by Glenn Trust
It seemed wrong at first, to stay in the house. The apartment over the barn was George's, then George and Sharon's. The house was Fel's. It was where he lived with his wife, shared days and nights...life...with her. Even though the old couple was gone, there had been the uneasy feeling that George and Sharon were intruding on their privacy.
Sharon had become somewhat accustomed to staying in the house, when George had gone to Macon to prepare for the trial. Gradually, she convinced him that they were not intruding. They were family, as Fel had often said. He left the house and farm to them. It was theirs. It was where Fel wanted them to be.
"I can't watch it." Side by side on the porch, watching the night come on Sharon wrapped her fingers tightly in George's. "You know that Mackey, don't you?"
"I know." He squeezed her hand and held on.
She had to say more. "It's just that...I can't stand to see what they are going to do to you...what they want to do to you...to us." She brushed at a tear that fell wetly down her cheek. "The things they'll say...and then...if they take you...away." She began to sob softly.
George released his grip on her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. He didn't speak. There was nothing to say that they hadn't already said, or that would make things better. Things were not going to be better, maybe ever again. It was their great fear.
When the stars were out and the hum of the night life filled the darkness, they went to bed. They did not make love. They lay on the cool sheets, clinging to each other in the dark, afraid to let go.
*****
The trial of George Mackey began on a bright morning almost three years from the day he squeezed the trigger and sent Leyland Torkman to hell. Crowds of reporters and the general public packed the Bibb County courthouse.
Camera crews lined the walkways in front of the courthouse. Agents Bill Twilley and John Simpson escorted George in, avoiding the throng, using the building's rear entrance. On notice that their careers were on the line if Mackey disappeared again, no matter what the cause, they stayed close.
The trial lasted two weeks. The first week was devoted to the prosecution's case that George Mackey executed a murder suspect, by doing so committed murder himself, and in the process violated the public trust as a sworn law enforcement officer.
Colton Swain spoke eloquently, powerfully. There had been no trial. No jury had determined that the killer was guilty or that he deserved to die. Mackey tracked him down and then when he confronted him he shot him at point blank range.
Expert witnesses were paraded in front of the jury. Crime scene forensics experts demonstrated that the evidence indicated that the suspect was shot while he was injured and did not have a weapon in his hand. Others spoke about the sanctity of the public trust and the need for law enforcement officers to be above reproach.
Instructors from the Police Officers Standards and Training Academy George attended eighteen years earlier were called to testify. Reluctantly, they confirmed that he was properly instructed in the use of deadly force and that use of excessive force in apprehending a suspect was a violation of the law and the suspect's constitutionally protected rights.
Trenton Peele cross-examined each witness with great skill, throwing as much doubt as he could on the evidence as interpreted by the prosecution's experts. At the end of the first week, he left the courtroom with George at his side. In the hallway, he held an impromptu press conference.
"All right ladies and gentlemen." Peele raised his hands to the gaggle of reporters gathered and blocking the way. "You've heard the prosecution's feeble attempt to sully the character of a man who is considered by many to be a hero. Starting next week we'll be presenting our case and when we do the cloud of mystery and conspiracy will vanish and you will see the truth for what it is. George Mackey is a hero who, at great peril to himself, tracked down a desperate killer and in the course of attempting to arrest this dangerous felon, a man who had already committed two known bloody and violent murders, Deputy Mackey was forced to take the life of the suspect."
A reporter in the crowd shouted out above the others. "Are we going to hear from Deputy Mackey? Will he take the stand and testify in his own behalf?"
Before Peele could respond, George leaned forward and spoke into a nearby microphone. "Yes. I'll take the stand."
Cameras flashed and recorders whirred. Peele took George by the elbow and pushed the big man into an adjacent conference room. Questions were shouted out as the door slammed.
"When Deputy?"
"What will you say?"
"George, are you going to try and defend yourself?"
Alone in the room, Peele dropped into a chair staring at the deputy. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Not doing anything, Mr. Peele." George looked down at his attorney, slumped in the chair, deflated as if he had just been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry. I know you're putting up the best defense you can. I appreciate it." He waited for Peele to look up. "It's my trial. I'm going to have my say before it's over." George's voice was firm.
Peele looked up at the room's acoustic tiled ceiling, quiet, thinking for a long while. George waited. Finally, Trenton Peele shrugged and stood up.
"All right. It's your trial. It's your life. Might be your funeral." Peele walked from the room without saying anything else.
The second week of the trial brought the defense's experts. One by one, they spoke to the misinterpretation of the evidence by the prosecution's witnesses. Two different psychologists testified regarding the stress a law enforcement officer would be under in a confrontation with a desperate killer. They pointed out that what might be considered excessive force in some situations, in other circumstances would be normal and a part of the continuing confrontation with the perpetrator. Such use of force would be very different from the pre-meditated murder the prosecution claimed.
Bob Shaklee was called to review his investigation of the shooting as the GBI agent responsible at the time. He remained unruffled by Swain's attempts to draw into question his findings and possible complicity in covering up Mackey's shooting of an unarmed suspect.
