by Pete Dexter
Townes asked Henry Ray Boxer where he lived, who all lived with him. Henry Ray used his fmgers, giving each one a name of a brother or sister. He didn't know ages.
Townes asked when he had bought the car, how much he paid.
Henry Ray went over the arrangement, mentioning the $227 for insurance. He told about the accident at the gas station and bringing the car back to Paris Trout after it happened.
His testimony went on for most of an hour, with Seagraves objecting only once, at the end, when Henry Ray called the truck driver who had run into him a "damn nigger."
"Your Honor," Seagraves said, standing up, "we are as understanding as anyone of the great divergence of people this matter has brought together, but out of respect for the ladies I would ask the court to instruct the witness to refrain from gratuitous profanity."
"Mr. Boxer," the judge said, "do you understand the meaning of the word 'profanity'?"
"Yessir."
"Then I instruct you not to use it."
"I didn't said it, he did."
"Not the word itself," the judge said, "but the examples thereof."
And Henry Ray Boxer sat still, looking at the judge as if he'd just said there was a twenty-dollar fee to be a witness.
"Thank you," Seagraves said, and sat down.
Townes smiled, the first time that morning. "That's all I have for now," he said, and turned the witness over for cross-examination.
Harry Seagraves walked toward Henry Ray Boxer slowly, scratching his head. He felt the jury watching him. He would have made them wait — he liked to build a feeling — but then he noticed Trout was staring at the witness in a way he did not want the jury to see, as if the boy had just walked in and told him all over again that he wasn't going to pay.
"Henry Ray Boxer," he said. The boy did not reply. "That is your name?"
"Yessir."
"Henry Ray, where was the last car you bought before the one from Mr. Trout?"
"Didn't have none before this."
"Didn't you buy a car from Mr. William Sutter in Eatonton?"
He shook his head. "I haven't bought no car from Mr. Sutter."
"Weren't you driving Mr. Sutter's car the time you ran into Mr. Louie Veal?"
"No sir."
"That was a different car?"
Henry Ray moved in his chair. "No sir, that was a truck."
"You weren't driving the car in question .... "
"What question is that?"
There was some laughter in back, Seagraves smiled and shook his head. "The car you agreed to purchase from Mr. Trout."
"No sir, a lumber truck hit that."
Ward Townes stood up then, looking tired, and objected to everything about Mr. Louie Veal, saying it was included only to prejudice the jury. Judge Taylor sustained.
Seagraves walked back to his table and picked up his notes. "Now, how much did you tell Mr. Townes there that you paid?"
"Eight hundred."
"Could it have been more?"
"Could have, I don't know."
"Don't you know what you paid for it?"
"I didn't pay for it," he said. "I was gone pay on it."
"But it was eighty-five dollars, even money, every month?"
"I don't know even money or not."
Seagraves tossed the papers back across his desk. "It looks to me, if you wanted to tell the truth about this thing, that you could tell us. You ought to remember how much you paid."
"Eight hundred," the boy said. "Assurance ran it up to thousand twenty-seven."
Seagraves sighed and then looked at the jury. Half of them came from Homewood and worked at the asylum. They had sewage and city drinking water because of him. "You bought the car from Mr. Trout," he said, without looking at the witness, "tore it up, and then refused to pay on it because Mr. Trout wouldn't fix it?"
"Yessir."
"Was it running when you brought it back?"
"Yessir, it was running, but it was tore up so."
"And you won't drive a car like that — "
"No sir, I don't drive no ragged car."
He turned away and asked the next question. "Have you got a license, Henry Ray?"
"Yessir."
"Is that the same license Chief Norland looked at the day when he arrested you for running over Mr. Veal?"
"That is the same one."
Townes stood up, making the same objection. Judge Taylor sustained.
Seagraves put his hands deep in his pants pockets and bent as if he were looking for something on the floor. "Had you done business with Mr. Trout before you bought this car?"
Henry Ray nodded.
Seagraves looked directly into the jury again. "These folks can't hear you unless you talk, Henry Ray. They come here to try and find out what really happened out to your house, and they need to hear all your answers, not just the ones you feel like giving."
Judge Taylor said, "The witness will answer the question."
"What question was it?" Henry Ray said.
Seagraves turned back slowly. "The question was, had you ever done business with Mr. Trout before you bought this car?"
"I borrowed money away from him."
"Good. Now can you tell us how much you owed?"
The boy shrugged. "'Bout twenty-five, I expect."
"Are you sure it wasn't a hundred?"
"No, sir, it wasn't no hundred dollars."
"But you owed him something."
"Yessir, I paid him along on that too."
Seagraves went back to the table and consulted his notes again.
"Now, that pistol your brother Tommy has out there, whose pistol is it?"
"Mr. Lyle's."
"Your stepfather?"
"Yessir."
"So in other words, on the day of the shooting Tommy had Lyle McNutt°s pistol out there?"
"I don't know, sir. I wasn't home."
"Did Tommy have your pistol out there that day too?"
"No sir, I don't have one."
Seagraves froze, as if something had reached out and touched him in the night. Then, moving only his head, he looked up at the witness.
