Decision

by Allen Drury

  “Other defendants in other cases undergo psychiatric tests for months, your honor,” she observed with a show of indignation. “Is my client to be denied one month, simply because of the hysteria whipped up here by counsel for the state and his organization?”

  “Both of which counsel was praisin’ to the skies not fifteen minutes ago!” Regard exclaimed indignantly. Outside the boo rose again.

  “Yes, I was!” Debbie said angrily. “And I think yesterday you showed courage and they showed good sense in following your advice. But good qualities are not being shown in some other aspects of this case, and this is one of them. My client has a right to psychiatric examination—”

  “Oh, the state will admit he’s a psychopath!” Regard shot back.

  “I object, your honor!” Debbie snapped.

  “Objection sustained,” Perlie Williams agreed promptly. “Counsel will restrain himself, if possible. Or I’ll restrain him. Miss Donnelson, tell the court why you think an entire month is necessary for psychiatric examination.”

  “Because, your honor,” Debbie said earnestly, while her client and everyone else studied her dark, determined little face and listened carefully to her clear, incisive voice, “Earle Holgren at this moment is an unknown quantity to all of us here. All we know is that he was seen in the vicinity of the bombing at Pomeroy Station: there is no proof that he did it. We know that he was brutally set upon and beaten by so-called ‘peace officers.’ We know that he was denied his right to be informed of his rights, and we know that he was denied his immediate right to be represented by counsel. We know that yesterday he was almost lynched by a mob of South Carolina citizens. We know that he is the object and the victim of a concerted drive to rush him through trial with such speed that there is very grave danger that he will in no way receive a fair hearing. We know that he must be defended in an atmosphere of bias, prejudice and hatred. But what is Earle Holgren really like? That we do not know.”

  Distantly came another angry hoot. Many obviously thought they did. She went on, chin a little higher, expression still more determined.

  “I have talked to my client, your honor, and of course those conversations are privileged communications between defendant and lawyer. But I can tell you that out of them I have formed a picture of a product of a luxurious but oppressive home”—the elder Holgrens looked at one another with a startled dismay that brought murmurs of sympathy from their neighbors and a quick, contemptuous glance from their son—“who early became convinced, most sincerely and idealistically, that much needs to be changed in America; who has devoted his life to date to trying to bring those changes about; and who is motivated always by the highest ideals and dreams for his country and his people—”

  “Miss Donnelson,” Judge Williams interrupted dryly, “if you don’t mind, I must ask you again why you consider it necessary for your client to have a psychiatric examination.”

  “Because he has been hurt by life!” she exclaimed angrily. “Because his ideals and dreams have been thwarted, warped and frustrated! Because who knows what damage has been done inside to a highly intelligent, perceptive and sensitive mind! Because the very life of a valuable human being is at stake! Because—”

  But this time her words were drowned in a wave of booing that swept not only the crowd outside but the audience in the courtroom. It was several moments before Perlie Williams, vigorously pounding his gavel, was able to restore order.

  “The court,” he said when he had finally secured it, “will remind the audience once—just once—that order is to be maintained in this courtroom. If the audience cannot be in order it will be directed to leave and the room will be cleared of everyone but the principals in the case and the media. This warning will not be repeated. Miss Donnelson, you do not, in my estimation, seem to be getting much of anywhere. However, since the court does not wish to either endanger—or enhance—your chance for appeal if you should ultimately wish to make one, I am willing to go through the process of psychiatric examination of the defendant. But I am not willing to take forever to do it. The public interest in a swift conclusion of this matter is too great, as you yourself are well aware. I will not give you one month. I will give you one week.”

  “But, your honor—!” Debbie cried in what appeared to be genuine dismay.

  “Today is Friday. Over the weekend you will appoint one psychiatrist; the state will appoint one; the court will appoint a third. They will have full access to the prisoner between the hours of ten a.m. and five p.m. beginning next Monday and terminating one week from today. They will present their report to the court at ten a.m. on the following Monday.

  “Court will now stand in recess until ten a.m. next Monday week.”

  And with a last decisive rap of the gavel he stood up, turned his back on them all, and went out.

  Again the elder Holgrens slipped away, the audience moved quickly out. This time security was absolute. The crowd had been ordered back fifty feet on either side. The guards virtually ran the prisoner to the van, hurried him inside, scrambled after him and slammed the door. The van roared away in the midst of its motorcycle escort.

  More leisurely, Tay and Moss stood up, nodded to Regard and Debbie as they gathered their papers, ignoring each other but taking time to smile good-bye to the Justices, and went out together into the drowsy afternoon.

  “What are you going to do for the week?” Tay inquired. Moss sighed.

  “I’m going back to D.C. There’s nothing I can do here. Sue-Ann may stay a few days but the Court goes on, you know. The work is piling up. I feel I’ve got to get back, until I’m recalled here to testify, which I suppose I will be. And you?”

  “I’d like to,” Tay said, “but I just don’t see how I can leave Janie at the moment.”

  “No change?”

  “No change. And Mary would never forgive me if there was a change, either good or bad, and I wasn’t here. I’d never forgive myself. I’ll just have to hope the Chief and all of you understand.”

