She had a quick, cocky Northeast accent, but tempered with some time in the South.
"Is it Rork or Row Ark?"
"R-o-a-r-k. That's Rork in Boston, and Row Ark in Mississippi."
"Mind if I call you Ellen?"
"Please do, with two syllables. Can I call you Jake?"
"Yes, please."
"Good, I hadn't planned to call you Mister."
"Boston, huh?"
"Yeah, I was born there. Went to Boston College. My dad is Sheldon Roark, a notorious criminal lawyer in Boston."
"I guess I've missed him. What brings you to Mississippi?"
"I'm in law school at Ole Miss."
"Ole Miss! How'd you wind up down here?"
"My mother's from Natchez. She was a sweet little sorority girl at Ole Miss, then moved to New York!, where she met my father."
"I married a sweet little sorority girl from Ole Miss."
"They have a great selection."
"Would you like coffee?"
"No thanks."
"Well, now that we know each other, what brings you to Clanton?"
. "Carl Lee Hailey."
"I'm not surprised."
"I'll finish law school in December, and I'm killing time
in Oxford this summer. I'm taking criminal procedure under Guthrie, and I'm bored."
"Crazy George Guthrie."
"Yeah, he's still crazy.
"He flunked me in constitutional law my first year."
"Anyway, I'd like to help you with the trial."
Jake smiled and took a seat in Ethel's heavy-duty, rotating secretarial chair. He studied her carefully. Her black cotton polo shirt was fashionably weathered and neatly pressed. The outlines and subtle shadows revealed a healthy bustline, no bra. The thick, wavy hair fell perfectly on her shoulders.
"What makes you think I need help?"
"I know you practice alone, and I know you don't have a law clerk."
"How do you know all this?"
"Newsweek."
"Ah, yes. A wonderful publication. It was a good picture, wasn't it?"
"You looked a bit stuffy, but it was okay. You look better in person."
"What credentials do you bring with you?"
"Genius runs in my family. I finished summa cum laude at BC, and I'm second in my law class. Last summer I spent three months with the Southern Prisoners Defense League in Birmingham and played gofer in seven capital trials. I watched Elmer Wayne Doss die in the Florida electric chair and I watched Willie Ray Ash get lethally injected in Texas. In my spare time at Ole Miss I write briefs for the ACLU and I'm working on two death penalty appeals for a law firm in Spartanburg, South Carolina. I was raised in my father's law office, and I was proficient in legal research before I could drive. I've watched him defend murderers, rapists, embezzlers, extortionists, terrorists, assassins, child abusers, child fondlers, child killers, and children who killed their parents. I worked forty hours a week in his office when I was in high school and fifty when I was in college. He has eighteen lawyers in his firm, all very bright, very talented. It's a great training ground for criminal lawyers, and I've been there for fourteen years. I'm twenty-five years old, and when I grow up I want to be a radical criminal lawyer like my dad stamping out me death penalty."
"Is that all?"
"My dad's filthy rich, and even though we're Irish Catholic I'm an only child. I've got more money than you do so I'll work for free. No charge. A free law clerk for three weeks. I'll do all the research, typing, answering the phone. I'll even carry your briefcase and make the coffee."
"I was afraid you'd want to be a law partner."
"No. I'm a woman, and I'm in the South. I know my place."
"Why are you so interested in this case?"
"I want to be in the courtroom. I love criminal trials, big trials where there's a life on the line and pressure so thick you can see it in the air. Where the courtroom's packed and security is tight. Where half the people hate the defendant and his lawyers and the other half pray he gets off. I love it. And this is the trial of all trials. I'm not a Southerner and I find this place bewildering most of the time, but I have developed a perverse love for it. It'll never make sense to me, but it is fascinating. The racial implications are enormous. The trial of a black father for killing two white men who raped his daughter-my father said he would take the case for free."
"Tell him to stay in Boston."
"It's a trial lawyer's dream. I just want to be there. I'll stay out of the way, I promise. Just let me work in the background and watch the trial."