A Time to Stand

by Robert Whitlow

  “This courthouse is completely unprotected,” she observed.

  “They only operate the metal detectors on days the judges are sitting on the bench,” Grayson replied.

  They reached Judge Andrews’s chambers and the first level of security. The door to the area where the judge worked was locked. Grayson pressed a button for an intercom. A woman’s voice answered and Grayson responded.

  “Theo Grayson, Luke Nelson, and Adisa Johnson, a new lawyer with our firm, here to see the judge.”

  The door buzzed, and Grayson held it open for the others to enter a small waiting area with only two chairs. Sitting in one of them was Jasper Baldwin, the district attorney. He stood to shake Theo Grayson’s hand and gave Adisa a puzzled look.

  “Ms. Johnson,” the DA said. “What brings you here?”

  “She’s graciously accepted a job offer with our firm,” Grayson cut in. “And she will be cocounsel with me in Officer Nelson’s case.”

  “What?!” Baldwin exploded. “So all the talk about coming to work with my office so you could prosecute Officer Nelson was a sham. I’m going to let the judge know about this conduct and request that you be held in contempt of court!”

  The judge’s secretary, who was watching the conversation with wide eyes, picked up the phone, which had buzzed.

  “He’ll see you now,” she said.

  Baldwin shot past them into the judge’s chambers. Grayson followed. Luke touched Adisa on the arm and held her back.

  “What’s he talking about?”

  “I’ll explain it later,” Adisa said in a hushed voice. “But Mr. Grayson and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  The judge’s office was modestly furnished with a scratched-up wooden desk facing six chairs. A long wooden bookcase filled with old books covered one wall. The judge, a trim, athletic man in his fifties with sandy hair mixed with gray, was sitting behind his desk.

  “Your Honor,” Baldwin said, his voice still filled with emotion. “Before we go any further, I need to report to the Court a serious breach of professionalism and ethics by Mr. Grayson and Ms. Johnson.”

  “And who is Ms. Johnson?” the judge asked.

  Grayson introduced Adisa to the judge, who shook her hand and motioned for everyone to sit down. Grayson positioned himself next to Baldwin, with Adisa to his right and Luke next to her.

  “Do you need a court reporter to transcribe this?” the judge asked.

  “Yes,” Baldwin immediately responded.

  “Fine with me,” Grayson replied.

  “Meet me in the main courtroom in five minutes,” the judge said. “Ms. Dixon will need time to set up her machine.”

  The judge grabbed his robe as the lawyers and Luke left his chambers.

  “I can’t believe you’d pull a stunt like this,” Baldwin said to Grayson as soon as they were back in the reception area.

  “We’ll see you in the courtroom,” Grayson replied evenly.

  “What’s he talking about?” Luke asked again as the DA stormed off.

  Grayson began to speak, but Adisa jumped in first. “When you met me the other day, I was talking to the DA about coming to work for his office. We discussed a job that would have included prosecuting you, but I decided I should work with Mr. Grayson and help you for the reasons I told you yesterday. Mr. Baldwin and I didn’t discuss the facts of your case, so I don’t believe I broke any ethical rules.”

  “How can I trust someone who wanted to prosecute me?” Luke asked. “If Jane and I had known that—”

  “Adisa made her choice, and I’m satisfied with how she went about it,” Grayson said. “It will be up to us to prove that to you and your wife.”

  Luke didn’t respond.

  “We can’t talk about this right now,” Grayson said. “We need to get to the courtroom.”

  The main courtroom in the Nash County Courthouse had a 1950s look with high ceilings covered in soundproof tiles, plain white walls, and rows of long, utilitarian brown benches. It was a room designed not for aesthetics or to create an atmosphere of judicial solemnity but to accommodate a large crowd of people on jury selection and criminal arraignment days. When empty it seemed especially sterile.

