by Allen Drury
“Yes, sir,” Boomer said. “I see what you mean, now.”
“Good man,” Perlie Williams said, and both Boomer and his mother looked proud. “You just keep right on, now. But just remember that difference, all right?”
“Yes, sir,” Boomer said obligingly. “I surely will, Mr. Judge… Well, anyways, he was fiddlin’ and fidgetin’”—he looked questioningly at Perlie, who nodded—“and when things began to step up down there, the band playin’ and everybody gettin’ excited and all, he seemed to get more and more excited himself.”
“How did you know he was excited, Boomer?” Regard asked. “Remember we just want what you saw, now.”
“Well, he was pullin’ at himself,” Boomer said. “You know.”
There was a burst of startled laughter in the courtroom, a scornfully amused sound from outside.
“Were his”—Regard paused for a second, considered and discarded several phrases, decided to meet it head-on—“were his pants unzipped?”
“No, sir, they wasn’t,” Boomer said. “He was just gropin’ around, was all.”
Again laughter swept the room. The defendant swung around to give them a contemptuous look. An answering contempt came back.
“What happened then?”
“Well, he didn’t actually pull it off,” Boomer explained carefully. “Leastways I couldn’t see that he did—”
“Okay, Boomer,” Regard said hastily, “I think we get the picture. So that’s why you thought he was excited, I take it.”
“Yes, sir,” Boomer said. “I get excited when I—” He suddenly remembered where he was, in front of his mama and all these people and all, and stopped, stricken, while laughter, this time full-out, rocked the room. “What I mean is,” he cried desperately, “what I mean is, you got to be pretty excited to do that, don’t you? I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes, Boomer,” Regard agreed gravely, “you’re right on that… So you saw this man and he was acting excited—you thought, on the basis of what you saw he was doing and what you know about how excited it makes a person feel. I think we can concede, your honor, that Boomer’s conclusion was probably correct, can we not?”
“I object, your honor,” the lady with the glasses said angrily. “I object to this down-home clown act we’re getting here in a matter as serious as this! That testimony should be stricken from the record!”
“It’s not a clown act, Miss Donnelson,” Judge Williams said mildly. “It’s an honest account by an honest young man of what he honestly concluded from the defendant’s actions. The way he describes them seems to tie in pretty well with the evidence adduced by examination of the defendant’s clothing after his arrest. I think we’ll let it stand. Go on, Boomer. Then what?”
“Well, it was heatin’ up like I said,” Boomer resumed with dignity, though he was sure he was going to catch hell from his mama later for what, certainly not meaning to, he’d blurted out about himself. “And that man was actin’ excited and then they started the speakin’.”
He stopped and Regard gave him a surprised look and said, “Yes? And then what?”
“Then I had to take a—I had to go behind a tree,” Boomer said, “and after that I decided it was about time to go down and check my friends Tad and Willie, Simpson, you know, they was in the crowd in front there, so down I went. And next thing I knew there was this big bang and—”
“And you weren’t up there when it happened, and you didn’t see what the defendant did,” Regard finished for him, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice while Debbie looked triumphant and Earle Holgren gave him a wry, sardonic grin.
“No, sir,” Boomer said. “I wasn’t, and I didn’t.” He realized how happy this made the lady and the man with the beard and suddenly felt very bad because he seemed to have let Mr. Stinnet down. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said lamely. “I truly am sorry. I would of stayed up there if I’d knowed. I—I’m really sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right, Boomer,” Regard said, recovering rapidly because there wasn’t anything else to do. “You couldn’t have known what was going to happen, otherwise I’m sure you would have stayed and watched the defendant use the bomb-blowing thing and cause the expl—”
“Your honor,” Debbie cried, and Perlie Williams nodded.
“Exactly so, counsel. Mr. Stinnet, we will strike that, if you don’t mind. Now let’s be in order and move on. Does this witness have anything further to give us?”
“Yes, sir,” Regard said with a pleased expression while the jury murmured back and forth amongst themselves. “What did you do after the explosion, Boomer?”
“I went back up to where I’d been.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because,” Boomer said firmly, “that man had made me mighty suspicious, the way he was actin’, and I wanted to see what he was up to next.”
“I object, your honor,” Debbie said.
“He’s describing his own state of mind, Miss Donnelson,” Judge Williams said. “I think it’s a fair statement. Go on, Boomer. Was he still up there?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said, “he’d left by then. But I saw him later.”
“Oh? How was that?”
“Well, by that time, later on that is, everything was pretty wild around there, you know? Police and cops and sheriffs and everybody runnin’ all over the place. So I went down and hung around for quite a while—not gettin’ in the way,” he said hastily, “just watchin’ and observin’, like I like to do—and after a while, oh, about an hour, I guess, I went on back up there one more time. And this time I see him again!”
“And what was he doing this time?” Regard asked softly, while the room became very still and the jury leaned forward intently.
“He was walkin’ along the hillside hidin’ in the brush.”
“Alone?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said, conscious of his effects now and dragging them out a bit. “He wasn’t alone.”
