A Time to Stand

by Robert Whitlow

“Luke,” Jane cut in. “Be realistic. It’s great that Mr. Grayson says he wants to help, but the other lawyer you talked to about your case is right. Ms. Johnson is going to end up being the one who represents you. That’s the way it works. The older lawyer passes a case down to a younger lawyer, especially for a client who isn’t going to pay his way financially.”

  Luke shifted uneasily. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said.

  “It will.” Jane looked directly at him. “And God help us if Ms. Johnson doesn’t do her job. I had a sense she was reluctant to get involved when we met with her, and now I know why. I bet she’ll try to convince you to accept a plea bargain the first chance she gets.”

  Luke was usually the suspicious, guarded one in the marriage. Seeing Jane in that role was unsettling.

  “Do you think I should follow up with Mr. Fillmore? He really wants to represent me.”

  “I don’t know.” Jane pulled the sheet up beneath her chin and looked at Luke with sad eyes that made his heart ache. “But I wish I could wake up and find out this has all been a horrible nightmare.”

  Adisa came out of her meeting with Mike Williams impressed with the corporate lawyer’s clients and the breadth of legal services he provided. Even in the short time Adisa had practiced in Atlanta, she’d bought into the theory that only attorneys who worked for big firms in the city functioned at the highest levels of competency. Although Mike’s clients weren’t multibillion-dollar companies, they still faced serious challenges, but on a smaller scale.

  “I can’t wait to get started,” Adisa said when he finished describing one project that required the kind of technical forensic accounting she loved.

  Mike, a tall, slender man in his late forties with a head of curly brown hair and blue eyes, chuckled.

  “I never thought I’d hear a lawyer speak those words,” he said. “But it’s music to me. The ability to keep some of that work in the firm instead of farming it out to CPAs is going to be good for revenue and help us keep closer tabs on what’s going on.”

  “That’s my passion,” Adisa replied. “I love any kind of puzzle.”

  “I didn’t see this side of you when you interned that summer in high school,” Mike replied. “You were a serious, earnest young woman, but you were so quiet it was hard to tell what was going on inside your head. You spent all your time grinding away on research projects with your eyes glued to the computer.”

  “I still like working by myself when possible. I can be around people for a while and then I need to get away and recharge.”

  “That’s going to be tough working with Theo. He’s the ultimate people person.”

  “I know.”

  Mike closed the cover of his laptop. “My wife and I leave on our trip in two weeks. Let’s do all we can to iron out the kinks before that happens.”

  “What about the Nelson criminal case?” Adisa began. “How should I allocate my time?”

  “State v. Nelson gets first priority. Just try to be efficient in structuring your workload.”

  “Okay.”

  Grayson was out of the office all morning for a meeting with a client, and Adisa used the time to begin working on the files Mike had given her. The hours flew by, and it was close to noon before she took a break. Leaving the office, she grabbed a Reuben sandwich at a deli. She reached the hospital the same time as the delivery driver for the Campbellton News, who was restocking the container at the front door.

  Tapping her foot nervously, Adisa waited for him to finish and then immediately purchased a paper. She quickly scanned the front page. There was no story about Luke’s case, Mr. Grayson, or her. Apparently, news that the local chicken processing plant was going to be closed longer than usual for a USDA inspection ranked higher than information about the most high-profile criminal case on the superior court docket. She flipped through the paper. At the bottom of the next to last page was a notice without a byline that quoted verbatim the three-sentence press release prepared by Theo Grayson announcing her association with the law firm as cocounsel in the Nelson case. Until now, she’d never considered herself an advocate for press censorship, but she couldn’t help wishing she could instantly become invisible at any mention of Luke’s case.

  Adisa folded the paper and slipped it beneath her arm as she walked to the elevators. She arrived at the same time as a middle-aged black couple she didn’t recognize. The woman glanced over at her and then leaned over to whisper to her husband.

  “Excuse me,” the woman said. “Aren’t you Adisa Johnson?”

