“I am here,” Will countered, “to remind the court—with all due respect—that I have a privilege of confidentiality in my conversations and contacts with my client. That is a sacred trust, and I am not about to breach it. This court has ordered me to breach it—but that I cannot, and will not, do. I am also here to remind the court that the Constitution gives my client a Fourteenth Amendment right of due process, and a Sixth Amendment right to the assistance of her legal counsel, both of which are endangered if this court orders me to do what I cannot do.
“Now if I do know something about my client’s whereabouts, I am here to tell this court that I have no liberty nor permission from my client to divulge it. On the other hand, if I do not possess information about my client’s whereabouts, then this court would have me do the impossible—and suffer potential imprisonment when I have failed to carry out that impossible task.”
“Where is Mary Sue Fellows? Where is Joshua Fellows?” Judge Mason bellowed, his face no longer displaying a warm and pleasant smile but purpling in anger.
“To repeat myself,” Will continued calmly, “I cannot answer that question, Your Honor.”
Harry Putnam jumped to his feet.
“Your Honor,” Putnam said, “I take no position on what the court should do with Mr. Chambers at this point. I would point out, however, that guardian ad litem Bender may have some information for the court.”
“Oh yes, Your Honor.” Bender rose slowly with a confident smile on her face. “I have some important evidence that I want to present right now. May I call a witness so that we can make a record for the court?”
Judge Mason was still staring at Will. He diverted his eyes only momentarily in the direction of Bender, giving her a quick nod of approval.
Bender waved in the direction of Stanley Kennelworth, who nervously rose and inched his way along the side of the courtroom and up to the witness stand. She began examining him.
“You are Joseph Fellows’ attorney?”
“Yes,” Kennelworth answered in a low, quiet voice.
“You have talked to your client on numerous occasions regarding his case—as well as the case involving his wife, Mary Sue Fellows?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And yesterday, did you invite me to meet with your client, Joe Fellows, to talk about Mary Sue’s case?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct. You, and me, and my client Joe Fellows met in the jail, and we had a talk.”
“And in that discussion, the three of us—we talked about Mary Fellows’ case, and how much Will Chambers might know about where his client is?”
“Right. We talked about that. Sure.”
“And Joe Fellows told you and me—”
“Hearsay!” Will exclaimed, jumping to his feet. But before Judge Mason could rule, Bender pushed on.
“And what did Joe Fellows say?”
“He said his mother had told him that Will Chambers knew the area code that Mary Sue was calling from.”
“Double hearsay!” Will added, his eyes riveted on the judge, waiting futilely for him to make a ruling.
“And where did Joe Fellows’ mother hear about Will Chambers knowing the area code?”
“She supposedly learned it from a recent conversation with Mary Sue Fellows.”
“Triple hearsay!” Will exclaimed. He stretched his arms out in front of the judge, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Are you asking for a ruling, Mr. Chambers?” the judge asked.
“I certainly am, Your Honor,” Will said firmly. “We have three layers of hearsay—and I don’t hear anyone arguing one of the exceptions to the hearsay rule.”
“How about this,” the judge said. “Maybe this is not being offered to prove the actual truth of the hearsay statements. Maybe guardian ad litem Bender is trying only to set the stage to prove one of the exceptions—like intent, or state of mind. Isn’t that right, Ms. Bender?”
“Oh, that’s true,” Bender chimed in. “That’s exactly why I’m asking the questions.”
“Whose intent? Whose state of mind? How is any of this relevant?” Will demanded.
“It’s your intent—your state of mind, Mr. Chambers,” the judge replied, his jaw clenching slightly. “You’re an inch-and-a-half from the county jail. I’m trying to find out whether you are being contemptuous of my order or not. So your objection is overruled. Anything else, Ms. Bender?”
Harriet Bender smiled and shrugged happily. “Nothing else, Your Honor.”
Stanley Kennelworth started to rise from the witness chair, but Will stopped him in his tracks.
“You can remain seated, Mr. Kennelworth,” Will said. “I have a few questions for you.”
Kennelworth sat down, but quickly shifted in his seat as if someone had placed tacks on it.
“Mr. Kennelworth, do you still represent Joe Fellows?”
“Yeah. I still represent him.”
“Do you acknowledge your ethical duty to defend your client zealously?”
“Sure. I know all that.”
“I look around this courtroom, Mr. Kennelworth, and I don’t see Joe Fellows anywhere. Is he still down in the county jail at this very moment?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s still down there.”
“Whose idea was it—yours?—to invite guardian ad litem Bender down to talk with your client?”
“I can’t remember.”
“But you know that if the conversation had been just between you and Joe Fellows that it would have been protected by attorney–client privilege? You wouldn’t have been able to disclose it because it then would have been confidential?”
“I suppose so. I knew that.”
“So, knowing that, you brought Ms. Bender into the conference so that you could deliberately break the attorney–client privilege by bringing an outsider into the conversation—thus waiving the confidentiality of your client and allowing you to testify in court today that I knew something about Mary Sue Fellows’ whereabouts?”
