by Allen Drury
This was not the case, however, among the viewers and readers, as the rising response to Justice NOW! continued to prove. There might be high-level discussions of circumstantial evidence and potential vigilantism among those who prided themselves on being above the battle, but gut instinct in the country seemed to be that the bomber of Pomeroy Station was guilty as hell, and that the sooner he was strung up, the better—not only for the sake of retribution but for the sake of society as a whole. Somehow a large, insistent and apparently overwhelming majority seemed to agree with Regard Stinnet that this case summarized the whole frustrating, frightening, infuriating increase in wanton crime that had plagued the country in recent years.
It was as though many millions had suddenly and finally decided that enough was indeed enough; and no voice of caution, restraint or detached intellectual weighing of pros and cons was going to be able to stem the irresistible popular decision that there must be a time to stop it, and the time was now.
***
Chapter 5
Sarah Ann Pomeroy was buried at “High Pillars,” the Pomeroy plantation southeast of Columbia, on Monday. In the soft late-spring afternoon, the old house, built by Pomeroys in 1821 and inhabited by them ever since, had never looked more beautiful or serene. The service, arranged by Sue-Ann with the strength that women find within themselves on such occasions, was the same. Only one thing marred it for the family, the plantation and house workers and the little handful of old friends from across South Carolina gathered on the lawn beneath the oaks: the minister’s inability to stay away from the topic that was arousing and agitating the country.
“Everyone here,” an old aunt remarked to an old uncle as they drove away after tearfully kissing Sue-Ann and Moss good-bye, “is just as upset about this awful crime, and wantin’ that Stinnet boy’s plans to succeed, and all, as anybody else. Why did the preacher have to drag it in over poor Sarah’s grave? We surely didn’t have to be reminded!”
But remind them he did. It seemed he could not stay away from it, try as he undoubtedly did to keep his brief remarks free from everything but the terrible loss of a happy and promising young life.
“Now we have seen,” he intoned, and in spite of his best intentions a rising indignation entered his voice, “that beautiful young life wantonly destroyed by the actions of an evil being who, apparently moved by some perverse quarrel with society, has brought directly to our beloved Pomeroy family the savage sickness that afflicts the land. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord! May He find a million, yea ten million, yea hundreds of millions, to do His work for Him! May justice indeed be restored to the land, and may this crime and its swift, inevitable punishment serve as a beacon to restore America to goodness, to sanity, to security and to truth. Only then will our dear Sarah be at rest. Only then will we know that she has not died in vain!”
Even Regard, rapidly repeating several of these phrases to himself so that he could remember and use them in later speeches, squirmed uncomfortably; and for a few seconds the serenity and peace of the lovely old homestead were invaded by the ravening horrors of the world outside. The minister went on and concluded without further reference to them, and afterward Sue-Ann and Moss thanked him gravely and told him what a wonderful job he had done. But later Sue-Ann also protested bitterly, and cried again even though Moss said gently, “But, honey, how can we escape it? It’s true, what he said. The very reason for our being here reminds us; we can’t forget it for a minute. Nobody can.”
At the hospital in Columbia, to which Tay returned immediately after the service, it was equally inescapable. He had accepted Regard’s offer of a ride out, and on the return journey in his armored Mercedes—Regard did not specifically describe it as such, but the moment Tay slipped inside he realized he was surrounded by gadgetry of a particularly specific kind—the attorney general could not resist his own comments on the ceremony they had just been through.
“I could wish that old preacher had been a little less blunt about it,” he remarked as he skillfully negotiated the deserted back-country roads at a speed that sometimes caused his passenger to tense, “but I guess after all it was what everybody was thinkin’. And I can tell you,” he added with satisfaction, “they’re sure thinkin’ it out around the country. Did you see the New York Times this mornin’? No? Well, I tore it out to show Moss and you, because I thought you might miss it.”
JUSTICE NOW! SWEEPING COUNTRY, the headlines said. LAW-ORDER GROUP WINS SWIFT SUPPORT. MANY THOUSANDS JOINING.
