Three cafés were clustered around the courthouse square. Adisa opted for a new restaurant that specialized in soups, salads, gourmet sandwiches, and pastries. The café was empty, so Adisa sat at a table that looked out on the courthouse square and ate a muffuletta sandwich.
Toward the end of the quick meal, she glanced across the street and saw Theodore Grayson walk into the courthouse. The only errand Adisa had to run before returning to the hospital was a short trip to the grocery store. Putting that off, she crossed the street and entered the courthouse.
Theo Grayson was standing at the foot of a broad staircase talking to a short, dark-haired man Adisa didn’t recognize. Mr. Grayson turned around, looked at her for a second, and then smiled.
“Adisa Johnson?” he asked, extending his hand. “I don’t have any contact with you since your junior year in high school, and now I talk to you on the phone and see you in person in less than a week. Are you visiting your aunt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh,” Grayson said. “Excuse me. This is Jasper Baldwin, our district attorney.”
Baldwin was meticulously dressed in a blue suit with a crisp white shirt and carefully knotted yellow tie. The DA shook her hand as Grayson explained who she was and where he thought she worked. It would have been awkward for Adisa to interrupt and inform him that she’d been fired.
“She’s made it to the big time in Atlanta,” Grayson finished.
“You worked in Atlanta, didn’t you?” Baldwin asked Grayson.
“Yeah, I spent a year or so slaving for a big firm when I graduated from law school, but I wasn’t cut out for it. They had me tangled up in Section 5 securities work. It drove me crazy, so I ran back home to be closer to my grandmother’s cooking.”
The DA checked his wristwatch.
“I know you’re in a hurry,” Grayson said to the DA. “But I want a chance to bend your ear for a few minutes before you make a final decision on moving forward with Officer Nelson’s case.”
“You and a hundred other people on both sides of the issue,” the DA replied with a harried look.
“Have you considered hiring a special prosecutor?” Adisa interjected.
“What?” Baldwin turned and looked at Adisa as if seeing her for the first time.
“It might be a good idea in a politically charged case like this to bring in someone from the outside,” she said.
“That thought crossed my mind,” Baldwin said slowly. “But I’m not sure where the money would come from. My budget is razor thin.”
“There are creative ways to fund special projects if the county commissioners see the benefit of going in that direction,” Adisa responded.
Baldwin glanced at his watch again.
“Speaking of special treatment, I’m going to get the kind of treatment I don’t want if I don’t head upstairs. I’m supposed to be in front of Judge Morris right now. Nice to meet you,” he said to Adisa.
The DA took the stairs two at a time. Grayson remained behind with Adisa.
“It sounded like you were lobbying for a job,” the older lawyer said. “How would serving as a special prosecutor fit in with your required billable hours at Dixon and White?”
“I’m no longer working at Dixon and White.”
Grayson raised one of his white eyebrows. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“And I’d like some advice if you have a few minutes to spare.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder. “There’s a small conference room in the corner where lawyers meet with clients before going upstairs to the courtroom. Let’s see if it’s empty.”
Adisa followed Grayson, who tapped lightly on the door, and when no one answered he pushed it open. Inside was a tiny room containing a small square table surrounded by four plastic chairs.
“What was this?” Adisa asked. “A broom closet?”
“Close,” Grayson replied. “This was where they kept janitorial supplies when the city government used prisoners from the jail to clean the building. Now that’s handled by an outside service with employees who pose less of a security risk.”
Adisa could imagine a posse of black men mopping the floors and cleaning the tall, narrow windows. She and Grayson sat down at the table.
“How can I help you?” the older lawyer asked, adjusting his glasses.
Adisa briefly told him about the impact of the AJC article.
“I thought I was going to Boston and getting a big promotion,” she said. “Now I’m not sure what to do. I have a solid job lead with a boutique firm in Atlanta that works in the merger and acquisition field, but I’m concerned about Aunt Josephine and who’s going to make sure she gets the care she needs. My sister and I are the only real family she has.”
“And you’re thinking about moving back to Campbellton?” Grayson asked.
“I don’t want to, but my sister put the bug in my ear about it, and I have to at least consider the possibility on a temporary basis.”
“The roots of home are harder to cut than most people realize,” Grayson replied. “Especially for families like ours that have been here for many, many generations.”
If she hadn’t been to the cemetery so recently, Adisa wouldn’t have identified with the older lawyer’s words. Now she did.
“I’ve felt that connection even though I wasn’t born here,” she admitted. “It’s strange.”
“But not surprising, and I respect you for not pushing those thoughts away.”
“That’s not an option when I look at my aunt lying in a hospital bed. Who knows what would have happened to my sister and me if she hadn’t taken us in.”
Grayson was silent for a moment. “If you came back to Campbellton, what type of law would you like to practice?”
“I couldn’t be a general practitioner. I’d be a malpractice claim waiting to happen.”
“No one does general practice anymore, at least not well,” Grayson replied. “All of us find a niche or two and try to develop our skills to a high level. It makes the practice of law more enjoyable and profitable. Litigation has been my wheelhouse for years with occasional forays into government law.”