  “Yes,” Adisa answered.

  “I thought I recognized you,” the woman said. “Josephine Adams is your aunt, isn’t she?”

  “That’s right. I’m on my way to visit her now.”

  “We’re here to see Deshaun Hamlin, the boy who was shot by the white police officer,” the woman continued. “He goes to my church.”

  The elevator opened, and the three of them entered.

  “How do you know my aunt?” Adisa asked.

  “From the garden club. We’re in it with Thelma Armistead, Deshaun’s grandmother. Anyway, when everyone brought in pictures of their grandchildren, Josie brought in photos of you and your sister. In one of them she was with you when you graduated from law school.”

  Adisa remembered the picture. Wearing a new dress, Aunt Josie beamed with pride as they stood together in front of a massive oak tree.

  “How’s she doing?” the woman continued. “I heard about her stroke, but someone said she’s doing better now.”

  “Yes. We hope she’ll be released to come home soon.”

  “Great. Tell her Sissy Forrest asked about her.”

  “I will.”

  The elevator opened. Adisa pushed the button to keep the door from closing.

  “And keep praying for Deshaun. He’s off the ventilator, which is great news. But the policeman who shot him has hired a big-shot lawyer who will pull every string to get him off the hook. God’s people can’t let that happen.”

  Pressing the newspaper more firmly beneath her arm, Adisa got off the elevator and let the door close behind her.

  Aunt Josie was awake and sitting up in bed when Adisa entered the room.

  “That smells yummy,” Aunt Josie said, eyeing Adisa’s sandwich. “Is that sauerkraut?”

  “Yes, I picked up a Reuben at the deli on Market Street. But I’m sure the sauerkraut isn’t as good as what you make with the cabbage from your garden.”

  “Let me have a little bite anyway,” the older woman said.

  “What about your lunch? It’s past time for them to bring it to you.”

  “It’s come and gone, leaving me half starving.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Adisa said with a smile. “But I’ll be glad to share with you so long as you don’t take too big a bite and choke.”

  Adisa took the sandwich from the bag and carefully cut off several baby-size bites. She handed one to Aunt Josie, who took it in her left hand and put it in her mouth.

  “That’s something that will cause my taste buds to wake up,” Aunt Josie said as she slowly chewed.

  Adisa took a bite and handed another tiny piece to her aunt.

  “I saw a woman named Sissy Forrest in the elevator,” Adisa said. “She told me to tell you hello.”

  “She’s in the garden club. She and her husband moved to Campbellton from Villa Rica a couple of years ago.”

  “She goes to Reggie’s church and said they’ve been praying for you.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Aunt Josie replied. “I had the best visit with Reggie. He left about half an hour ago. I tried to get him to stay, but with your new job I didn’t know when you’d be here.”

  Adisa didn’t say anything. She’d doubted the minister would come by after their blowup in the hospital cafeteria. She handed Aunt Josie another tiny bite of sandwich and cut off two more for later. The satisfaction the older woman was receiving from the food made Adisa want to give her all of it.

/>   “But you can see him on Sunday,” Aunt Josie continued before putting the bite in her mouth.

  “What do you mean?” Adisa asked.

  Aunt Josie shook her head while she chewed. Adisa waited impatiently.

  “Eat,” Aunt Josie said when she finally swallowed the food. “And please hand me something to drink.”

  “I’m not going to Reggie’s church on Sunday,” Adisa said.

  “You have to,” Aunt Josie replied. “He’s getting together a list of women who might be interested in staying with me at the house while you’re at work. He knows a bunch of reliable folks who need to make extra money. I knew we should have gone to him first.”

  “But why do I have to go to his church?” Adisa protested. “He can drop off the list, and we’ll interview them here at the hospital or at home if you’re released before the weekend.”

