A Time for Mercy

by John Grisham

  Regardless of a win, a loss, or another draw, Jake knew that Drew Gamble would be a part of his life for years to come.

  * * *

  —

  ON MONDAY, Jake non-suited the Smallwood case in circuit court and sent a copy to opposing counsel. Walter Sullivan called his office three times that afternoon, but Jake was not in the mood to chat. He owed no explanation.

  On Tuesday, he filed a wrongful death lawsuit in chancery court and faxed a copy to Judge Atlee.

  On Wednesday, the Times, as expected, ran a front-page story under the headline “Kofer Suspect Released From Jail.” Dumas Lee did him no favors. His reporting was slanted and gave the impression that the defendant was being treated with leniency. Most galling was his reliance on comments made by former district attorney Rufus Buckley, who said, among other cheap shots, that he was shocked that Judge Noose would allow the release of a man indicted for capital murder. “It’s unheard of in this state,” Buckley said, as if he knew the history in all eighty-two counties. Not once did Dumas mention the fact that the defendant was presumed to be innocent, nor had he bothered to call Jake for a comment. Jake figured he had offered so many “No comments” that Dumas was tired of asking.

  True to form, Buckley seemed to have plenty of time to talk. He had never met a reporter he didn’t like.

  * * *

  —

  ON THURSDAY, Judge Noose convened the trial in the matter of Jake Brigance v. Ford County. The main courtroom was practically empty. The five supervisors sat together in a front row, arms crossed over their chests, their frustration evident as they all glowered at Jake, the enemy. They were veteran politicians who had ruled the county for years, with little turnover in their ranks. Each came from a specified district, a little fiefdom where the boss doled out paving contracts, equipment purchases, and jobs. As a group they were not accustomed to being shoved around, not even by a judge.

  Dumas Lee was there to snoop and watch the show. Jake refused to look at him but really wanted to curse him.

  His Honor began with “Mr. Brigance, you’re the plaintiff. Do you have any witnesses?”

  Jake stood and said, “No, Your Honor, but, for the record, I would like to say that I was appointed by the court to represent Mr. Drew Gamble in his capital murder trial. He was and still is quite indigent. I would like to introduce into evidence my statement of fees and expenses for his defense.” Jake walked to the court reporter and handed over the paperwork.

  “So admitted,” Noose said.

  Jake sat down and Todd Tannehill stood and said, “Your Honor, I represent the county, the defendant, and acknowledge receipt of Mr. Brigance’s bill, which I submitted to the board. Pursuant to the Mississippi Code, the maximum to be paid by any county in such a matter is one thousand dollars. The county is prepared to tender a check for this amount.”

  Noose said, “Very well. I’d like for Mr. Patrick East to come to the witness stand.”

  East was the current president of the board and was obviously surprised to be called. He made his way forward, was sworn in, and settled into the witness chair. He smiled at Omar, a man he had known twenty years.

  Judge Noose asked a few preliminary questions to establish his name, address, and position, then picked up some papers. “Now, Mr. East, looking at the county’s budget for this fiscal year, I see that there is a surplus of some two hundred thousand dollars. Can you explain that?”

  “Sure, Judge. It’s just good management, I guess.” East smiled at his colleagues. By nature he was folksy and funny and the voters loved him.

  “Okay. And there is a line item labeled ‘Discretionary Account.’ The balance is eighty thousand dollars. Could you explain that?”

  “Sure, Judge. It’s sort of a rainy day fund. We use it occasionally when there is an unexpected expense.”

  “For example?”

  “Well, last month we needed new lights at the softball complex over in Karaway. It wasn’t in the budget request, and we voted to spend eleven thousand dollars. Just stuff like that.”

  “Are there any restrictions on how this money can be spent?”

  “Not really. As long as the request is proper and approved by our attorney.”

  “Thank you. Now, when the board was presented with Mr. Brigance’s bill, how did the five of you vote?”

  “Five to zero against it. We’re just following the law, Your Honor.”

  “Thank you.” Noose looked at the two lawyers and asked, “Any questions?”

  Without standing, both shook their heads in the negative.

  “Very well. Mr. East, you are excused.”

  He returned to his colleagues on the front row.

  Noose said, “Anything else?”

  Jake and Todd had nothing.

  “Very well. The court finds in favor of the plaintiff, Jake Brigance, and orders the defendant, Ford County, to proffer a check in the amount of twenty-one thousand dollars. We are adjourned.”

