paper mill, a little money in the bank, security, stability, church every Sunday together, a loving family. Then, for reasons known only to God, two drunk, drugged punks committed a horrible, violent act against this little ten-year-old girl. They shocked us, and made us all feel sick. They ruined her life, and the lives of her parents and family. It was too much for her father. He snapped. He broke. Now he's in jail facing trial and the prospect of the gas chamber. The job is gone. The money is gone. The innocence is gone. The children face the possibility of growing up without their father. Their mother must now find a job to support them, and she'll have to beg and borrow from friends and relatives in order to survive.
"To answer your question, sir, the family has been devastated and destroyed."
Gwen began crying quietly, and Jake handed ner a handkerchief.
"Are you hinting at a defense of insanity?"
"Yes."
"Will there in fact be a plea of insanity?"
"Yes."
"Can you prove it?"
"That will be left for the jury. We will provide them experts in the field of psychiatry."
"Have you already consulted with these experts?"
"Yes," lied Jake.
"Could you give us their names?"
"No, that would be inappropriate at this point."
"We've heard rumors of death threats against Mr. Hai-ley. Could you confirm?"
"There continue to be threats against Mr. Hailey, his family, my family, the sheriff, the judge, just about everyone involved. I don't know how serious they are."
Carl Lee patted Tonya on the leg and looked blankly at the table. He looked scared, pitiful, and in need of sympathy. His boys looked scared too, but, according to strict orders, they stood at attention, afraid to move. Carl Lee, Jr., the oldest at fifteen, stood behind Jake. Jarvis, the middle son at thirteen, stood behind his daddy. And Robert, age eleven, stood behind his mother. They wore identical navy suits with white shirts and little red bow ties. Robert's" suit was once Carl Lee, Jr.'s, then Jarvis's, and now his, and it looked a bit more worn than the other two. But it was clean, neatly pressed, and perfectly cuffed. The boys looked sharp. How could any juror vote to force these children to live without their father?
The press conference was a hit. Segments of it ran on the networks and local stations, both on the evening and late news. The Thursday papers ran front page pictures of the Haileys and their lawyer.
The Swede had called several times during the two weeks her husband had been in Mississippi. She didn't trust him down there. There were old girlfriends he had confessed to. Each time she called, Lester was not around, and Gwen lied and explained that he was fishing or cutting pulpwood so they could buy groceries. Gwen was tired of lying, and Lester was tired of carousing, and they were tired of each other. When the phone rang before dawn Friday morning, Lester answered it. It was the Swede.
Two hours later the red Cadillac was parked at the jail. Moss Junior led Lester into Carl Lee's cell. The brothers whispered above the sleep of the inmates.
"Gotta go home," Lester mumbled, somewhat ashamed, somewhat timid.
"Why?" Carl Lee asked as if he had been expecting it.
"My wife called this mornin'. I gotta be at work tomorrow or I'm fired."
Carl Lee nodded approvingly.
"I'm sorry, bubba. I feel bad about goin', but I ain't got no choice."
"I understand. When you comin' back?"
"When you want me back?"
"For the trial. It'll be real hard on Gwen and the kids. Can you be back then?"
"You know I'll be here. I got some vacation time and all. I'll be here."
They sat on the edge of Carl Lee's bunk and watched each other in silence. The cell was dark and quiet. The two bunks opposite Carl Lee's were empty.
"Man, I forgot how bad this place is," Lester said.
"I just hope I ain't here much longer."
They stood and embraced, and Lester called for Moss Junior to open the cell. "I'm proud of you, bubba," he said to his older brother, then left for Chicago.
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who met him in Ozzie's office. Jake was red eyed and irritable.
"Carl Lee, I talked to two psychiatrists in Memphis yesterday. Do you know what the minimum fee is to evaluate you for trial purposes? Do you?"
"Am I supposed to know?" asked Carl Lee.
"One thousand dollars," Jake shouted. "One thousand dollars. Where can you find a thousand dollars?"