by Judith Pella
Yet like many young lawyers, he’d been enticed by the challenge of the courtroom and by the desire to help those in need, innocents brought before the court for deeds they had not committed. He did not care for the prospect of making his living helping the rich find ways to become richer. So he’d allowed himself to be enticed once more, this time by Maggie’s faith in him, to help Tommy. He’d even let himself forget just how ill he’d become in the past.
He supposed he should be thankful that when he stood before the court he’d been able to comport himself with some dignity, aside from spilling his papers and cracking his voice. He thought he’d hid his inner turmoil fairly well once he got going. Certainly no one could tell that moments before he’d been in an alley losing his breakfast. Once or twice during the proceedings yesterday he thought he might have to make a quick escape to the courthouse alley, but by sheer force of will he had curbed his nausea and continued.
“Evan, is that you?”
Evan nearly jumped a foot. Guilt and shame sent flames of heat up his neck. It was Zack.
“Are you all right?” Zack asked.
It was quite futile to hide it, so Evan shook his head.
Zack walked into the alley a few steps, took in the scene, and stopped. “Maybe you don’t want me here,” he offered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Evan mumbled.
“Can I do anything?”
“Nothing to be done.” Evan closed his eyes and let his head bang against the wall. The pain of the impact did no good. He thought to brush off his illness by telling Zack it was just a temporary stomach complaint. Then he remembered that Zack had once been a minister, true only a fake one, but from what Evan had heard, he’d been well thought of. And it appeared he had recently been called by God to become a real minister. Perhaps he had some God-given wisdom that could help. So he confessed, “I get sick every time I must appear before an audience.”
Zack’s eyes strayed to the mess in the dirt as if for confirmation. He nodded. “Must be a terrible feeling. I once knew an actor in San Francisco who got terribly sick before every performance. He called it stage fright. Do you think that’s what you have?”
“Something similar at least. Were you ever nervous before preaching?”
“At first, but I sort of warmed up to it. For me it wasn’t getting up in front of a crowd that got to me. It was worrying about remembering my ‘lines.’ ” Zack went on, “I kind of enjoyed preaching. I hope that doesn’t change when I do it for real.”
“Then you can’t understand what I am experiencing.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t, but if I needed to experience everyone’s pain before I could help them, it’d be almost impossible to minister to them. Now that I think of it, I do know how to help you. How about we pray together right now?”
“I’ve been praying about this problem for a long time,” Evan said. “I have begged God to cure it, and it still hasn’t gone away. I have almost decided to give up my chosen profession.”
“Maybe it doesn’t need to go away. You seem to comport yourself well once you are before the court. My actor friend was a very good actor. He got rave reviews despite that small weakness.”
“I commend him,” Evan replied glumly. “Imagine having to face every day something that made you physically ill. I don’t know if I could do that.”
“Yes, that would be hard—Wait a minute! This reminds me of something I heard—probably something I preached myself. Someone in the Bible had an ailment, and he prayed and prayed for it to go away, and it never did.”
“I believe that was the apostle Paul.”
“That’s right. I was preaching a sermon on grace.” Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then brightened as he recited, “ ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’ ”
“Yes,” Evan said. “I memorized that verse when I was a child. It goes on to say, ‘For my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ ” Evan smiled ironically. “I am the perfect example of that! At least the weakness part of it.”
“Tell me, Evan, did you get sick like this yesterday?”
“Worse.”
“Then you are an example of the rest of the Scripture, as well,” Zack said triumphantly. “Despite being sick, you got in front of the court and spoke and questioned the jurors. And you did a mighty fine job of it, too.”
“By God’s grace!”
“Doubtless!”
“Thank you for reminding me of these things,” Evan said. “There have been times when I’ve gotten angry at God for giving me this ‘thorn in the flesh.’ I would beg Him to take it from me. I see now I should have been thanking Him for allowing me to perform regardless. I was ready to toss aside the gifts He’s given me in my education and my abilities. Now every time my innards roil, I will use it as an opportunity to praise God.”
“Now, there’s an interesting picture,” quipped Zack. “And it is still a beautiful one.”
“I would still like you to pray with me if you have a moment,” Evan said. He slipped his watch back into his pocket. This was more important than getting to the courtroom on time.
Maggie was worried because Evan was late for court. She looked over at Mrs. Donnelly, who shrugged. She’d said earlier that Evan had left the jail a half hour ago, presumably to come to the courthouse. She had no idea why he hadn’t made it.
When he finally made his appearance, Maggie noted that he looked pale again and a bit green. Was he feeling poorly? Yet there was buoyancy in his step this morning. He was closely followed in by Mr. Cranston. The jury was then hustled in, and finally the sheriff brought in Tommy. The judge was last, and everyone rose as he took his place behind the bench.
Judge Olsen cleared his throat and said, “Before we begin, I must emphasize to all concerned that I expect my sessions to begin on time. I will tolerate no further delays in this proceeding.” He was looking directly at Evan as he spoke. Evan turned an odd shade of plum green.