  * * *

  —

  ON FRIDAY, Todd Tannehill called Jake with the news that he had been ordered by the board to appeal the decision. He apologized and said he had no choice but to do what his client wanted.

  An appeal to the state supreme court would take eighteen months.

  * * *

  —

  FRIDAY WAS PORTIA’S last day at work. She would start classes on Monday and she was ready to go. Lucien, Harry Rex, Bev, Jake, and Carla gathered with her in the main conference room and opened a bottle of champagne. They toasted her, with a few light roasts in between, and each took a turn with a little speech. Jake went last and suddenly had a knot in his throat.

  The gift was a handsome chestnut and bronze plaque that read: OFFICE OF PORTIA CAROL LANG, ATTORNEY AT LAW. It was to be mounted on the door of the office she had occupied for the past two years. She held it proudly, wiped her eyes, looked at the group, and said, “I’m overwhelmed, but then I’ve been overwhelmed many times around here. I thank you for your friendship, you have been dear. But I also thank you for something far more important. It is your acceptance. You have accepted me, a young black woman, as an equal. You have given me an incredible opportunity, and you have expected me to perform as an equal. Because of your encouragement, and acceptance, I have a future that, at times, I cannot believe. You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you. I love you all—even you, Lucien.”

  There were no dry eyes when she finished.

  55

  On the third Sunday in September, with the summer heat finally breaking and a hint of autumn in the air, the Brigance family, running late as usual, was trying to leave for services at the Good Shepherd Bible Church. Carla and Hanna were in the car and Jake was about to set the house alarm when the phone rang. It was Josie, anxious with the news that Kiera was in labor. She was in a hurry and promised to call when she could. Jake calmly set the alarm, locked the door, and got in the car.

  “We’re even later,” Carla growled.

  “The phone rang,” he said, backing out of the driveway.

  “Who was it?”

  “Josie. The hour has come.”

  Carla took a deep breath and mumbled, “She’s early.” They had not yet told Hanna.

  The child missed nothing, and from the backseat she asked, “Is Miss Josie okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Jake said. “It was nothing.”

  “Then why’d she call?”

  “It was nothing.”

  After a sermon that seemed far too long, they visited with Pastor McGarry and Meg for a moment, then got away. They hustled home and ate a quick lunch while staring at the phone. Hours passed. Hanna’s birth had been a nightmare, and they remembered all the things that could go wrong. Jake tried to watch a football game while Carla puttered in the kitchen, as close to the phone as possible.

  Finally, at four-thirty,
Josie called with the news that the baby had arrived. Kiera had been a rock star. Mother and child were doing fine with no complications. Seven pounds, four ounces, and of course he was beautiful and looked just like his mother. Hanna knew something strange was going on and watched every move.

  On Monday, she and her mother left for school as usual. Jake was at his office, reviewing paperwork. He called his attorney in Oxford, a friend from law school, and they walked through their plan. He called his parents with the news. Carla had called hers Sunday night.

  After school, they dropped off Hanna at a friend’s house and drove to the hospital in Oxford. Kiera’s room was a wreck because both Josie and Drew had spent the night there on foldaway beds. The family was ready to go home. Drew seemed particularly bored with it all.

  At Jake’s insistence, Kiera had not seen her baby. He walked them through the procedures and explained the legalities. Kiera was emotional and cried through most of the meeting. Carla stood by her bed and patted her arm. She looked even younger than fourteen.

  “That poor child,” Carla said, wiping her cheeks as they left the room and walked away. “That poor child.”

  Jake almost said something banal, like the worst was behind them and now they could move on, but with Drew’s legal problems hanging like a sword it was difficult to be optimistic. By the time they got to the maternity ward, though, the sadness was gone. After a quick peek at the baby, they declared him to be just perfect.

  That night they finally sat down with Hanna and broke the news that she was about to get a little brother. Her days as the only child were coming to an end. She was thrilled and had a thousand questions, and for hours they talked about his arrival, and his name, and his room, and on and on. Jake and Carla had decided to postpone any discussion of the mother’s identity. They described her only as a beautiful young girl who couldn’t keep her baby. This mattered little to Hanna. She was ecstatic over the idea of her new brother.

  Jake worked late into the night assembling a new crib they had hidden in a storage closet, while Carla and Hanna unwrapped new gowns and blankets and baby clothes. Hanna insisted on sleeping with them that night, not an unusual occurrence, and they almost had to muzzle her to get some sleep.