  Judge Andrews wasn’t on the bench, but the court reporter was setting up. Jasper Baldwin was seated at the table used by the prosecution in criminal cases. Adisa hadn’t been in the courtroom since she interned for Theo Grayson. The space that once seemed majestic and overwhelming to a high schooler now looked pedestrian and dull. The judge, wearing his black robe, took his place on the bench. Baldwin immediately rose to his feet.

  “Call State v. Nelson,” the judge said without any preamble. “Mr. Baldwin, I understand there’s a matter you want to bring up with the Court.”

  “Yes, sir. The day the grand jury issued its indictment charging Officer Nelson with aggravated assault in the shooting of Deshaun Hamlin, Ms. Adisa Johnson spoke privately with me and asked me to consider hiring her to serve as special prosecutor in the case. The next day, she called and left a voice message informing me that she’d decided not to pursue the job. At no time did she notify me that she was, in fact, going to join Mr. Grayson’s firm and become cocounsel for the defendant. Her deceptive efforts to obtain inside information from me about this case and the charges against Officer Nelson should disqualify her from representation. I therefore move the Court to issue an order removing her from the case and imposing any additional sanctions you deem warranted. I will also be filing a formal complaint against Ms. Johnson with the state bar association.”

  While Baldwin spoke, Adisa shifted and fidgeted in her chair like a third grader counting down the seconds until recess. As soon as Baldwin sat down, she prepared to stand up and defend herself but felt a surprisingly strong grip on her left arm from Grayson, who kept her in her seat.

  “I’ll speak to this issue, Your Honor,” the older lawyer said, rising to his feet.

  Adisa bit her lip to keep from talking.

  “Even if everything Mr. Baldwin says is true, it doesn’t support removal of Ms. Johnson,” Grayson said. “The DA didn’t talk about the merits of the case with her. Their conversation focused on the possibility of a job for her as special prosecutor. If Your Honor wants to receive testimony on any aspect of the discussion, Ms. Johnson is present and willing to answer any and all questions from you or Mr. Baldwin.”

  Adisa quickly started to mentally run through every detail she could remember from her time in Baldwin’s office.

  “Mr. Baldwin,” the judge said, “will you state in your place that everything you’ve represented to the Court is true and correct to the best of your knowledge and belief?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” the DA replied.

  “Very well. There’s no need for testimony from Ms. Johnson. I’ll take the motion under advisement and notify the parties of my decision by five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. This hearing is adjourned.”

  The judge left the courtroom. As soon as he was gone, the DA turned to Adisa, Grayson, and Luke.

  “That may be the way you’ve learned to practice law in Atlanta,” he said to Adisa, “but that’s not the way it’s done in Nash County.”

  The DA stormed out of the courtroom. Luke looked at Grayson and Adisa and asked a question Adisa didn’t anticipate.

  “Why did we come here to see the judge in the first place?” he asked.

  “He wanted to discuss scheduling your arraignment, timing for discovery, whether to allow cameras in the courtroom, and how long it would be before the case might be ready for trial,” Grayson answered. “But one thing about being a trial lawyer is that the unexpected always happens.”

  “And I didn’t count on being represented by an attorney who was looking for a job to prosecute me,” Luke said to Adisa.

  “That’s why I went into such detail about it with you and your wife the other day,” Adisa replied patiently. “But if after hearing the DA’s allegations you don’t want me involved, I’ll understand.”


  “Why don’t we wait on discussing that until Judge Andrews rules on the DA’s motion to disqualify Adisa,” Grayson interjected.

  “If he grants it, I won’t hold you to the job offer with your firm,” Adisa said to Grayson.

  “Understood,” the older lawyer replied.

  Luke held back and let Grayson and Adisa leave the courtroom ahead of him. The behind-the-scenes chaos with the lawyers had seriously shaken his confidence. Adisa was unknown to him, but he’d not questioned Mr. Grayson’s judgment. Until now. Grayson and Adisa had their heads together as they walked down the hallway outside the courtroom. Luke stepped closer.

  “Remember,” Grayson was saying to Adisa, “I told you I was going to defend your involvement in the case. I just didn’t think the attack would be from this angle.”