Adisa remembered Grayson handling criminal cases when she interned at the firm.
“Do you still take criminal cases?”
“Less and less,” Grayson answered. “It takes a lot of fire in your belly to tackle a big-time criminal case. But there are still a few bundles of dry wood left in my gut if the right situation comes along.”
Adisa gave him a puzzled look at the odd description. “Would that include the white police officer’s case?” she asked.
“Like I mentioned in my call, I’m trying to find a lawyer for him. What kind of practice would you enjoy?”
“I enjoy any form of corporate work, especially if it involves numbers. I love unraveling financial statements and working with forensic accountants.”
“Businesses are bought and sold in Nash County, and a lawyer who isn’t intimidated by accounting concepts would have a real edge.”
“Does your firm handle that type of work?” Adisa asked.
“Yes.” Grayson paused. “Michael Williams handles most of our business clients, and he’s planning a once-in-a-lifetime vacation to France with his wife this summer that’s going to take him out of the office for over two months. There might be a way to cobble together enough work to keep you busy and help us out if you believe you should be in town to look after your aunt.”
Adisa barely hid her shock. “That’s very kind of you—” she began and then stopped.
“It’s not an offer, but if you’d like, I can bring it up with my law partners,” Grayson said.
Adisa felt herself being pulled in different directions. She sensed she was on the verge of an offer from Paul Austin’s firm in Atlanta and had just planted a seed in Jasper Baldwin’s mind about being hired as a special prosecutor. But working for Theo Grayson in a low-stress environment as a fill-in lawyer would be a perfect position to hold while Adi
sa helped Aunt Josie recuperate.
“Could you let me think about it first?” she responded. “I know that sounds arrogant to ask you to wait, but small choices can have big consequences.”
“Wise answer,” Grayson replied. “Especially for someone your age.”
“Some of my friends in law school called me an ‘old soul,’” Adisa replied with a smile. “I don’t think they meant it as a compliment.”
“Send over a résumé if you want me to talk to Baxter and Williams. They both remember your time with us as an intern.”
The older lawyer handed Adisa a business card and stood up.
“Thanks so much for talking to me,” Adisa said.
“Sure, and I appreciate the contact at the Georgia Innocence Project. I spoke with the paralegal, and she gave me the names of a couple of lawyers who might be interested in representing Officer Nelson. The most promising lead is with an organization whose sole purpose is to help police officers charged with murder in the line of duty. Deshaun Hamlin is alive, but this group may jump in even if Luke is charged with aggravated assault.”
“Do they only represent white officers?” Adisa asked.
“I don’t know,” Grayson replied, raising his right eyebrow. “But that would smack of a kind of racism I wouldn’t want to introduce into what’s already a tense situation.”
After a high-energy Zumba/kickboxing workout in the den at Aunt Josie’s house, Adisa showered and selected one of Aunt Josie’s potted plants to take to the hospital for a visit. She knew her aunt would prefer one of her own green friends to a strange plant bought at the store. Sitting in her car at a stoplight, Adisa felt a headache coming on and pulled into a drugstore. Walking down the aisle, she encountered a young couple with a toddler girl in the husband’s arms.
“I think she’ll be fine with a generic pain medicine,” the woman said. “She cares more about the flavor than whether it’s a brand name.”
“But I want it to work,” the man replied, glancing up at Adisa as she approached.
“Luke, it will do the job so long as it’s pink,” the woman said.
Adisa, who was standing in front of the adult pain relievers trying to decide whether to go generic or name brand for herself, froze for a second and then cut her eyes toward the couple. The little girl was pulling on her father’s right ear.
“Here,” the mother said, handing the package to her husband. “And grab a syringe to shoot it into her mouth. My old one must have fallen out of the diaper bag when we were at the church nursery on Sunday.”
Everything about the man spoke of law enforcement. Although not very tall, he was muscular and wore his brown hair clipped short in a military style. Adisa glanced down at his brightly shined black shoes. The wife caught Adisa staring at them and quickly reached out for her husband.
“Come on,” the wife said. “Let’s go.”
“But what about the syringe, honey?” the man protested. “Ashley isn’t going to take medicine from a spoon.”
The woman was already walking up the aisle toward the cashier. Adisa saw the type of syringe used to administer liquid medicine to babies and small children. It was hanging on a metal hook beneath the blue bulbs used to clean out children’s noses. She quickly grabbed the syringe and handed it to the man.
“Here,” she said. “This is the kind my sister uses with her kids.”
“Thanks,” the man said appreciatively. “I’m new to the father thing.”
He got up from a crouch. Adisa didn’t move. She watched as he joined his wife. The baby girl in his arms continued to play with the man’s ear. Adisa knew she’d just met Officer Luke Nelson.
SEVENTEEN
ADISA THOUGHT ABOUT her encounter with the white policeman as she adjusted the plant on the windowsill in the hospital room. Nelson might be a family man with a cute little girl, but that shouldn’t influence the justice system. Bad choices hurt good people. The young man lying in a coma on the third floor of the hospital was proof of that.