A picture of Regard and a secretary holding up sheaves of telegrams and letters accompanied the story, which was written by the correspondent who had been sent down to Columbia. His text had a distinct undertone of uneasiness.
“He seems to be worried about you,” Tay remarked, handing the article back.
“Ah, shucks!” Regard said. “Those Northerners up there in New York can be counted on, you know that, Mr. Justice. You can just count on ’em. They’re right there every time, expressin’ their doubts and fears about anything spontaneous and law-abidin’ that happens in this country. But that isn’t goin’ to stop Justice NOW! We’re rollin’, man! We’re really rollin’!”
And inspired by this he cheerfully trod harder on the gas and the sleek car shot along through narrow lanes and under overhanging trees a-drip with Spanish moss.
“Regard,” Tay said, “would you mind? I’d like to get back to the hospital as a visitor, not a patient. One patient in the family,” he added with some grimness, “is enough.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Justice,” Regard said, slowing down so abruptly that only a strong seat belt kept Tay in place. “I really am. I get to goin’ along thinkin’ about Justice NOW! and how it’s racin’ ahead all over this great land of ours and I get to racin’ ahead.” His tone changed to a genuine solicitude. “How is your little girl? I couldn’t tell much from that story—he doesn’t dwell on it.”
“He doesn’t know. I’m not talking to the media right now, and neither is Moss, as you know. Janie is—holding her own, thank you.”
“Is she—?” Regard began delicately. “Are there any signs of—?”
“She doesn’t know us yet, no.”
“Still in a coma,” Regard said thoughtfully. “That’s a for-damned shame, I’ll tell you.”
“We aren’t happy about it.”
“How is Mrs. Barbour taking it? Like a real gallant lady, I imagine.”
“She’s a strong woman,” Tay said in a noncommittal tone that Regard filed away for future reference. “We’re both managing, although”—he suddenly uttered a deep sigh—“it isn’t easy.”
“No, sir,” Regard agreed emphatically. “That it isn’t.”
“Have you uncovered any further evidence?”
“A few little things,” Regard said, starting to drive a little faster. “The main thing is, we’ve got such a ground swell started that it’s goin’ to be easy to get a fast trial. I’ve already talked to friends of mine in the courts and they’re willin’ to shove it right along. I knew a lot of it would depend on who it went to for trial, and I’ve taken care of that, I think. I’ve also arranged for trial to be held here in Columbia instead of out there in the hills. The attorney general’s got a good deal of power in this state if he’s got the right friends. You can arrange a lot of things by mutual consent.”
“Oh,” said Tay. “That’s interesting.”
“Yes,” Regard agreed, abruptly cautious. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to think, Mr. Justice, that we’re goin’ to do any railroadin’ here, so don’t make a note of that to worry about if it comes up to Washington. We’re goin’ to abide by all the rules, you can be sure of that. We’re just goin’ to abide by ’em fast, that’s all, because that’s what we want and that’s what the country wants. I think the day is fast comin’ to an end for take-your-time justice in America. I think this case is goin’ to mark a turnin’ point. I think from now on people are goin’ to demand and get swift and effective justice.”
“If you can figure out how to clear dockets all over the country so that we can have this speed you want,” Tay said, “well and good. But how are you going to do that?”
Regard looked scornful.
“We’re goin’ to tell ’em to God damn get movin’,” he said, tromping down on the gas again. The car shot across a tree-blind intersection, narrowly missing a farm truck coming in from the right.
“Please,” Tay said. “Save your speed for the courts, okay?”
“Sorry,” Regard said with a smile, again slowing as abruptly as he had accelerated. “I just get excited thinkin’ about what a revolution we’re goin’ to bring about in the criminal justice system, that’s all. It’s goin’ to be sensational. I mean, we’ve got hold of somethin’ here, Mr. Justice, we really have. It’s all comin’ together, thanks to that bastard Holgren. Justice in America,” he said with a satisfied certainty, “is never goin’ to be the same again.”