  Moss gave him an impatient but affectionate look.

  “Oh, of course. I won’t be going up until Monday morning. Why don’t you come out to the house on Sunday for a few hours, just to get away? I don’t suppose Mary would come, but—”

  “No,” Tay said with a sigh. “I’m sure she won’t. But I will, if all’s calm.”

  “Good. Call me around ten and I’ll come get you.”

  Tay nodded. He hesitated for a second and then decided to risk it. “I want to talk to you anyway. About—yesterday.”

  “What about yesterday?” Moss demanded, immediately defensive.

  “You know what about yesterday,” Tay said, “so don’t play innocent. That’s a no-good organization, Moss, and you know what the media are already doing with your support of it.”

  “I didn’t support it!”

  “You came damned close. And it just isn’t good—it just isn’t fitting or proper. And what’s more, I’ll bet the Chief tells you so, too.”

  “I’m not a child,” Moss snapped, “to be lectured like a child.”

  “No, but you are a Justice of the Supreme Court, and that imposes some obligations. Anyway,” he said as Moss’ expression became even more set, “I’m not going to stand here in front of the courthouse and argue with you about it. We’ll talk about it Sunday—if you’ll let me.”

  “Oh, I’ll let you,” Moss said as they reached his car, “but it won’t do any good. Get in, I’ll drop you at the hospital. How do you think things are going so far?”

  “Skirmishing,” Tay said, obediently abandoning the subject. “No hits, no runs, one or two minor errors on Miss Debbie’s part. Regard remains the hero of the hour so far, I’d say, but even he hasn’t moved things much. Too early. But a lot can happen in a week.”

  “And not in Earle Holgren’s favor,” Moss said grimly as he put the car in drive and started off. “I hope to God.”

  “You see?” Tay said, trying to make it light. “That’s what I mean.” />
  “You worry about your own problems,” Moss said shortly. “You’ve got enough.”

  And so he had, he thought as they arrived at Richland Memorial without further conversation and Moss dropped him off with a quick handshake and “See you Sunday.” The moment he entered the doors the head nurse hurried toward him. Oh God, no, he prayed. Don’t let it be. Don’t let it be.

  But the nurse, to his dazed relief, was smiling; and her voice when she spoke held a lilt of happy excitement.

  “Mr. Justice!” she called out from halfway across the lobby. “Mr. Justice, you’re wanted at once in your daughter’s room. Hurry on up, now!”

  “Is it—?” he began, not daring to really ask. “Is it—?”

  “It’s good news!” she said, and he became aware that other nurses were looking his way, smiling, beaming. “Good news! But you just hurry on up! Mrs. Barbour will tell you all about it. Hurry on, now!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, a great happiness beginning to grow in his heart. “Yes, ma’am!”

  And, almost boyishly, he did ‘hurry on’; and outside Janie’s room he saw other nurses smiling, the older doctor from their first interview waiting, an air of excitement and encouragement. With tears in his eyes he opened the door and went in. Instantly a cold hand seized his heart. Janie was still lying apparently comatose, unchanged in any way he could see. But Mary looked up, face alight.

  “She spoke to me!” she exclaimed. “She spoke to me! I was going to send for you at the trial but it was just a little while ago and they said you’d be back soon.”

  He nodded, his impulse to go to her and put his arms around her. But there was something in the set of her head and body that warned him off, even now. So he simply stepped forward to the other side of the bed and looked down at his daughter’s sleeping face.

  “What did she say?” he asked, aware that the doctor had come into the room and was quietly watching them.

  “Not much,” Mary said, “and rather slurred and hurried, but clear enough. Her eyes opened, quite wide, and focused on me for a moment as though she were trying”—her voice trembled, then steadied—“trying, very hard. Then she said, ‘Mommy, how are you, Mommy?’ And then, ‘Where’s Daddy?’ And then her eyes closed and she went back—back to sleep. But she recognized me, Tay! She remembered us! She isn’t gone, after all. She’s in there somewhere and the doctor thinks she’ll be waking soon again.” She turned and appealed directly to him. “Don’t you, doctor?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, coming forward to stand at the foot of the bed. “Indeed I do. When Mrs. Barbour cried out the nurse hurried in and also heard Janie speak. She feels it was quite distinct.” He smiled. “She’s a little bit more optimistic even than Mrs. Barbour is, I think. I agree with them both. I believe there are grounds for optimism.”

  “How much?” he demanded; and ignoring Mary’s upset, impatient movement, repeated sternly: “How much?”

  “That,” the doctor said, giving him a candid look, “I could not say with any assurance at this moment. I would say there are more grounds for than against, let’s put it that way. She has roused once and spoken: the history of these cases is that this is usually a good sign. It is usually followed with reasonable rapidity by further arousals, further speech, a gradual restoration of normal responses. She has already recognized her mother and asked for you. That is a long way on the road, Mr. Justice. You mustn’t be too impatient. Her system received a terrible shock, after all. But if things progress on a rising curve, I should think you might be able to take her home in a couple of weeks—certainly not more than a month. Back in Washington, she would have to remain mostly in bed but with increasing activity every day as recommended by your doctor or doctors up there, for perhaps another month or two. But say three months at the most and she should be reasonably recovered. Not racing about, perhaps, for a while, as I’m sure she used to do; but in time—in time … providing, as I say, that everything goes forward as we hope.”