  “And is this going to take time away from working on my case?” Luke asked as they reached the top of the stairs.

  “This is a minor hiccup,” Grayson replied. “The judge will deny the motion.”

  They exited the courthouse with Grayson and Adisa still talking about what had just happened.

  “I’ll let you go ahead,” Luke said to the two lawyers. “I have an errand to run downtown.”

  “Sure,” Grayson replied, briefly turning away from Adisa. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Luke walked directly to the law offices of Fillmore and Dudley. He entered an empty reception area. A middle-aged woman behind a desk was filing her nails but quickly sat up straighter when he approached.

  “I don’t have an appointment,” Luke began. “But I’d like to either talk to Mr. Fillmore or leave a message for him to call me.”

  “Your name, please?” the woman asked.

  “Luke Nelson. I’m a police officer—”

  “Oh, I know who you are. Let me inform Mr. Fillmore that you’re here.”

  Luke left an hour later. Sam Fillmore was a chubby lawyer with a baby face. Luke had seen him many times in court handling criminal cases and decided it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. When Luke told him what had just happened in court, Fillmore got so excited he knocked over a cup of coffee, spattering Luke’s khaki pants.

  “Good thing they’re already brown,” Fillmore quipped as he buzzed his assistant and told her to bring in a paper towel. “I hate to talk negatively about a brother at the bar, but it sounds like Theo Grayson is trying to dump your case into the lap of a rookie lawyer who barely knows her way to the courthouse.”

  “How many felony cases have you tried to a verdict?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, I lost track of that a long time ago.”

  “What about since I joined the police force about a year and a half ago?”

  Fillmore paused. “It’s been a slow spell, except for a ton of DUIs, but that just means I can’t wait to scratch the courtroom itch and sink my teeth into a case that has meat on the bone.”

  Luke wasn’t sure he wanted Fillmore to either scratch or gnaw at his expense. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I appreciate you seeing me without an appointment.”

  “It was perfect timing,” the lawyer replied. “Make the switch soon. The longer you let Theo and his new associate mess up your case, the harder it will be to build a solid defense. And I’m not intimidated by negative public opinion. If a lawyer is a fighter, even the people he beats up respect him and hire him when they get the chance.”

  “How much would you charge?”

  “It depends. What is Mr. Grayson charging you?”

  Luke hesitated. It didn’t feel right to reveal the nominal fee.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Fillmore continued. “Representing you is better than a year’s worth of Internet advertising. Theo wants to build up business for this young black lawyer and doesn’t mind using you to do it.”

  “Let me think about it,” Luke replied.

  “Are you going to talk to any other lawyers?”

  “I was considering Fred Bentley. I know he’s at the courthouse a lot and seems to have almost as many cases on the docket as the public defender’s office.”

  Fillmore shook his head. “Don’t get sucked into the hype that Freddie will dump on you. He’s made so many people mad at the DA’s office they won’t agree to a recess so he can go to the bathroom.”

  “I thought being a fighter was good.”

  “You have to fight smart,” Fillmore said as he tapped the side of his head. “And make every blow count. I’ll pile the motions up to the ceiling in the DA’s office without letting them know which ones are for real.”

  “Doesn’t that make the judges mad?”

  “They get over it,” Fillmore replied with a wave of his hand. “But it will make Jasper Baldwin and his lazy assistants work, which is the one thing they hate more than anything else. When they see my name on the pleadings in your case, they’ll be on the phone trying to work something out.”

  “I’m not interested in a plea bargain,” Luke replied.

  “Of course. That’s just an illustration.”

  Luke left, partly impressed but significantly unsettled.

  He arrived at the house in time to watch Jane spoon the final bite of supper into Ashley’s mouth.

  “Well?” Jane asked hopefully. “How did it go? You were gone a long time.”

  “I felt like I was in a pinball machine getting knocked all over the place.”

  Aunt Josie finished brushing her own teeth right before Dr. Dewberry entered the room and briskly approached the bed.