“It does need reform,” Tay conceded as they began to enter the outskirts of the city and his host, of necessity, began to adopt a more leisurely pace. “My only concern is with the orderly processes of the law. Interfere with those and you’re in trouble with us on the Court, as you know. So watch it.”
“I most certainly will,” Regard said solemnly. “I may talk like a hick sometimes when I’m out in the boonies where they want to have you talk like a hick, but I’m not a hick, Mr. Justice, as you know very well.”
“Indeed you’re not,” Tay agreed. “You’re one hell of a smart man. Which, in some minds, makes you a dangerous one.”
Regard gave a contemptuous snort,
“To their complacency and their phony-liberal attitudes and their casual disregard for justice if it doesn’t suit their narrow ideologies, and their eternal coddlin’ of criminals who are the scum of the earth—yes, sir, Mr. Justice, you bet I am. And I’m goin’ to be even more dangerous to those things, too, now that I’ve roused up the country and started gettin’ the people behind me. A million, yea ten million, yea hundreds of millions, as that old preacher-man said. They’re comin’ to me, Mr. Justice. They’re flockin’ in from all over. They want Justice NOW! And they’re goin’ to get it. They’re not goin’ to be denied.”
“Just remember,” Tay said again, “that the Court does not take kindly to manhandling of the law.”
“The Court,” Regard said crisply, “is goin’ to do what the country wants, or the Court is goin’ to regret it.”
“Are you threatening the Supreme Court of the United States?” Tay demanded sharply.
“No, sir,” Regard said as he pulled smartly into the hospital drive. “I’m just sendin’ the Court a message about the way things are. I hope it’ll get through, Mr. Justice, as it would be too bad if the Court stood in the way of the popular will. Its members have been pretty shrewd about avoidin’ any such showdown in the past, and I suspect present members will be equally shrewd. I don’t anticipate any real trouble.” He gave Tay a bland glance. “Do you?”
“I hope not,” Tay said evenly.
“So do I, Mr. Justice,” Regard said calmly, “because if there is trouble based on tightenin’ up the criminal justice system, then I’m not so sure the Court will emerge on the popular side of it… Now, what the hell,” he said abruptly as he parked, “is that bedraggled little swamp-hen of a gal doin’ draggin’ her sorry tail in here to your hospital?”
Debbie Donnelson was standing on the stairs.
She started toward them at once.
“Mr. Justice!” she called. “Mr. Justice!”
“Miss Donnelson,” Regard said in a tired tone, “Miss Donnelson—Debbie—now, why do you want to bother the Justice? You know his little daughter is still in grave danger, you know he’s tired out and exhausted, you know—”
“If you will stop telling me what I know and get out of my way, Regard,” Debbie said curtly, “I believe I am old enough to convey to the Justice myself why I am here, and I believe he is old enough to comprehend it. Or am I mistaken, Mr. Justice?”
“I think you have made a reasonable assumption, Miss Donnelson,” Tay said, amused in spite of the heavy weight that seemed to settle upon him every time he approached the hospital. “What can I do for you?”
“You can talk to me,” she said in the same crisp way. “Or allow me to talk to you, rather. Is there somewhere here where we can go?”
“I don’t know—” he said uncertainly. Regard, with an elaborately suffering sigh, said, “There’s a small sun room I think we can get for you privately if you really want to talk to this person, Mr. Justice. I’ll go in and arrange it.”
“Thank you, Regard,” he said, and Debbie nodded in a businesslike way. “And thank you for the ride.”
“You’ve been to the funeral,” she said. “How was it?”
“Tell your client it was sad,” Regard snapped. “He’ll enjoy that, psychotic that he is.”
“Please continue to dislike him,” she remarked in a cold tone. “It will hopefully affect your judgment.”
“I despise him,” Regard said calmly, “but I assure you it won’t affect my judgment. If you’ll excuse me—” and he brushed on by and went in. They stood there without speaking until he reappeared: there was not, after all, much to say at that point. He returned and gestured them in. “It’s all yours. They’ll show you the way.”