Bender and Putnam both simultaneously jumped to their feet, shouting out objections made indistinguishable by the confusion.
“Out of bounds,” the judge said loudly. “Mr. Chambers, you’re way out of bounds.”
“Your Honor, I think we need an answer to my question. My client deserves an answer to this question. The integrity of this court requires an answer to the question.”
“I’ll be the judge of what this court needs!” Judge Mason roared. “You’re overruled!”
Will whirled back to face Kennelworth and kept slugging.
“Are you concerned at all about being sued for legal malpractice for what you’ve done in court today?”
“Objection!” Putnam and Bender both howled, jumping to their feet.
“Sustained!” the judge barked.
Will’s natural impulse was to keep slashing. Keep pushing ahead. Keep punching and grabbing until he could squeeze the truth out of Stanley Kennelworth. But that was when he stopped. He knew he had to resist that visceral instinct. All of his years in trial—all the questioning of all those witnesses in all of those courtroom battles—had taught him to resist what his natural bent would otherwise cause him to do. He slowed down. He took a few breaths. And he calmly addressed the attorney in the witness chair.
“By the way, I noticed your new Jaguar as I drove up to court. Beautiful automobile,” Will said with a smile.
Kennelworth brightened up and leaned back slightly in his chair. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it, Mr. Chambers.”
“Is anyone paying for your time in testifying today?”
Putnam and Banes both jumped up and objected.
Before the judge could snap out a ruling Will decided to remind him of the playing field.
“Your Honor,” Will said calmly, “I think it’s important for me to establish a very good record so that when this case goes up on appeal the reviewing court will have an adequate foundation on which to evaluate your ruling.”
Judge Mason leaned back in
his chair, drumming his fingers on the bench. “Answer that question. And only that question. Are you being paid to testify today?”
“No, absolutely not,” Kennelworth answered.
Will stepped back in. “Your new Jaguar—was that purchased as part of your fees for this case?”
Kennelworth jerked his head back slightly and opened his mouth, but paused before letting any words escape.
“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand the question.”
“I think you do. Was that new Jaguar purchased as part of any of the fees paid to you in connection with this case?”
Kennelworth paused again. And then he answered. “What that car represents—that was a business deal. So it really has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Did you receive that new Jaguar from Continental Motors in Delphi?”
“That’s right. That’s exactly where I got it.”
“And was it a gift to you from someone—someone who has an interest in this case—perhaps someone who has an interest in what you would say about the Mary Sue Fellows matter?”
“Like I said, it was a business deal. I was given that car—it was in lieu of my fees on something. That’s all. Nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.”
“Give me the name of the client, Mr. Kennelworth,” Will asked, his eyes riveted on those of the other lawyer, whose glance now darted away from Will’s. But the judge intervened to ease Kennelworth’s obvious testimonial torment.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Judge Mason said. “It’s simply not relevant here, Mr. Chambers. Now I assume you are finished with this witness, is that correct?”
“Given the limitations on my ability to examine this witness, I don’t believe I can ask any other question that this court will not overrule.”
The judge quickly dismissed Kennelworth from the stand and then whirled back toward Will Chambers.
“Which brings us to the business at hand. What’s it going to be, Mr. Chambers? My way or the highway?”
“I think there’s a third alternative,” Will said. “The third alternative is justice. Applying the law according to established legal principles.”
Judge Mason turned to Harry Putnam.
“Mr. Prosecutor, what’s your position on all of this?”
Putnam rose to his feet. The look on his face was now missing the typical Harry Putnam arrogance. His brow was a little wrinkled, and he looked a little perplexed.
“Your Honor, I want the court’s order enforced. I want Mary Sue Fellows back in this jurisdiction so we can hear her side of the story. And I want Joshua Fellows back in this jurisdiction so we can place him in a foster home to ensure his safety.
“Now, this court entered an order prohibiting Joe Fellows from being released on bail until he told this court the whereabouts of his wife. But he’s still sitting in jail, and that hasn’t worked. I’m not sure whether placing Mr. Chambers in jail for contempt is going to bring Mary Sue Fellows and her son back into this jurisdiction. I just don’t know. As a result, I’m not taking any position on what punishment this court should mete out against the defense counsel.”
The judge stared at Putnam for a second as if he were going to engage him and then decided against it. He turned his glance toward Harriet Bender, and simply nodded. Bender rose quickly.
“Judge, I think Mr. Chambers is in willful disobedience to the court’s order. He has no excuses. He comes down here from the Commonwealth of Virginia and disregards the honor of this Georgia courtroom. Furthermore, he has willfully conspired with his client to impede my ability to represent my client—Joshua Fellows. I have not had a chance to have access to Joshua Fellows, my client, because of Mr. Chambers’ arrogant refusal to obey this court’s order. Nothing less than commitment to our county jail is appropriate. I am afraid there is no other alternative for you, Your Honor—you need to send Mr. Chambers to the county jail immediately.”