  “Ms. Adams, I’m putting your picture on the wall of my office,” he announced.

  “I know I’m good-looking,” Aunt Josie said with a smile, “but I’ve lost some of my luster since I’ve been in here.”

  Dr. Dewberry patted the older woman on the arm and looked at Adisa. “Your aunt is exceeding every goal in therapy, and while it’s great that she’s improving, it forces us to discuss where she needs to go from here. I can’t justify ongoing hospitalization.”

  Adisa told him about accepting the job with Grayson, Baxter, and Williams.

  “If Adisa is going to be living in Campbellton, does that mean I can go home?” Aunt Josie asked the doctor hopefully.

  “Only if you can make arrangements for someone to be with you during the day while Adisa is at work. Would you be spending the night at your aunt’s house?” he asked Adisa.

  “If she’ll have me.”

  “Hush, child. That house and everything I have is yours.”

  “Theo Grayson understands my personal situation with Aunt Josie and is going to work with me,” Adisa said. “I’m going to fill in for Mike Williams while he’s out of the office for a couple of months and back up Mr. Grayson in a big criminal case he’s taking on. I’m going to make arrangements in the next few days to empty my apartment in Atlanta and move everything into a storage unit in Campbellton.”

  The doctor’s eyes went from Aunt Josie to Adisa and back to his patient. “Ms. Adams, I’d prefer sending you to a skilled nursing facility for several weeks, but we can give this a try if that’s what you want to do,” he said.

  “Yes!” Aunt Josie said as strongly as her voice allowed. “And I’ll work so hard to get better that I’ll prove you made the right decision.”

  “Okay, I’ll write orders for regular visits by skilled care providers to assess your status. It won’t be safe for you to be alone in a house for more than an hour or so, at least in the beginning.”

  After the doctor left, Adisa took her tablet from her purse and opened it to a blank screen. “We have our own business to tend to—finding a caretaker who can stay with you during the day. Shanika already crossed Mary Broome off the list.”

  “Mary is a friend, but I agree with Shanika,” Aunt Josie said. “I’d like to hire someone from my church, but there aren’t many young people in the congregation or folks looking for a job. Why don’t we ask Reggie if he knows someone who would be interested in helping out?”

  “No,” Adisa said. “I’m not sure Reggie’s a
good referral source.”

  “Why not?”

  Adisa didn’t want to go into an explanation of why she and the young preacher had a falling-out. She scrambled to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t upset Aunt Josie yet would stay within the boundaries of the truth.

  “He hasn’t lived here that long. Let me check with Horace Bramblett at the AME Church.”

  “Most of his members are older than I am!” Aunt Josie answered.

  “Then I’ll go to someone else.”

  “I still think Reggie should be at the top of the list,” Aunt Josie grumbled. “And if you don’t ask him, I will the next time he comes to visit.”

  Adisa successfully avoided the topic of Reggie Reynolds for the rest of the evening. But she knew eventually she’d have to tell Aunt Josie what happened.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  WHEN LUKE WOKE up in the morning, Jane’s spot in the bed was empty. He peeked into Ashley’s room. The little girl was asleep in her crib with her favorite blanket tucked beneath her chin.

  “I’m in here,” Jane called out softly when he stepped back into the hallway.

  Luke went into the rarely used living room. Jane, her pillow under her head, was lying on her back on a secondhand sofa given to them by her mother. A cream-colored sheet covered her legs and feet.

  “How long have you been here?” Luke asked. “Did I snore?”

  “Not since pollen season ended,” Jane replied. “But I couldn’t sleep after our talk about what happened at the courthouse and didn’t want to wake you by thrashing around in bed.”

  Before the shooting, Luke had been a sound sleeper. Even fatherhood hadn’t sensitized him to Ashley’s whimpers. He sat at the end of the couch and briefly massaged Jane’s right foot, waiting until she made eye contact with him.

  “Our lives are totally out of our control right now,” Jane continued. “And I don’t know who to trust.”

  “Mr. Grayson assured me that he is going to be in charge—”