“Who did he have with him?”
“He didn’t exactly have ’em with him,” Boomer said. “It looked to me more like he was almost draggin’ ’em. Like they was bein’ forced to go.”
“And who was it, Boomer?” Regard asked patiently, while the room became even quieter.
“A girl,” Boomer said, “or maybe a little older than a girl, maybe you might say a young lady. She was carryin’ a little baby.”
There was a gasp of released breath from somewhere in the room, tense scribblings in the press section. Regard, too, was conscious of effects.
“Were they walking along freely with him? Did the young lady seem happy? Was the baby laughing?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said. “They was scared-to-death, the young lady was, anyway. I guess the baby was asleep or didn’t know, or somethin’. Like I said, they was bein’ dragged—I thought,” he added, with a glance at Perlie Williams.
“How could you tell that?”
“Well, he was stickin’ real close behind the girl—the young lady—like you do when you want to make somebody march. She was real white and shakin’. I think he was holdin’ a gun on her.”
“Your honor!” Debbie cried. Regard interceded smoothly.
“Did you actually see the gun, Boomer? This is important, now, so think carefully and try to remember exactly what you saw.”
A look of great concentration settled on Boomer’s face for several seconds. Then he leaned back.
“I can’t say as I exactly saw a gun,” he said, while an audible dismay ran through the audience, “but he was holdin’ his right hand under her shawl up against her head and they was somethin’ in it. I could see they was somethin’ in it.”
“But you can’t say exactly, for sure, and no mistake, that it was a gun?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said, his honest face heavy with concern and regret for again, apparently, letting Mr. Stinnet down. “It was somethin’, but I can’t honestly say that.”
“Thank you, Boomer,” Regard said with obvious regret. �
�You are an honest young fellow and your great state of South Carolina appreciates that. So what happened then?”
“Well, then,” Boomer said, “I kept real still, of course, because there was somethin’ about him and the way he was pushin’ them along and he seemed so excited—”
“Not in the same way, though,” Regard suggested with a smile and Boomer returned a tentative smile of his own.
“No, sir, not in the same way. It was just the way he looked—just somethin’ about him. He was real excited. I could feel it. It just came out of him like—like a swamp fog, you might say. It was all around him. It scared me to death. I tell you, it really did. I didn’t want no part of him, no way.”
“And then?”
“Then they just disappeared—just like that. Just—pow! I think I know what it was, though. It was that old mine cave up there. I think they went into it.”
“You didn’t follow?”
“No, sir, Mr. Stinnet, I did not follow. I told you, I didn’t want no part of him. He scared me to death. He was in a killin’ mood, Mr. Stinnet. He was in a mind to kill.”
“Your honor!” Debbie protested, and this time Judge Williams nodded.
“Boomer,” he said, “I think you’re drawing your own conclusions again. You don’t really know what this man was thinking at that moment, do you?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said. “But,” he added fervently, “I sure know what I felt he was thinkin’. And I got right out of there. Yes, sir. Right out!”
“I think we’ll strike your last two answers from the record, Boomer,” Perlie Williams said. “If that’s agreeable to the state.”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Regard said amicably. “I think the jury has a pretty good idea of what the situation was. I think it has a pretty good idea of the situation right from the first moment the witness saw the defendant. Boomer,” he added in a fatherly tone, “you’re a fine young man and a fine witness and I thank you very much. That’s all the questions I have, but I think the young lady may have some for you.”
“What young lady?” Boomer asked, looking about in honest innocence. The audience snickered. Debbie flushed but proceeded.
“Boomer,” she said, “you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And an honest boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You did not see the defendant—this man whom you saw on the mountain before the explosion at Pomeroy Station—use the bomb-blowing thing.”
“No, ma’am.”
“You did not see him use the bomb-blowing thing or in any way—to your personal knowledge—do anything to cause the explosion at Pomeroy Station.”
“No, ma’am.”
“You did not see him threaten the young lady or the baby?”
“No, ma’am, but—”
“You did not see him threaten them, Boomer.”
“No, ma’am. I didn’t see it.”
“And you did not follow them into the cave.”
“No, ma’am.”
“And you have no way of knowing what, if anything, occurred inside the cave.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Boomer, that will be all. Enjoy your grits tomorrow morning. You’ve earned them.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Boomer said as she indicated he should step down. “I didn’t mean,” he added politely, “to say you were an old lady, ma’am.”
“That’s all right, Boomer,” she said, with a sudden smile that lighted up her face and made Boomer think maybe she might perhaps be almost sort of young, after all. “I fool a lot of people.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said; and wasn’t quite sure why everybody, including the lady, laughed again as he started toward his mama. But it was a friendly sound, so he guessed he had done all right with everything.
“Your honor,” Regard said gravely, “it is my intention now to call the Honorable Taylor Barbour, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.”
***
Chapter 7
An hour before, when he had telephoned Cathy from a public booth in the courthouse lobby, he had wondered aloud whether he could go through the ordeal of public testimony along the lines he knew Regard would pursue.