  They awoke early for the big day and dressed like they were going to church. Hanna helped pack a diaper bag with more stuff than any newborn could possibly need. She chattered all the way to Oxford while her parents tried in vain to answer all her questions. At the hospital, they parked her in a waiting room with strict instructions and stopped by to see the administrator, who reviewed the paperwork and signed off. They went to Kiera’s room and found her and Josie packed and ready to leave. Drew was already at school. The doctor had signed the discharge forms and the Gambles had had enough of the hospital. With hugs and tears they said goodbye and promised to get together soon. Then they raced to the maternity ward to collect the boy. The nurse handed him over to Carla, who was speechless, and they hurried away to the waiting room where they presented him to his big sister. Hanna, finally, was speechless too, for a moment. She cuddled him like a doll and insisted that he wear a soft blue outfit, one she had selected and that was more appropriate for the occasion.

  They would call him Luke, a name that Hanna approved. On his amended birth certificate his legal name would be Lucien, a name that Carla had at first resisted. Naming their child after the biggest rogue in Clanton might present all sorts of problems, but Jake was adamant. By the time the kid was ten, Lucien Wilbanks would be gone and forgotten by most of the town. Jake, though, would treasure his memories for the rest of his life.

  They drove to the square and parked in front of the office of Arnie Pierce, a close friend of Jake’s from their law school days. Before she met Jake, Carla had once dated Arnie, so the relationships were old and trusted. They walked across the street to the Lafayette County Courthouse where Pierce had arranged a special appointment with Chancellor Purvis Wesson, a youthful judge Jake knew well. They gathered in his chambers for a private hearing with a court reporter present. Like a priest at a christening, Judge Wesson held the baby, examined him, and declared him ready to be adopted.

  Portia arrived just in time for the occasion. Three weeks into the grind of law school, she was more than willing to skip a class or two and witness the adoption.

  With Arnie feeding him paperwork, Judge Wesson waived the three-day waiting period and the six months probation. He examined the petition and the consent forms signed by Josie and Kiera. For the record, he read the specifics from the father’s death certificate. He signed his name twice, and little Luke Brigance became the legal son of Jake and Carla. The final matter was an order locking up the file and keeping it away from the public records.

  Thirty minutes later, they posed for photos and said goodbye.

  For the ride home, Hanna insisted that Carla ride in the rear seat with her and her brother. She had already assumed possession of the child and wanted to give him a bottle. Then she wanted to change his diaper, something Jake heartily endorsed. She could change all of them she wanted.

  The drive to Clanton was a joyous moment, something Jake and Carla would relive for years. At home, lunch was waiting, along with Jake’s parents and Carla’s, who had flown into Memphis early that morning. Harry Rex and Lucien arrived for the homecoming. When Jake announced the child’s name, Harry Rex feigned irritation and asked indignantly why Lucien was chosen. Jake explained that one Harry Rex in the world was more than sufficient.

  The grandmothers took turns squeezing the boy, all under the watchful eyes of his big sister.

  The friends and family would go to great lengths to bury as many of the details as possible. People would talk, though, and the town would eventually know.

  Jake didn’t care.

  Author’s Note

  I began writing A Time to Kill in 1984 and published it in 1989. A long time passed before Jake returned in 2013, in Sycamore Row. In between, other books set in the same fictional place were published—The Chamber, The Last Juror, The Summons, and my only collection of short stories, Ford County. Now, with the addition of this novel, a lot has been written about Clanton and many of its characters: Jake and Carla, Harry Rex, Lucien, Judge Noose, Judge Atlee, Sheriff Ozzie Walls, Carl Lee, and so on. Indeed, I’ve written so much about Ford County that I can’t remember all of it.

  The point of all this is to apologize for any mistakes. I’m just too lazy to go back and read the earlier books.

  Thanks to some old lawyer pals in Hernando who helped me remember details from an earlier career: James Franks, William Ballard, Chancellor Percy Lynchard. They explained the laws correctly. If I modified them to fit the story, then so be it. It’s my error, not theirs.

  The same is true for any number of statutes and procedural rules in my home state. As a young attorney so many years ago I was bound to follow them to the letter of the law. Now, as a writer of fiction, I feel no such bondage. Here, as before, I have changed laws, twisted them, even fabricated them, all in an effort to drive the narrative.

  And a big special thanks to Judy Jacoby for the title.

  What’s next on

  your reading list?

  Discover your next

  great read!

  Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.

  Sign up now.