  “Go to church, child!” Aunt Josie retorted. “And give me another bite of sandwich. That sauerkraut is strong enough that I’d better brush my teeth again before the nurse comes in to check my vitals. Otherwise she’s likely to faint when she catches a whiff of my breath.”

  When she returned to the office, Adisa completed her review of one of Mike Williams’s cases, typed a memo, and sent it to the corporate lawyer. She was deep into her research regarding potential experts in the Nelson case when there was a knock on her door. It was Theo Grayson.

  “Let’s go,” he said rapidly to Adisa. “Judge Andrews wanted us in his chambers with Jasper Baldwin half an hour ago.”

  “In chambers?” Adisa asked, getting up from her chair. “I thought he was going to call and tell us how he was going to rule.”

  “He hasn’t and don’t ask me why he wants to see our faces.”

  Grayson looked flustered. “This has been a tough day,” the older lawyer said. “A judge in Clarke County chopped off my client’s head and handed it on a platter to the other side in a motion hearing, and it’s going to take a trip to the court of appeals to see if I can get it sewn back on. That’s why I’m late.”

  As they walked across the street, Adisa considered trying to tell him about her memo on expert witnesses, but there wasn’t time to explain where she was in the process, and she didn’t want to leave anything out. They walked up the steps and entered the courthouse.

  “Let me do the talking,” Grayson said as they climbed to the second floor. “Unless, of course, the judge asks you a specific question.”

  “I’m counting on you to defend me,” Adisa replied.

  Grayson rewarded her with a wry smile. “A promise is a promise,” he said.

  They reached the judge’s chambers and entered. As soon as the secretary saw them, she picked up the phone and notified Jasper Baldwin that they’d arrived. The DA came in a couple of minutes later. The secretary knocked on the door to the judge’s office and motioned for them to enter.

  Judge Andrews was sitting behind his desk with his robe on a wall hook. “Sit where you like,” he said as soon as the three lawyers entered.

  The DA brought up the rear and shut the door.

  “I’m not happy with the way this case has started,” the judge said. “We all know how volatile these situations are across the country, and now it’s come to Campbellton. That means I don’t want any extraneous activity going on that fuels the fire of public unrest.”

  Adisa wasn’t sure where the judge was heading with his comments.

  “Is that clear?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Baldwin replied. “I’m here to do the job the citizens of Nash County elected me to do.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Grayson replied. “It’s our intention to limit publicity and focus on the case. I’m not seeking notoriety to build a criminal defense practice, and Ms. Johnson is in Campbellton on a temporary basis to help care for a great-aunt who’s suffered a stroke.”

  “Good,” the judge replied and then glanced down at a folder open on his desk. “I’ve considered Mr. Baldwin’s motion to disqualify Ms. Johnson, and while I find the timing of her conduct professionally questionable, it does not warrant removal from the case if the defendant wants to retain her services.”

  “Thank you, Judge,” Grayson replied.

  Adisa glanced at Baldwin, whose face was impassive.

  “Unless either side objects, I’m going to ban cameras from the courtroom at all stages of the proceedings against Officer Nelson,” the judge continued. “Are either of you aware of any requests from the media to be present?”

  “No,” both Grayson and Baldwin replied.

  Adisa suspected that level of statewide interest in the case wouldn’t develop unless Deshaun died. She offered a quick, silent prayer for the young man’s continued improvement.

  “What is the condition of the young man who was shot?” the judge asked.

  Baldwin spoke. “I’ve not had any contact with the family for over a week, but—”

  “He’s still in a coma,” Adisa cut in. “But I understand he’s been taken off the ventilator and is breathing on his own.”

  The judge raised his eyebrows and looked at her in surprise. “What is the basis for your information?” he asked.

  Adisa now regretted speaking up. “As Mr. Grayson mentioned, my great-aunt is in the hospital, so I’ve been spending time there,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “I saw a friend of Deshaun’s family in the elevator earlier today, and she passed along the good news.”

  “Very well,” the judge replied, turning his attention back to Grayson and Baldwin.