“I’m one of the sympathy witnesses,” he told her with some bitterness. “Moss and I are supposed to reduce the jury to tears.”
“Will it be hard?” she asked quietly. “I shouldn’t think so after what you’ve just told me about Janie.”
“No,” he agreed, instantly sobered. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. I just resent—”
“You resent everything right now,” she said, “and why shouldn’t you? The world is not a happy place for Taylor Barbour at the moment. I’d be resentful too. But it has to be done if that individual is to be convicted and given what he deserves.”
“They’ll give him death.”
“So?” she demanded with a sudden fierceness. “What else does he deserve, for what he has done to you?”
“Do you mean that?” he asked, genuinely shocked. “I thought you were opposed to—”
“Oh, I was, I was. But I find that when it’s my man that is involved—”
“Oh, is that what I am?” he inquired, a sudden small but persistent happiness beginning to grow in his heart in spite of everything. “Is that what I am?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she said. “Anyway, it makes it all different when it’s somebody you love. Somehow all the smart, fashionable objectivity goes out the window.”
“Yes,” he agreed, not daring to push it further at the moment. “I suppose that’s true.”
“You know it’s true. I don’t see how you can look at your daughter and not know it’s true.”
“It’s very hard not to feel that way,” he admitted.
“Don’t you feel that you would just like to abandon all your earnest civilized ways and literally tear him limb from limb? I do.”
“Of course I do,” he said gravely, “but I can’t afford to let myself feel that way. I don’t dare even start down that road. That isn’t what I’m here for. I’m here to keep a level head, if I can. I’m here to keep the balance. I’m here to provide justice. And that,” he said quietly, “is the ideal I have to cling to, no matter what the provocation.”
“You’re almost too noble,” she remarked. “Hate a little. It might do you good.”
“Oh, I hate,” he said grimly. “I hate. But what good does it really do me? What good does it do Janie? It might satisfy something in me but it can’t bring her back. At least I don’t see how it can.”
“Strong emotion can sometimes do remarkable things.”
“Yes, but not that kind of emotion. Love, maybe, which God knows I feel for her; but not hatred for somebody else. He’s of a nature that might be destroyed by compassion and pity, because he isn’t capable of them and doesn’t understand them. But hate he understands. He thrives on hate. He is hate.”
“And shouldn’t he be removed from the world, then? Wouldn’t it be a much better place without him?”
“There you challenge the concepts of a lifetime. It isn’t that easy to overcome them.”
“Mine, too,” she said. “But I find I’m managing to overcome them, as this thing unfolds. I’m coming pretty close to abandoning them permanently, which is something some of my friends will howl me down for when they find out. But they don’t know what it means to suffer what you’re suffering and what the Pomeroys are suffering. Basically, like many of that type, they have no imagination; and since it hasn’t yet happened to them, God help them, they can still afford to be arch and all-knowing about it. But now it’s happened to me—or to you, which is close enough so it’s almost the same thing—and I’m not arch and all-knowing anymore. I hurt inside. I feel savage inside.”
“God!” he said. “You think I don’t? But I can’t afford to give in to it, Cathy. I just can’t afford it.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she sighed.
“No, I suppose you can’t. So, my dear, what now?”
“We’ll bring Janie home as soon as possible and then we’ll see. Mary wants her at home; I think she should be where she can have proper full-time care. I also,” he said, took a deep breath and decided to be completely honest, “think it would be too much of a strain to have her at home. It would be a constant wearing, a constant hopelessness and helplessness, a constant—”
“A constant distraction from the law,” she interrupted, “which is your wife, mistress, friend, love, lover, obsession and curse, I suspect. Is that right?”
“Do you love me?”
“I said, ‘Is that right?’” she replied harshly.
“And I said, ‘Do you love me?’” he said, his heart pounding so hard it hurt, but determined to find out once and for all.
Again she was silent for what seemed an infinity to him, though it could not have been more than half a minute or so.
“It’s defeated Mary,” she said at last. “How do I know it wouldn’t defeat me?”
“Because you don’t resent it, I think,” he said carefully. “You don’t regard it as competition, but as something I have to do to justify my life and make me happy … and to serve my country, as I have been selected to do, which also makes me happy.”
“I love you,” she said slowly, “but whether I can love the law too, that much, even for your sake, I don’t know, Tay … I just don’t know. We’ll have to talk about it some more when you get back. Maybe I’ll have had time to do some more thinking by then.”
“It will probably be sometime next week,” he pointed out, more lightly. “Think fast.”
“Yes,” she said, her tone lightening in response to his. “I’ll try… And now,” she said, suddenly brisk, “good luck with the testimony today. I know it will go well. After all, you just have to tell the truth.”
And the truth, he could sense now as he took the oath and seated himself in the witness chair, was what Regard was after: the truth about Janie, which was not yet public knowledge, and which Regard obviously hoped would stun, shock and enrage the jury. He had no doubt that Regard was right, and testified as fully and matter-of-factly as he could: because after all it was the truth, and hate, though nobly denied, is not all that easy to suppress.