On the last day of the trial, Sharon showed up, not wanting to be there, but unable not to be. She sat along the rail behind George in a seat Peele reserved for her. During a recess, they stood close together and spoke.
"What are you going to say, Mackey?" They stood facing each other both hands holding the other’s.
"I don't know exactly." He shook his head. "Sounds silly, I guess. I said I wanted to testify, but I really don't know what to say, or if I even want to anymore."
She shook her head slowly and then laid it on his chest, taking in the smell of him. Was this the last time they would touch like this, surrounded by strangers in a crowded courtroom? She raised her head, nodded and put a hand on his chest where her head had rested. "You'll know, Mackey. Just say what feels right. It'll be right." She stood on her toes and kissed him.
When the trial resumed, George Mackey took the stand. The room was hushed, reporters poised to take notes, members of the public leaning forward in anticipation of George demolishing the prosecution's case or sealing his own fate with the words he would speak.
George was sworn in as a witness for his own defense. Judge Jason Downes went through a series of questions before allowing him to testify.
"Deputy Mackey, has anyone forced or coerced you into testifying today?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Has anyone made any promise to you in exchange for your testimony or suggested that you might receive a reduced sentence if found guilty or given you any other enticement to testify today?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Do you understand that you are not required to say anything in your own defense, that under the constitution you are presumed to be innocent and that the prosecution must prove that you are guilty beyond a reasonable doubt?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Do you understand that you are not required to say anything that might incriminate you
?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Deputy Mackey, are you aware that anything you may say during your testimony may be used against you by the prosecution?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
Judge Downes nodded and removed his glasses. "Deputy, has your counsel advised you about these rights and the possible consequences of testifying in open court in your own behalf?"
George looked at Peele, who returned his gaze evenly. "Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Peele has counseled me."
Downes nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Very well. Proceed."
After a few brief questions by Peele, establishing for the record that George Mackey had been a deputy with the Pickham County Sheriff's Department and that he had investigated the series of killings there, Peele sat down. George began speaking.
It took him thirty minutes. He described the investigation of the brutal murders in Pickham County, the chase of the killer across Georgia from the southern swamps to the Appalachian Mountains, the confrontation in the woods with Leyland Torkman. His voice was thoughtful, soft when he spoke of the final moments of Torkman's life. The room was silent, expectant, each listener wanting to hear every word as it came from George's mouth.
"I stood looking at him. I remember I was breathing hard, partly from running through the woods, partly from...I don't know what...adrenaline maybe. I remember thinking of the girl in the weeds...the old man in the church lot...thinking it had to end. Then he smiled at me and I lifted my arm and pulled the trigger."
Colton Swain was on his feet. Trenton Peele lowered his head into his hands.
Sharon wiped a tear from her face and locked eyes with George. Her mouth moved, forming the words with her lips that he had come to know so well. "I love you, Mackey."
Reporters jumped from their seats, and the other spectators' voices broke into a loud murmur. Judge Downes leaned forward and slammed the gavel down three times. "Be seated," he said to the reporters. "There will be order in this courtroom." He turned to the bailiff. "Anyone who disrupts this proceeding is to be physically removed and held until I can formally charge them with contempt of court."
The bailiff nodded. "Yes sir."
Downes turned to Peele. "Does the defense have any further questions for the witness?"
Peele stared at the table. "No, Your Honor."
Downes looked at the attorney general. "Mr. Swain?"
"Yes, Your Honor, just one question." Swain turned to face George Mackey, a wolfish grin plastered across his face, going for the kill. "Mr. Mackey, you have testified that Leyland Torkman, lay on the ground, injured, that he did not have a weapon in his hand and that you shot him because he..." Swain looked at the jury, his best look of outrage and disbelief now on his face. “...because he smiled at you. Is that correct?"
"He smiled." George nodded. "I shot him. That is correct."
The jury deliberated for four hours. Some considered it an extremely short deliberation. After all, the life of a deputy, the hero of the OSI, hung in the balance.
For others, it seemed like an exceedingly lengthy deliberation. George Mackey had as much as confessed in open court.
After a stern warning from Judge Downes that there were to be no disruptions in the courtroom he asked for the verdict from the jury foreperson. He read it carefully and then looked at the jury.
"Madame Foreperson, is this the correct and unanimous verdict of the jury?"
The woman who had been an elementary school teacher before retiring nodded. "It is, Your Honor."
"Very well." Downes looked at George. "The defendant will rise to receive the verdict." He handed the paper with jury's findings to the clerk of the court. "Please read the verdict."
"Yes, Your Honor."
George stood up quickly. Peele rose beside him like a tired old professor.
“George Mackey, on the charge of murder in the first degree, the jury finds you not guilty."
A humming murmur rose in the courtroom. It quickly subsided when Downes raised his head to look out over his glasses, scanning the faces in the room.