"What did you do with it?"
"I never had it to do nothing with it."
"Am I mistaken," he said, "or weren't you convicted for carrying a pistol in 1954, right in this courthouse?"
"That was Mr. Lyle's pistol, I was bringing it from Eatonton."
"But you were convicted here."
"Yessir."
"You were found guilty."
"I don't know, sir, if I was found or not."
"Didn't they give you two months' sentence?"
"No sir, not that they said."
"Didn't they fine you twenty-five dollars? You remember that, don't you?"
Ward Townes finally stood up again, Seagraves was surprised he'd allowed it to go as far as he had. "Your Honor," he said, "the attorney for Mr. Trout has exceeded the limits of fairness. This line of questioning has been employed only for prejudice, and you and I and everyone in this courtroom knows there is enough of that here already."
"Overruled," the Judge said.
But as Townes spoke, Seagraves watched the jury. There were three of them he could read clearly, a couple of others that he was beginning to. He did not like what he saw.
"I'm through with this witness," he said.
* * *
TOWNES CALLED THOMAS BOXER. He was smaller than his brother, and more delicate-looking. In some ways, Seagraves thought, he resembled the pictures of Rosie Sayers. He settled into the witness chair after he was sworn and then jumped at the sound of his name.
"Thomas," Townes said, "you were at the house the day Mr. Trout and Mr. Devonne came to see your brother?"
Thomas Boxer told the story, what he had seen and heard. It took him a long time, but it came out true. Trout and Devonne on the porch with their guns, the things that were said and done. Trout following Rosie into the house, Mary McNutt following him, and then Buster Devonne coming in behind. T
homas Boxer looked at his hands when he said he had run into the other side of the house.
"Why did you go in there, Thomas?" Townes asked.
"Went in there to get out the way."
"Do you know what else happened?"
"Shooting," he said. "Shooting started before I got to the door."
"How many shots?"
He shook his head. "You couldn't say. Seem like firecrackers. They was almost all together, all of it didn't take but four or five seconds."
"What happened after the shooting stopped?"
"After the shooting I went out to the back, there was Momma and Rosie both coming out the house. Momma holding herself here on her breast, Rosie holding her 'tomach."
"Did you see Mr. Trout or Mr. Buster back there?"
"No sir, they gone by then."
'°Was there a pistol in the house at the time all this happened?"
"Yessir, on my side. Right under my mattress."
"Did you ever get that pistol?"
"No sir, I never bothered it till the next morning when they come out after it. I give it to a police."
"Did you fight Mr. Trout any? Did you put your hand on him?"
"No sir."
"Did he put his hand on you?"
"Yessir, but he didn't have his hand on me but a little while. He didn't touch nothing long, but when he left his hands off us, we was changed for good."
Townes stood quietly a moment, giving that time to sink in. Then he looked at Trout and said, "Your witness."
* * *
SEAGRAVES STOOD UP, undecided as to how that last remark had affected the jury. He looked at them again, trying to remember which ones were indebted to him for their city water, but in some way that would not quite come clear, they were not as familiar as they had been an hour before. He smiled, glancing down at the pad in front of Trout. j He was drawing cartoons — ducks shooting guns at each other.
"He didn't touch us long, but when he left his hands off us, we was changed for good." Seagraves repeated the boy's words in a monotone as if he were reading them.
"Yessir."
"Could you tell us how things were before Mr. Trout changed them?"
"I don't know that I exactly could," the boy said.
"Well, let's see. When you needed money, where did you go to borrow?"
The boy did not answer.
"Did Mr. Trout come to you, or did you go to him?"
"He come out that day."
"I'm not talking about the day of the shooting right now," Seagraves said. "We'll talk about that later. Right now I want to know about this beatific life you-all had that Mr. Trout changed."
The boy moved in his seat. "I didn't say it was that," he said.
Seagraves closed his eyes. "What I am getting at here is that Paris Trout was part of the reason you had the good life you did. That he had been a friend to your family, loaned you money when you needed it, and would still be a friend if you hadn't tried to cheat him on this car."
The boy did not answer.
"Am I going too fast?"
"No sir."
"Then answer the question."
"I didn't hear none."
"The question I asked you was to describe the life that you say Mr. Trout changed."
The boy paused. "Rosie's life," he said.
Seagraves felt it getting away from him now. He looked again at the jury and saw the size of his mistake. "Now sir," he said, "when Mr. Trout came up on the porch, did he do anything to threaten you?"
"He put his hand back of my collar, you know naturally that would threaten anybody."
"Were you scared?"
"No sir, I recognize they wasn't coming up there for me. I had one payment before that was overdue, and I just paid them on up."
"Why did you grab Mr. Trout by the neck then?"
"I never grabbed Mr. Trout. I never raised my hand."
"Did you try to fight Mr. Trout?"
"I didn't attempt to fight. If I did, Mr. Buster was glad to shoot me."
"That was the reason you didn't fight?"
"Nobody would fight, somebody got a pistol on them."
Seagraves held his head as if he were dizzy. "All right," he said, "you say Rosie ran into the house, then Mr. Trout, and then your mother."
