reporters, anyone. We just listen. We listen to the prosecutor and see what kind of case he's got. They're supposed to have an eyewitness, and he might testify. Ozzie will testify and tell the judge about the gun, the fingerprints, and Looney-"
"How's Looney?"
"Don't know. Worse than they thought."
"Man, I feel bad 'bout shootin' Looney. I didn't even see the man."
"Well, they're going to charge you with aggravated assault for shooting Looney. Anyway, the preliminary is just a formality. Its purpose is to allow the judge to determine if there's enough evidence to bind you over to the grand jury. Bullard always does that, so it's just a formality."
"Then why do it?"
"We could waive it," replied Jake, thinking of all the
cameras he would miss. "But I don't like to. It's a good chance to see what kind of case the State has."
"Well, Jake, I'd say they gotta pretty good case, wouldn't you?"
"I would think so. But let's just listen. That's the strategy of a preliminary hearing. Okay?"
"Sounds good to me. You talked to Gwen or Lester today?"
"No, I called them Monday night."
"They were here yesterday in Ozzie's office. Said they'd be in court today."
"I think everyone will be in court today."
Jake left. In the parking lot he brushed by some of the reporters who were awaiting Carl Lee's departure from jail. He had no comments for them and no comments for the reporters waiting outside his office. He was too busy at the moment for questions, but he was very aware of the cameras. At one-thirty he went to the courthouse and hid in the law library on the third floor.
Ozzie and Moss Junior and the deputies watched the parking lot and quietly cursed the mob of reporters and cameramen. It was one forty-five, time to transport the prisoner to court.
"Kinda reminds me of a buncha vultures waitin' for a dead dog beside the highway," Moss Junior observed as he gazed through the blinds.
"Rudest buncha folks I ever saw," added Prather. "Won't take no for an answer. They expect the whole town to cater to them."
"And that's only half of them-other half s waitin' at the courthouse."
Ozzie hadn't said much. One newspaper had criticized him for the shooting, implying the security around the courthouse was intentionally relaxed. He was tired of the press. Twice Wednesday he had ordered reporters out of the jail.
"I got an idea," he said.
"What?" asked Moss Junior.
"Is Curtis Todd still in jail?"
"Yep. Gets out next week."
"He sorta favors Carl Lee, don't he?"
"Whatta you mean?"
"Well, I mean, he's 'bout as black as Carl Lee, roughly the same height and weight, ain't he?"
"Yeah, well, so what?" asked Prather.
Moss Junior grinned and looked at Ozzie, whose eyes never left the window. "Ozzie, you wouldn't."
"What?" asked Prather.
"Let's go. Get Carl Lee and Curtis Todd," Ozzie ordered. "Drive my car around back. Bring Todd here for some instructions."
Ten minutes later the front door of the jail opened and a squad of deputies escorted the prisoner down the sidewalk. Two deputies walked in front, two behind, and one on each side of the man with the thick sunglasses and handcuffs, which were not fastened. As they approached the reporters, the cameras clicked and rolled. The questions flew:
"Sir, will you plead guilty?"
"Sir, will you plead not guilty?"
"Sir, how will you plead?"
"Mr. Hailey, will you plead insanity?"
The prisoner smiled and continued the slow walk to the waiting patrol cars. The deputies smiled grimly and ignored the mob. The photographers scrambled about trying to get the perfect shot of the most famous vigilante in the country.
Suddenly, with the nation watching, with deputies all around him, with dozens of reporters recording his every move, the prisoner broke and ran. He jolted, jumped, twisted, and squirmed, running wildly across the parking lot, over a ditch, across the highway, into some trees and out of sight. The reporters shouted and broke ranks and several even chased him for a moment. Curiously, the deputies ran back to the jail and slammed the door, leaving the vultures roaming in circles of disarray. In the woods, the prisoner removed the handcuffs and walked home. Curtis Todd had just been paroled one week early.
Ozzie, Moss Junior, and Carl Lee quickly left through the rear of the jail and drove down a back street to the courthouse, where more deputies waited to escort him into the courthouse.
"How many niggers out there?" Bullard screamed at Mr. Pate.
"A ton."
"Wonderful! A ton of niggers. I guess there's a ton of rednecks too?"