  “Will you go back to Washington and leave me all alone here?” Mary inquired.

  “I don’t like the way you say that, Mary,” he responded gravely, while the doctor looked uneasy, “but yes, I will have to go back before she can, and presumably you will remain here. I’m sorry if that seems unfair, but I have barely yet put my toe in the water as far as the Court is concerned. The work is piling up and they need me to carry my share of it and that’s where I have to go. Providing, as the doctor says, things are proceeding as we hope and Janie is making comfortable progress.”

  “Will you have to testify at the trial, Mr. Justice?” the doctor asked before Mary could make some retort both he and the doctor were afraid would be unpleasant.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I really won’t know until it resumes, I suppose. Since Mary and I were not at Pomeroy Station—”

  “Only Janie,” she said.

  “Yes,” he agreed, again gravely, “only Janie—I don’t know quite what we could testify to, except, perhaps, her condition. If that is improving as we hope, then my testimony and Mary’s might be of some use to the defense, in that Miss Donnelson could elicit testimony that might, she would hope, tend to lessen the defendant’s culpability in the minds of the jury.”

  “I would never give testimony that would do that,” Mary said flatly. “You might, but I wouldn’t.”

  “If you were under oath on the witness stand you would testify in response to the questions defense counsel asked you,” he said patiently. “You might not want to, but I think you would be required by law. Or be held in contempt. Whichever.”

  “I would expect some such wishy-washiness from you, Tay,” she said, while the doctor looked as though he wished he were somewhere else. “But if I were called, I would speak my piece regardless of the consequences. I would say what I thought of that monster and no one would be in any doubt where I stood. I would not crawl to Miss Donnelson”—she spat out the name—“or that two-bit country judge, or anyone else. I would have that monster’s head, if I could.”

  “I think most people in America agree with you, Mrs. Barbour,” the doctor said mildly, “although I must say Judge Williams is rather highly thought of in these parts… So, we have to expect you to leave, then, Mr. Justice, sometime in the next few days?”

  “In a week or so, probably. I’ll fly down for the weekends, but during the weeks, barring something unforeseen, I’ll be at the Court.”

  “And I’ll be here,” Mary said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Barbour,” the doctor said politely. “That will be a real help. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll be on my way. But I’ll be back later this evening, and of course if anything happens in the meantime, they’ll let me know and I’ll return at once.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Tay said, holding out his hand. But before the doctor could take it, Mary cried, “Look!” and they all froze, as what Tay would ever after refer to in his own mind—when he could bear to think of it—as “Janie’s brief miracle” took place.

  There was a slight moan from the bed. Her eyes opened, quite clear and quite alive. She looked around, saw Mary. Her eyes moved on, saw the doctor, saw him. Her expression, tense for a second, relaxed and a perfectly natural smile, the most beautiful smile he thought he had ever seen, flooded across her face.

  “Hello again, Mommy,” she said, and beside him the doctor murmured, “‘again,’” with a hushed and thankful intonation. “And hello, Daddy.”

  “Hello, my darling!” Mary said, and began to cry.

  “Hello, baby,” he said softly, though his eyes were filling with tears and he could barely articulate. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh,” she said, considering. “Pretty good, I guess. Kind of headachy and fuzzy, but—you know. Not too bad.”

  “We’re very thankful for that, Janie,” the doctor said, and she smiled again.

  “I suppose you’re the doctor,” she said, not moving her head or body, only her eyes. “You look nice.”

  “
He is nice,” Tay said, managing a little better. “He’s been very good to your mother and me and extra specially good to you.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” the doctor said. “You are welcome, Janie. Is there anything we can get for you?”

  “I feel a little hungry.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll go find a nurse and we’ll see what we can whip up for you.”

  “Daddy,” she said when the doctor had gone, looking pleased and humming slightly to himself, “when are you going to take me home?”

  “In a while, baby,” he said. “It won’t be right away, but as soon as you’re able we’ll get you back.”

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked, and Mary shot him a look.

  “Yes,” she echoed, “will you, Tay?”

  He took a deep breath and met it, as he had to, head-on.

  “I have to get back to my work, baby,” he said. “You’ve probably forgotten, but I’ve just been appointed to the Supreme Court—”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I do remember.”

  “—and they need me there. But Mommy will be here, and I’ll be here on weekends. At the rate you’re going it will only be a couple of weeks, probably, before we can move you right back up home to your own bed. Then you’ll be all well again in no time.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, yawning suddenly and beginning to sound drowsy. “What happened, anyway?”

  “We’ll tell you about that when you feel better,” Mary said.

  “Was it somebody bad?”

  “Very bad,” he said gravely.

  “I hope they shoot him dead,” she said, sounding drowsier. “Don’t you, Daddy?”

  Again Mary gave him a quick look. He ignored it and spoke very slowly and carefully, for a moment hardly seeing his daughter as he concentrated on how best to answer.