. He wants the kid strung up tomorrow.”

  Jake and Lowell were fascinated by her narrative. They had never heard a juror discuss deliberations before reaching a verdict. Jurors could be contacted after the trial and quizzed about what happened, though most declined. But to hear a firsthand account of what was happening in the jury room was mesmerizing.

  Obviously, Jake was far more pleased with her story than Lowell.

  She continued, “Personally, I don’t think he should be on the jury. He is a bully and tries to intimidate us, especially the women, which is why he and Joey are clashing. He’s abusive and vulgar and dismissive of any argument he disagrees with. I don’t think he approached his jury service with an open and impartial mind.”

  Noose could not remove a juror until he or she did something wrong, and swearing to be impartial while holding a secret bias was not unusual.

  He said, “Thank you, Ms. Elmore. In your opinion, will it be possible for this jury to reach a unanimous verdict?”

  She actually laughed at the judge, not out of disrespect, but out of surprise at such an absurd question. “Sorry, Judge. But no. First we went through all the exhibits, like you said, then we read the instructions again, just like you told us to. And this one guy, same guy, started pushing for a vote. Finally, after lunch, and after he and Joey were separated the first time, we voted.”

  “And?”

  “Six–six, Judge, with no wiggle room anywhere. We’re even sitting on opposite sides of the table now. You can keep us here until the cows come home, but it’s a hard six–six. Me, I won’t vote to convict that boy of anything, not after what Kofer did to them.”

  T
he judge showed her his palms and said, “That’s enough. Thank you again, Ms. Elmore. You are free to go.”

  “Back to the jury room?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Judge, please, I really don’t want to go back in there. I can’t stand that nasty man and I’m tired of him. All of us are, even the ones who agree with him. It’s pretty toxic in there, Judge.”

  “Well, we have to keep trying, don’t we?”

  “There’s gonna be a fight, I’m warning you.”

  “Thank you.”

  After she left, Noose nodded at the court reporter who hustled out of the room too. Alone with the lawyers, Noose relit his pipe, blew some smoke, and looked thoroughly defeated.

  He said, “I’m looking for some brilliant advice, gentlemen.”

  Dyer, eager to salvage his case, said, “Why not excuse Kepner and the bad guy and replace them with the two alternates?”

  Noose nodded. It was a decent idea. “Jake?”

  “Kepner is obviously in our camp and he’s done nothing wrong. That might be a tough one to defend on appeal.”

  “Agreed,” said Noose. “They were properly chosen. I can’t dismiss them because they’re arguing too strenuously. We can’t quit after only three hours of deliberation, gentlemen. Let’s meet in the courtroom in five minutes.”

  With great effort, Jake managed to continue to suppress a smile as he entered the courtroom and sat next to his client. He leaned back and whispered to Portia, “Six–six.” Her jaw dropped before she caught herself.

  There were no smiles either from the jurors as they filed in and took their seats. Noose watched them carefully and when they were settled, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the court has been advised that you appear to be deadlocked.”