As the morning progressed, normal color returned to Evan’s skin. But Maggie’s worries were not over, for she now began to fret in earnest about her imminent testimony. The rest of the jurors were selected and then each of the lawyers presented their opening statements. Mr. Cranston said he intended to show that the defendant, with malice and aforethought, did willfully kill his father. He went on for quite a bit about the law and the rule of justice. Maggie’s mind wandered halfway through the monotone ramble.
Evan started off a bit shaky. It didn’t help that as he rose and started forward from his seat, he snagged his foot on the table leg and nearly tripped. His speech was brief. He said he intended to show that the defendant acted in self-defense out of fear for his life, a fear rooted in years, even a lifetime, of abuse by his father. His words were not polished to a slick shine like Mr. Cranston’s, but they were full of sincerity and, toward the end, passion.
After the speeches, Mr. Cranston began calling witnesses. Evan said Cranston had about a dozen witnesses. Maggie groaned inwardly when she was not among the first called.
Mr. Cranston’s witnesses offered nothing that surprised Maggie. The sheriff was questioned first, and he had little to say except to describe the scene he found in the woods where Tom Donnelly had been killed. He also related that Tommy had fled the scene and was on the run for nearly two weeks before he was arrested. Cranston managed to make it appear as if Tommy had been a dangerous fugitive. When Evan cross-examined, he made it clear that Tommy had turned himself in and had committed a heroic act in the process by helping to save Zack’s life from some hoodlums. When the defense presented its case, Zack would have the opportunity to elaborate on this, but for now, Maggie thought this round was at least a draw for both sides.
The next two witnesses questioned were unsavory sorts, not from Maintown, and strangers to Maggie. They told how Tommy had often accompanied his father to the St. Helens taverns and also to other unsavory activities. In cross-examination Evan was able to impugn their characters—he actually got one to admit to cattle rustling! W
hen this fellow finished his testimony, the sheriff led him away. By the time Evan finished with those two, no one believed anything they said.
The next witness was a Maintown man, Donald Weller. Maggie didn’t know him well. He didn’t attend her Brethren of Christ church, but her father probably knew him because he worked at the sawmill and owned a small farm. He testified that he had once caught Tommy stealing some of his chickens. Maggie glanced at Tommy and saw him sink down in his chair a couple of inches. It must be true, then.
Well, she’d known Tommy wasn’t the best behaved boy in the county. However, probably all the boys, maybe even Boyd and Georgie, had tried to filch a chicken or two, just for the thrill of it. But Mr. Weller had caught Tommy red-handed, and though he had let Tommy go, the crime was now coming back to haunt him.
Weller was an upstanding citizen, and Evan could do little to nullify his testimony. But he did coax Weller into admitting that the attempted theft had occurred nearly five years ago, and he’d been able to leave the jurors with the idea that a boy can change in five years.
A couple more witnesses testified before lunch in the same vein. Maggie came to realize that Tommy had lived what seemed a double life. One was the person she knew—an easygoing kid who loved to fish and hunt more than anything and who didn’t mind a girl tagging along. The other was the person Tommy became when with his father—a more sinister character who stole chickens, visited taverns and, worst of all, possibly rustled livestock from their neighbors. In her heart Maggie knew Tommy did these things to please his father, a misguided attempt to be accepted by the harsh, cruel man. Yet it was not the kind of picture that would make a jury acquit him.
Evan did his best to punch holes in all this testimony, but it appeared these people were telling the truth, or what they believed was the truth, as in the case of those who didn’t actually see Tommy commit acts but had guessed from various clues at their disposal. The most Evan could do was make it apparent to the jury that the testimony was hearsay, and thus put doubt in their minds.
Maggie was quite deflated when the midday recess came and she still hadn’t been called to testify. Her new resolve to tell the truth was wavering, especially after hearing some of the incriminating testimony. She needed more reassurance from Evan, but before she could get to him, Mr. Cranston waylaid him. The two lawyers spoke quietly for a few minutes. Maggie thought Evan was turning green again.
He finished with Mr. Cranston and was hurrying toward the door. Maggie fairly ran after him.
“Evan!” she called.
He paused and turned. He looked as if he’d swallowed a huge green frog. “I can’t talk now, Maggie!” he said abruptly and started forward again.
She was about to go after him when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around with an angry glare on her face. “What!” she blurted impatiently. It was Zack.
“Maggie, let him go,” he said.
“I have to talk to him.”
“He’s pretty busy,” Zack said with far more patience than she had displayed. “He probably has many things to prepare before the next session.”
“But this is important!” Then, against the advice of one of the smartest people she knew, she hurried away.
She thought Evan might have gone to his hotel to work, but since the jail was closer, she decided to look there first. The sheriff said he hadn’t seen Evan since the recess. Outside, she began to question her impulsive behavior. It was selfish of her to foist her problems on Evan when he had much larger things to worry about. Besides, she already knew what he would tell her. She had to tell the truth. There simply was no way out.
If only Mr. Cranston would call her soon so she could get over her suffering!
She was about to head back to her cousin’s house for a bite of dinner when she heard a peculiar sound coming from the alley behind the jail. It sounded like a sick animal. Turning into the alley, she saw a human figure bent retching. She also recognized the person.
“Evan?”