Judge Mason turned his eyes toward Will, who was seated at the counsel table with his handed folded in front of him, a stern look of unflagging resolve on his face.
“Mr. Chambers, do you have anything else you want to tell me?”
Will responded quietly but firmly. “Your Honor, I am an attorney who’s taken an oath to zealously represent my client within the bounds of the law, including my duty to preserve attorney–client confidences. I have two things to tell this court. First, Your Honor, I do have information about the area code from which my client was calling me. Second of all, I shall not now, nor shall I ever, divulge that information to this court unless instructed to do so by my client or by the Georgia State Supreme Court. To do so would be to violate my sacred trust with my client and to violate my responsibility as an attorney.”
Judge Mason leaned forward. His head was tilted slightly, as if he were straining to hear the horn of some approaching freight train still off in the distance.
The courtroom was silent, with one exception only—a creaking sound that was coming from the chair of the court clerk. Her upper torso and head were at rigid attention, her eyes riveted on Will, but she was shifting slightly in her chair in anticipation.
“Mr. Chambers, please rise,” the judge intoned.
Will rose to his feet.
The creaking sound stopped.
“Mr. Chambers, do you know what I am going to do now?” the judge asked.
“Whatever it is,” Will said quietly, “I’m prepared to hear it.”
“By the authority vested in me by the State of Georgia, and pursuant to the laws of this state, I hereby confine you to an indefinite term of imprisonment in the Juda County jail. You shall remain there in the custody of Juda County until such time as you purge yourself from the contempt of court that you have willfully and flagrantly committed. You can purge yourself from this contempt and end your imprisonment by simply giving the word to the jailer that you wish to be brought back to this courtroom and divulge to me everything you know about the whereabouts of Mary Sue Fellows and her son, Joshua. Until that time, you are an inmate of our local jail. Bailiff, take Mr. Chambers away.”
The armed bailiff quickly stepped over to Will’s position at the counsel table. As he did, Will rapped out quickly, “Your Honor, I’m asking this court to stay the execution of its order for a sufficient time for me to file an immediate appeal.”
“Motion denied!” the judge responded.
The bailiff took Will by the arm and began leading him from the courtroom.
Will turned to the judge one last time. “Your Honor, I move that this court recuse itself from any further proceedings in the Mary Sue Fellows case on the grounds of manifest bias and prejudice in its conduct of this hearing.”
“Mister, that motion is denied!” the judge exclaimed, now rising to his feet with both hands on the bench, his face flushed with anger.
As the bailiff led Will to the side of the courtroom Crystal Banes reached over the audience railing and thrust the microphone of a small tape recorder in Will’s direction, yelling one final question to him.
“Mr. Chambers, what’s your next move?”
The bailiff was opening the side door to the jail corridor that lay on the other side, his hand tightly on Will’s arm, and Will had time for only one last comment as he disappeared through the doorway.
“I guess I’ll catch up on my Bible reading.”
Then the door that led from the courtroom to the Juda County jail closed with a bone-jarring bang.
Banes turned to Spike, her cameraman, who was standing next to her in the front row of the courtroom.
“Bible reading, I’m sure!” she said with a sneer.
But Spike was not smiling. His lips were pursed and his brow was furrowed as he stared at the door that had just slammed shut.
23
AS WILL SAT ON THE METAL COT, his back against the wall, he found it difficult to believe he was an inmate in jail. He had his pocket New Testament in his hand and had been trying to do some reading, but he couldn’t foc
us. He was distracted by the constant stream of profanities being yelled by inmates, the din echoing down the gray corridor.
Will had no idea how long Judge Mason was going to hold him. For that reason, he knew he had to be mentally prepared for the long haul.
Somehow, he had thought that, as a lawyer, his confinement might be different. There he was wrong. Whether permitted by the judge or required by jail regulations, he was treated no differently than any other inmate.
He had been taken to a holding cell, where a uniformed officer introduced only as guard Thompson stood ready with an impassive expression and surgical gloves on his hands. He was told to strip and leave his clothes in a pile on the floor. After that, he was submitted to a humiliating physical search. He was allowed to keep his New Testament, but he was not allowed to keep the toothpaste or toothbrush that he’d put in the pockets of his suit coat. He was also refused an immediate phone call.
“I am a lawyer, guard Thompson,” Will said. “I don’t want to hassle you—but I’ve got a right to a phone call and I need to make that phone call right now.”
The guard did not change expression. He had heard similar requests from nearly every inmate who had been checked into the holding cell before being assigned to a bunk. His answer was always the same.
“You will get your required phone call when it is convenient for us—and after you have been processed and checked into your cell. Not before.”
Will was issued an orange jumpsuit with the words “Juda County Jail” stenciled on the back. He was also issued a pair of paper shoes with stretched-out elastic at the ankles, which were barely capable of remaining on his feet.
Will found a blessing in the fact that the jumpsuit was soft and comfortable to wear. Yet he knew that was only because it had been worn by countless other inmates before him. He tried to keep that thought out of his mind.
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