“What is it about death row that makes people so damned cranky?”
Willie looks at me for a moment, then starts to laugh. The weird thing is I knew he would. I know and like Willie, plus I think he's as innocent as the rest of my clients.
“Man, you're a lunatic, you know that? Of course, if I had me a lawyer, instead of a lunatic, I wouldn't be here.”
This has become a familiar refrain, and I respond in kind. “Need I remind you that I was not your lawyer when you were sent here? I have merely been handling your appeal. A small but significant point.”
Willie looks around at the cell. “You don't seem to be appealing too well,” is his logical reply.
“That's because the Supreme Court has become a major pain in the ass in this area.”
“More white bullshit,” he says.
“Did you ever hear of Clarence Thomas?” I counter.
“No, who's he play for?”
I laugh so loudly that it rattles through the corridors. Willie knows damn well who Clarence Thomas is, he's been reading up on everything about his case, including who might someday be ruling on it.
As if satisfied that he got me laughing, he gets right to the point. It's a point we've gone over before.
“We gonna get the new trial?”
“The Court of Appeals ruling should come down at any time.”
“We gonna win?”
“I think so,” I say. “But even if we get it, we're still in deep shit.”
“I'll just lose again?” he asks.
I pretend to be puzzled. “Lose? Did somebody say ‘lose'? I know I've heard that word, I'm just not familiar with it.”
“Make sure it stays that way.”
The specifics of Willie's case really haven't come up between us, since all I've had to concern myself with is the technical aspect of the appeal. We're pursuing a number of arguments, but our best one is the fact that one of the jurors on Willie's case openly lied in concealing the fact that her brother was a cop. More significantly, that brother had been killed in the line of duty six months earlier. That does not tend to make one friendly to the accused.
But if we get a new trial, we're going to have to move quickly. I decide to put my toe in the water, mainly because there's not much else to talk about. “You know, you're going to have to help me more than you helped your last lawyer.”
His antennae are up. “What the hell does that mean? I got nothing more to tell you than I told him.”
“That's because I haven't started my subtle, probing questioning yet.”
“Why don't you just ask your father? He was damn sure he knew everything that happened that night.”
It is not exactly unprecedented for a death row inmate to hold a grudge against the prosecutor that put him there, and Willie has been open about his hatred for my father. Because of those feelings, it took longer than usual for Willie and me to establish a mutual trust.
He obviously has not heard about recent events, and I see no reason to conceal them. “My father died last week.”
Willie's face reflects his feelings, or lack of feelings, at hearing this news. No guilt, no triumph, no nothing. “I'm sorry for you, man,” is what he says.
I nod my thanks. “Are you ready?”
“Ready.”
“Okay,” I say. “Let's start with an easy one. Did you kill her?”
I almost never ask this question, since if the client says yes, I am then prohibited from allowing him to say no at trial. It's called suborning perjury. The reason I ask is because I know what his answer is going to be. That doesn't make it any easier to hear.
“I don't have the slightest fucking idea.”
It goes downhill from there. Willie was totally drunk that night, with no memory of anything that happened. But he had never committed a violent act in his life, except for a few street fights. He wouldn't, couldn't, murder a woman.
We don't get very far, which right now is not a big problem, since we don't even know if we'll ever get another trial. The only fact that the conversation reaffirms in my mind is that Willie is never going to testify in any trial in which I am his lawyer. The “I was too drunk to remember if I did it” defense isn't generally a winner.
After twenty more minutes of getting nowhere, I head home, where I find Nicole preparing dinner. This is in itself a