  “I’m going to make sure the defendant’s right to a speedy trial takes place,” the judge continued. “If either the State or defense counsel starts dragging out this case, you’ll find me strongly encouraging you to keep moving. If a nudge doesn’t work, I won’t hesitate to resort to other means. How soon can the State comply with the criminal discovery statute?”

  “As soon as the defense files the necessary requests,” Baldwin replied.

  “Good. I’m going to set a morning arraignment for a week from Monday. Mr. Baldwin, are you satisfied with the current level of the defendant’s bond?”

  “Yes, unless there’s a change in circumstances.”

  “Does either side anticipate use of expert witnesses? If so, I want to get that process started.”

  “The treating doctors who will testify about the extent of injury caused by the gunshot wounds,” Baldwin replied.

  “Mr. Grayson?” the judge asked.

  “Not at this—”

  “If Dr. Steiner removes the bullet from Deshaun’s head, we’d like to have it examined by a ballistics expert along with the bullet that passed through the young man’s body,” Adisa said.

  “Right,” Grayson said, correcting himself.

  “And it will also be necessary for the defense to call an expert to testify as to proper police conduct under similar circumstances,” Adisa added.

  “We’ll address that issue, too,” Baldwin responded.

  “There may be the need for a reconstruction expert to evaluate the scene and testify about setting and conditions the night of the shooting,” Adisa said. “Things look different at night than they do during the day.”

  The judge leaned forward slightly. “Ms. Johnson, there’s no need for a witness to testify that the sun sets in the west and it gets dark soon thereafter. Did you hear what I said earlier about not engaging in obstructionist behavior to delay this case moving forward?”

  “Yes, Your Honor, but you asked about experts, and I thought it would be my obligation—”

  “For you and Mr. Grayson to get on the same page,” the judge interrupted. “I realize we’re early in the proceeding, but for the reasons I stated earlier, I expect this case to receive top priority by the State and the defense. Give me a status report on experts after the arraignment on Monday.”

  As soon as Adisa and Grayson exited the courthouse, the older lawyer turned to her.

  “It would have helped if you’d given me a heads-up ab
out the outside witnesses you want to testify in the case,” he said.

  “It’s in a memo I was working on while you were in Clarke County but couldn’t give you because we had to rush over here.”

  “I’d like to read it before I leave the office today.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll finish it as soon as I’m at my desk.”

  They waited for a traffic light to change and crossed the street.

  “And who’s going to pay for these witnesses?” Grayson asked as soon as they were on the other side of the roadway. “Hired guns to talk in court are expensive.”

  “Maybe Luke can come up with the money for that part of the case since we’re only charging him one dollar to represent him.”

  “If he’s not willing to foot the bill for outside help, then we’ll do without it,” Grayson replied.

  Adisa didn’t say anything else during the rest of the short walk to the office. Grayson didn’t need any more prodding or poking from her. Everyone was entitled to be grumpy from time to time.

  Luke and Jane loaded Ashley and the food for their picnic into the car.

  “Maybe we should drive to Mexico and continue to a Central or South American country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the US,” Luke suggested.

  “I’d prefer Badin Lake,” Jane replied with a weak smile.

  Knowing his attempt at dark humor had fallen flat, Luke was silent during the first part of the thirty-mile trip to the state park. Because it was a weekday, the picnic area beside the small lake was deserted. Jane threw a white sheet over a concrete table, and Luke put Ashley’s high chair at the end where the little girl could see the water.

  “Leave everything in the cooler for a few minutes,” Luke said to Jane.

  “It’s past time for Ashley to eat, and your stomach is like a clock that goes off at noon,” Jane responded.

  “I know, but let’s walk around the lake first. I’ll push Ashley in her stroller. She’ll be distracted by the new sights, and both of us will forget about our stomachs.”

  Jane put a floppy hat on Ashley’s head to protect her from the sun. The path around the lake was flat and covered in tiny pea gravel.