“Can you see the plant if I put it here?” she asked Aunt Josie.
Her aunt moved her right hand enough to reach the control for the bed and elevated her body.
“That’s great!” Adisa exclaimed as the head of the bed moved closer to vertical. “When did you start doing that?”
“During therapy today,” Aunt Josie replied, her jaw slightly clenched. “The controls have to be really close to my hand.”
Adisa turned the plant so the thicker foliage faced her aunt.
“That’s fine,” Aunt Josie replied. “It’s one of my favorite coleus and will need to be repotted in a couple of months before it gets root-bound.”
Adisa resumed her place in a chair beside the bed. “Show me again how you operate the controls,” she said.
She watched as the older woman slid her right hand to the side, raised her index finger, and placed it on the button that controlled the bed. She lowered it and then raised it. Adisa leaned over and kissed her aunt’s fingers.
“Don’t get carried away,” Aunt Josie said. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“It is to me,” Adisa replied.
They spent the next half hour doing therapy. Adisa was thrilled with the older woman’s progress.
“Mercy,” Aunt Josie finally said. “That’s enough.”
Adisa’s phone vibrated and she glanced at the caller ID. It was Paul Austin from Atlanta.
“Let me run out into the hall and take this,” she said.
Holding the phone to her ear, Adisa walked rapidly from the room.
“Ms. Johnson. I wanted to touch base with you. I discussed your availability with my partners during a firm meeting late this afternoon. Everyone is impressed with your experience at Dixon and White, but we’re not going to make a new hire at this time. The situation may change in six months or so, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait under such uncertain circumstances.”
Adisa swallowed her disappointment. “Was the negative publicity in the AJC about the pro bono work I did in the criminal case a problem?”
“No. That passed out of the public eye by the time the paper landed in the recycle bin the following morning.”
Adisa wasn’t sure if Austin’s opinion made her feel better or worse about her termination at Dixon and White, but it made her like him more. She wasn’t ready to give up on the job quite yet.
“After our conversation the other day, I thought about a company I might be able to cultivate as a client. It’s not a company represented by Dixon and White. They work in the financial management area and broker deals worldwide.”
“How solid is your relationship with this company?”
“At the beginning stages, but the possibility was raised by the company CFO.”
“That could change the situation. Our primary concern is plugging you in at maximum efficiency.”
“Okay. Thanks again for considering me.”
“And I look forward to hearing from you.”
The call ended. Adisa quietly peeked into Aunt Josie’s room. Worn out from therapy, the older woman was asleep. Returning to the conference room where she’d talked with Dr. Dewberry, Adisa said a quick prayer and placed a call to the woman CFO who’d expressed interest in hiring her as their attorney.
Luke held Ashley in his arms while Jane gently inserted the plastic syringe filled with pain reliever into the baby’s mouth.
“You love pink medicine,” Jane said soothingly.
Ashley frowned and turned her head to the side, but Jane kept the syringe in place so that a tiny bit of medicine entered the little girl’s mouth. Ashley’s resistance evaporated. Within five seconds all the pink medicine had made its way from the syringe into Ashley’s mouth. Jane kept the syringe in place so Ashley could lick the tip.
“You weren’t kidding,” Luke said. “She loves that stuff.”
“Better than the name brand. I’d better give her a bath now. She’ll be sleepy as soon as this hits her system.”
&nbs
p; Luke gave Ashley a quick kiss on the top of her blond curls and handed her to Jane. The house phone beside the refrigerator rang and he answered it.
“Luke, this is Theo Grayson.”
Luke stood up slightly straighter. “Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to meet with you again. When can you come to the office?”
“Uh, this afternoon about four o’clock?”
“Perfect. I’ve decided to be with you at the courthouse when the grand jury meets tomorrow.”
Adisa fixed breakfast at Aunt Josie’s house before leaving for the hospital. The previous night she’d combined praying and worrying about her future employment. She tossed and turned until 2:00 a.m. She hadn’t heard back from the woman CFO and wondered if she’d imagined the level of interest the woman had in working with her. Finally, deciding there was no harm in sending a résumé to Theo Grayson, Adisa got out of bed, sent her résumé, and fell asleep.
She was driving to the hospital when her phone vibrated. It was an unknown number.
“Adisa, this is Theo Grayson. I hope I didn’t catch you at an inconvenient time.”
“I’m on my way to the hospital.”
“Thanks for sending your résumé. You were up late last night.”
“Yes.”
Adisa hadn’t considered Grayson’s reaction to an e-mail sent after midnight.
“But I’d guess that happened a lot at Dixon and White,” the older lawyer continued.
“More than I wanted it to.”
“Listen, I don’t want to disrupt your time with your aunt, but do you think you could slip away today for lunch with me?”
Adisa felt her heart jump into her throat. “You’ve discussed my résumé with Mr. Baxter and Mr. Williams?” she asked.
“Yes, and I’m ready to talk and ask you a few questions in person.”
“Will the other partners be joining us?”
“No.”
Adisa waited, but the lawyer didn’t volunteer any additional information.
A Time to Stand Page 17