"Walked," he said. "She just walk in there calm."
"You saw that? She just walked in nice and slow?"
"No sir, she was walking pert. She don't ever walk slow."
"Did you see the rest?"
"I didn't see it all," he said. "I didn't stayed out there. I saw him when he caught up to Rosie, that is the only thing."
"Did you see him hit her?"
"He grabbed her by the head. I don't know what else. He might of hit her."
"You are the gentleman who was there, and you can't say if she was hit or not?"
"Yessir, he hit her with something. I saw the place on her head."
Seagraves moved closer to the jury. "All right," he said, "and then you ducked in the house. Is that where your rifle is?"
"Yessir."
"It's a .22, single-shot rifle?"
"Yessir."
"Did you mean to get it out?"
"Don't I have a right to protect my house?"
"Awhile ago you said you ducked in there because you were scared. Why did you say that?"
"I was scared," the boy said. "I'm naturally scared when somebody is shooting."
Seagraves saw the boy's fingers were shaking. "Which is it? Were you scared or were you mad?"
"Yessir," he said.
"You were scared enough to shoot somebody with your .22 rifle, but you weren't scared enough to shoot them with a pistol?"
"I don't know how to shoot no pistol," he said.
"Then why was it under your mattress? Why take it from your stepfather in the first place?"
"I didn't have no reason, I just liked it," he said.
"Do you know what perjury is?" Seagraves asked. "Do you know it is a crime in this state to tell a lie under oath?"
"I know it."
"I'll ask again. Why did you want it on your side of the house then?"
"I could take what I wanted on my side. Mr. Lyle don't mind what I take."
Seagraves leaned closer to the boy and spoke to the jury. "The truth is," he said, "that gun wasn't there, was it? It was on the other side, and you took it out of there after the shooting, didn't you?"
"No sir, I had it before."
Seagraves shook his head. "All right, you said Mr. Devonne had a gun too."
"I saw the print of it through his coat."
"Did he say anything while this was going on?"
The boy shrugged. "He didn't say a mumbling word the whole time."
"He just walked in, without rhyme or reason, and began to shoot? Does that make sense to you?"
"I don't know," the boy said. "I never seen people act out like that before."
Seagraves walked back to the defense table and saw that Trout had filled the page. Ducks, mice, guns, pools of steaming blood. A woodpecker smoking a cigarette. He was beginning to draw walls and a window, to make the scene indoors.
"I have no further questions," he said.
Judge Taylor consulted his watch and broke for lunch. It was ten thirty-five, and Paris Trout was out the door before any of the spectators.
* * *
TROUT CROSSED TOWN ON foot, using alleys and backyards, and arrived at the Ether County Retirement Home in ten minutes.
He walked through the lobby without signing the visitors' book, without acknowledging the nurse sitting behind the reception desk. There was a rule that visitors had to sign in and residents had to sign out, but the nurse looked at Trout and decided not to make an issue.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked into room 26 without knocking. His mother was sitting in a wheelchair near the sink, naked.
A fat Negro woman in a green uniform was kneeling in front of her, sponging her feet. The woman looked over her s
houlder at the sound of the door, stopping for a moment, and then rinsed the sponge in a bowl of dirty water and started up the old woman's legs. She knew Trout from other visits.
Trout sat down on the unmade bed, watching. His mother's toenails were yellow and thick and had not been cut in a long time. They had not grown straight but followed along the curve of her toes, reminding him somehow of talons.
Her legs were thin and bruised, unshaved.
Her lap was hidden by the way she sat in the chair, a little tuft of gray hair showing at the top. "Miz Trout be finished here in a few minutes, you want to wait outside," the woman said.
Trout did not move.
The sponge went over his mother's knees and then moved to her chest and stomach. He saw little bumps rise on her arms, chicken skin. The woman stood and pulled her halfway out of her chair. His mother's chin rested on the woman's shoulder while she washed her back and bottom.
"There now," the woman said, "we be done in a jiffy." She dropped the old lady back into the chair and studied her work. There was a wet shine over her, top to bottom, and she had begun to shake.
The woman walked into the bathroom and came back with a towel and bent over the old lady, going back over what she had done. She was drying the chest when she noticed the old lady's breathing. "Lord a mercy," she said, "something got Miz Trout excited today."
He saw the rise and fall of her stomach too, it was spasmodic, as if she were crying. "I bet she knows you come to see her," the woman said. "I bet she knows you here." The woman moved until her face was in front of his mother's. "You know your sonny boy come to visit, didn't you?"
She opened the closet door and came out with a white nightgown. She fit it over the old lady's head and then her body, tugging at the arms to get them into the sleeves.
"People 'round here say Miz Trout don't realize a day has passed the last five years, but she knows more than they think."
She took the combs out of the old lady's hair and then smoothed it as it fell, the ends just touching the floor.
"You want to comb your momma's hair?" the woman said. "Sometime peoples like to comb their mothers' hair .... " She thought for a minute. "But I expect it's ladies like to do that, ain't it?"
Without a word Trout stood up and walked out the door.
* * *