“Thank you,” Tay said.
“Let me know if there’s any change with your daughter.”
“I will. Perhaps I’ll see you again before we go back to Washington.”
“I’ll make a point of it,” Regard said. “Enjoyed your company, enjoyed our talk. My best to Mrs. Barbour.”
And brushing past Debbie he loped off to his car, jumped in, slammed the door, backed out with a flourish and zoomed off.
“Damned reactionary,” Debbie said, watching him go. “Damned misuser of the law. But he’ll pay for it before I’m through with him. He’ll pay for it.”
“You’re a rather fierce young lady,” Tay observed. She gave him a sudden quick smile that lighted up her usually somber little face.
“I can be,” she said as they walked in and a nurse directed them to their impromptu conference room. “If necessary.”
“With such a client,” he remarked, “it may be. Now,” he said, forestalling retort by gesturing her to a chair and taking one himself, “what is it you want to talk to me about?”
“First of all,” she said with evident sincerity, “I want to tell you how delighted I am with your appointment. I think it’s a marvelous thing to have such a truly dedicated and proven liberal on the Court. I believe every progressive, right-thinking American had a lift of the heart when she or he heard about it. I know I did. We expect great things of you, Mr. Justice. Your appointment is cause for real hope and genuine rejoicing.”
“Well, thank you,” he said, flattered in spite of the warning knowledge that of course she wanted something or she wouldn’t be there. “You’re very kind and very generous.”
“I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“I saw your press conference on television. Does that apply to statements about your client?”
For a split second she hesitated; but she looked him straight in the eye.
“On the evidence now before us,” she said calmly, “I have no grounds for believing him to be other than innocent.”
“Mmmm,” he said. “And what do you think?”
“What I think is immaterial, Mr. Justice. You know that. You’re a lawyer.”
“I’ve found in my own practice,” he said with some irony, “that a certain amount of personal conviction helps in mounting an effective defense.”
“I do have convictions!” she exclaimed angrily.
“I’m sure. But not so many about Earle Holgren.”
“About what Earle Holgren stands for,” she said in the same harsh tone. “What he represents. His ideals, his dreams, his belief in what is best for America—”
“Injuring my daughter is best for America,” he said with a sudden release of tightly held bitterness. “Killing Justice Pomeroy’s. Murdering a woman and child. These are things that are best for America.”
“If you feel that way,” she said swiftly, “and if he does, then you should disqualify yourselves if this case comes up to the Court. Obviously you are not objective. Obviously you cannot be judicious. Obviously your honor as a liberal demands that you step aside.”
“You’re conceding your case,” he said, and knew he had struck home. “You’re jumping ’way ahead. How can you give him a good defense with that state of mind? You’re beaten before you start, Miss Donnelson. Your client would be wise to get another lawyer.”
“He has chosen me to represent him,” she said, flushing but standing her ground, “and I intend to do so to the best of my ability.”
“Then perhaps you will secure his freedom and our whole discussion will be academic. What is the purpose of it, in any event? The matter has not come before us, it may not. You know I cannot comment one way or the other about it or about what I would do in such an eventuality. Why are you here?”
“Because I want to tell you—” she began. “Because I want to beg of you to remain true to your instincts and your reputation. Because I want you to fight for justice on the Court as you have always fought for it all your professional life, in government and out. I don’t know whether I can win this case in these courts or not, but if it does come up to the Supreme Court, then I just want you to know that I, like all who believe in real justice and the rule of law in America, will be looking to you to fight the battle as you always have.”
He studied her for what seemed to her a long time, gaze disbelieving, moody and inward-turning.
“Miss Donnelson,” he said finally, “do you realize that a few yards from here my daughter is lying in a coma from which she may or may not recover, as the result of the crime of your client?”
“No one has proved he did it!”
“No,” he said quietly. “But you know, and I know, that he did. And we also know that the climate in this state and in the country is such—”