Though the midday sunlight didn’t fully penetrate the alley, there was enough light for her to see his face when he looked up at her. Her heart quaked at the misery she discerned in his expression.
“Evan, what’s wrong?” She started toward him.
“Go away!” he rasped.
“But you are not well—”
“Leave me alone!”
“But—”
“Please!” he begged, then bent over again.
She was torn. Foremost was the urge to go to him, put her arms around him, and comfort him. But she also had enough sense to know a man wouldn’t want to be observed in such a humiliating position. The sound of his voice as he beseeched her was proof of that.
When he finished and dabbed his lips with a handkerchief, he said in a thin, strained voice, “I’ll . . . be all right. Please, just go.”
Dear Evan, so polite even when he was beyond distressed.
She could not argue further. She just had to trust it really wasn’t anything serious. She turned and exited the alley, cringing when she heard that retching sound again as she walked away.
Leaving him there alone in his misery was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Maggie had never been much of what Mama called a “prayer warrior.” Of course she believed in prayer. She just wasn’t faithful about it like Mama or even Ellie. Yet, as the trial began again that afternoon, she found herself silently praying over and over for Evan. She all but forgot her worry about her own testimony.
She quickly saw what had probably upset Evan. The first witness for the prosecution after the recess was none other than Colby! She was fairly certain that was not what Evan had expected. He had told her about the prosecution’s witnesses because, as was customary, both sides revealed their witnesses before the trial began. Evan would have told her if Colby was going to testify. Maggie wondered if that’s what Mr. Cranston had spoken to Evan about before they left the courtroom. It smelled of a dirty trick to Maggie, and she knew a little about being devious. Cranston surely knew of the altercation between Colby and Evan and about Evan’s humiliation in losing that fight. What better way to disconcert him during the trial than to unexpectedly spring an adversary upon Evan, whom Mr. Cranston must know was already quite nervous.
Worse still was the fact that Colby was an “unassailable” witness, as Evan would have termed it. He was the son of one of the most respected men in the community. Every word he spoke would be believed. Moreover, Colby may have his faults, which Maggie was becoming more and more aware of, but she knew he was not a liar.
Colby told the court of an incident that occurred a year ago in which Tommy Donnelly tried to sell a horse to the Stoddards. Albert Stoddard knew enough not to have any dealings with Tom, but it was Tommy who did the negotiations, and Albert had a soft heart and could not shut down the boy despite his misgivings. Turned out the horse had been stolen.
Maggie noted that, as before, Tommy reacted to Colby’s words with signs of guilt. His cheeks colored, and he sank down in his chair. Maggie sighed inwardly.
“Now, I’m not saying Tommy himself stole that horse,” Colby testified. “Tommy said his father had bought the horse from a drifter who needed some quick cash. But Tommy said”—the way Colby spoke that word said had skepticism all over it—“he lost the bill of sale. My dad wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. He told me, ‘That boy needs a break. Maybe the money will do the boy and his family some good.’ ”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Evan cut in. “Again, the prosecution is presenting hearsay testimony.”
“Overruled, counselor,” the judge returned. “I am going to allow it because I understand that Albert Stoddard is ill and cannot be here to testify in person.”
With a pointed glance at Evan, Mr. Cranston asked, “Mr. Stoddard, were you present during this transaction?”
“For most of it.”
“Then your testimony is, for the most part, a firsthand a
ccounting of the incident?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you tell the court what young Tommy Donnelly’s reaction was when he heard the horse had been stolen?”
“He denied knowing anything about it. But my father is a pretty good judge of people, and he could see Tommy really did know—”
“Objection!” exclaimed Evan.
“Sustained,” the judge replied almost wearily.
Maggie had a feeling he didn’t think much of Evan, and it worried her that he might be conveying this attitude to the jury.
The judge added, “Mr. Stoddard, please confine your answers to facts.”
“Well, Your Honor, it’s a fact that there was no bill of sale!” Colby declared triumphantly.
“I have no further questions,” Mr. Cranston said.
Evan remained seated, looking as if he was weighed down by a lead ball. His skin still had a grayish green tinge. Maggie prayed harder.
“Mr. Parker, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?” asked the judge.
“Not at this time, Your Honor, but I request that the witness remain close in case there is need to question him later,” Evan replied.
At first, upon hearing Evan’s response, Maggie thought he had capitulated, giving in to his fear. But upon further thought, she realized this was the only move he could have made. There was no way he could discredit Colby’s testimony in the eyes of the jury, so instead he probably opted to give him no further opportunity to speak. Hopefully his short testimony would be lost in the mix. Maggie thought Evan would be pleased at how she was beginning to think like a lawyer.
The afternoon dragged on with more prosecution witnesses of the same ilk. Maggie began to think her testimony was going to be put off another day. According to Evan, the most important witnesses were questioned early in the day when the jury was fresh. So Mr. Cranston might be saving her for the morning. If she was called today, it could indicate her testimony wasn’t as significant as she thought. There was one other possibility. It came to her around four o’clock in the afternoon when her name was suddenly called. What if she was the prosecution’s finale? Mr. Cranston might rest his case after she testified, leaving her words echoing with a kind of finality in the jury’s collective mind.