The clerk resumed her reading of the verdict. "On the charge of manslaughter, the jury finds you not guilty. On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder, the jury finds you not guilty. On the charge of violation of the public trust, the jury finds you...guilty."
Sharon sobbed softly into her hands. George looked calmly at Downes waiting.
The humming whispers resumed. Downes chose to ignore them and end the ordeal as quickly as possible. He had prepared for this eventuality. "Mr. Mackey, you are hereby sentenced to eighteen months confinement at the state penitentiary in Jackson, sentence to begin as soon as the clerk can record the verdict and transportation can be arranged by the GBI." He looked around the courtroom and raised the gavel. "This court is adjourned."
The bailiff called for all to rise as the door to the judge's chambers closed behind Downes.
There was no time for Colton Swain to protest the immediate pronouncement of sentence. Downes had offered his own little surprise to the proceedings by being prepared for sentencing immediately after the reading of the verdict. If Swain wanted to object, he would have to do so through appeal. Judge Downes was seated comfortably behind his desk, still in his robes, looking up at the paneled ceiling of his chambers envisioning the stunned and frustrated look on Colton Swain's face, probably still standing by the prosecution's table staring at the judge's closed chamber door. The thought made him smile.
*****
The papers and media pundits agreed that George Mackey would likely have been found not guilty on all counts had he not testified. Legal experts questioned the judgment of his counsel, Trenton Peele, and wondered in front of the cameras why George would do so foolish a thing as admit to the killing in open court. A few even went so far as to say that Deputy Mackey's testimony was not born out of any honorable intention to be honest, truthful and to take responsibility for his actions, but that it was the result of a narcissistic need to be the center of attention
It was the subject of much discussion on the Sunday community events shows and talk radio around the state. Most agreed that the jury was inclined to accept the defense's interpretation of events, but that George had tied their hands with his testimony and blunt answer to Swain's final question. They felt they had to convict on some charge and chose the lesser of those presented. This was confirmed by several jury members who felt pressure because they had not found George not guilty on all charges.
For his part, although Colton Swain won a guilty verdict on one count, the case was generally considered a resounding failure for the man who never lost a case. His staff avoided him for several weeks, only bringing absolutely essential matters to him. Occasionally, they heard the sound of his pen being thrown violently down on his desk. The assumption was that their boss still stung over having his ass handed to him by the jury in an extraordinarily public manner. It was an accurate assumption.
Richard Klineman left Atlanta as quickly as he could. Returning to the house he owned in Pickham County, he kept a low profile. Relieved that he had not landed in prison himself as a result of his secret alliance with Roy Budroe, he had no plans to run for sheriff again, or any other public office for that matter.
The further review into Bob Shaklee's handling of the shooting investigation faded quietly away. Swain had no intention of going into court again on the matter. Relieved, Andy Barnes moved out of Shaklee's office when Governor Bell reinstated Bob as the director of the OSI.
*****
Sharon watched from the porch as the van made its way slowly up the drive. Mike Darlington drove. Meera Davies sat in the passenger seat. When it rocked gently to a stop in front of the house, Mike got out and went around to the large sliding panel door on the side. He opened it and lowered a hydraulic lift.
"Hey Sharon. How goes it?" Sandy Davies smiled and waved from his wheelchair as it lowered to the ground on the lift.
She stood and descended the porch steps to stand by the van. Sand
y's face was still battered and scarred, but not as much as before. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then turned to Meera and gave her a hug. "I'm really glad you came by."
"How you holding up?" Sandy reached out from the wheelchair and took her hand.
"Okay." She shrugged. "Sometimes not so good. I miss him."
"I know. I miss him too."
"And you? Healing up okay?"
"Yeah. They say they'll be fitting me with a prosthetic in a couple of months. Working on rehab now. They'll start skin grafts soon." He looked at her and smiled again, the scars twisting in red puffy lines across his cheeks. "It's gonna be okay...for both of us...all of us."
Sharon nodded and wiped at a tear. "Damn...seems like all I do anymore is tear up like some girl or something."
They laughed and then all sat quietly together on the porch steps so they could be near Sandy.
*****
"I love you girl."
"I love you, Mackey."
They wasted no time with unnecessary words. The calls they allowed George were brief. He spent most of his days in confinement away from other prisoners waiting for the next chance to call, or for the next visitation. Other than that, he read and took walks alone around the prison yard when they allowed him outside. It was never with the general prison population. George Mackey might have been a hero to the rest of Georgia, but to the inmates in Jackson he was just a cop in prison.
"I have to go now darlin'. Time's up."
They repeated words that began and finished every conversation now, the words that bound them and kept them whole despite the distance and isolation.
"Okay. I love you, Mackey."
"I love you too."
The call ended. George Mackey was escorted back to his cell. He lay on his back, awake long into the night, staring at the reinforced concrete overhead. He closed his eyes and the vision of her face, her smile, her body, all of the little memories that made up the picture of Sharon Price in his mind surrounded him and helped him not to think of the loss of another day, a day without her.
