A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,125

and Kiera.”

“How extensive was the physical abuse?”

Libby quickly slid across the table an eight-by-ten color photo of Josie in the hospital with her face bandaged. She continued, “Well, we can start with Josie on the night in question. He slapped her in the face, then knocked her out with a broken jaw that required surgery.”

Noose gawked at the photo. Dyer frowned at his copy.

Libby said, “Josie will testify that the beatings were common and were happening with more frequency. She wanted to leave and was threatening to do so but had no place to go. The family, Your Honor, was living in a state of well-earned fear. Drew was being slapped around and threatened. And, Kiera was being sexually abused.”

“Come on!” Dyer hissed.

“I didn’t expect you to like it, Mr. Dyer, but it’s the truth and it needs to be discussed at trial.”

Dyer said angrily, “That’s the problem here, Judge, and this is why I filed a motion to compel testimony from the girl. Jake wouldn’t allow her to answer my questions. I have the right to know what she’ll say at trial.”

“A motion to compel in a criminal case?” Noose asked.

“Yes, Judge. It’s only fair. We’re getting ambushed here.”

Jake loved the word “ambush.” Just wait until you see her belly.

Noose said, “But if you call her to the stand, she’s your witness. I’m not sure how you can compel the testimony of your own witness.”

Dyer replied, “I’ll be forced to call her. There were three witnesses at the scene. The mother was unconscious and did not hear the gunshot. It’s unlikely the defendant will testify. That leaves the girl. Now I learn that she was sexually abused. This isn’t fair, Your Honor.”

“I’m not inclined to grant your motion to compel her to talk now.”

“Fine, then we won’t call her to the stand.”

“Then we will,” Jake said.

Dyer glared at him, fell back into his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. Defeated. He stewed for a moment as the tension rose, then said, “This just isn’t fair. You cannot allow this trial to descend into a one-sided slander-fest against a dead police officer.”

Jake said, “The facts are the facts, Mr. Dyer. We can’t change them.”

“No, but the court can certainly restrict some of this testimony.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Mr. Dyer. I’ll take your motion under advisement and rule at trial when I see where things are going. You can renew them at that time and you can certainly object to any testimony.”

“It’ll be too late,” Dyer said.

Damned right it will be, Jake thought to himself.

* * *

—

CARLA BAKED A pan of chicken thighs with cherry tomatoes and morel mushrooms, and they ate on the patio after dark. A thunderstorm had moved through and taken most of the humidity with it.

Avoiding all talk of murder and trials of teenage killers, they tried their best to stick to more pleasant matters. Libby told stories of growing up in Scotland, in a small town near Glasgow. Her father was a well-known barrister and had encouraged her to follow the law. Her mother taught literature at a nearby college and wanted her to become a doctor. An American teacher inspired her to study in the States, and she had never left. As a law student at Georgetown she had sat through a gut-wrenching trial of a seventeen-year-old boy with a low IQ and a heartbreaking history. He had been given life without parole, a death sentence. Enough of that. Her next story was about her first husband, who was now on everybody’s short list to be nominated to the Supreme Court.

Dr. Thane Sedgwick had spent three hours with Drew in his cell and preferred to talk about something else. They would meet for two more hours in the morning, and Sedgwick would prepare a lengthy profile. Sedgwick was quite the raconteur. His father had been a rancher in rural Texas and he’d spent his childhood in a saddle. His great-grandfather had once shot two cattle rustlers, loaded their bodies into his wagon, and delivered them to the sheriff two hours away. The sheriff thanked him.

Late in the evening, Libby said to Sedgwick, “I doubt you’ll be needed in this trial.”

“Oh really. Feeling pretty confident, huh?”

“No,” Jake quipped. “We have no grounds for confidence.”

Libby said, “I see a trial that will be difficult for either side to win.”

“You don’t know these jurors,” Jake said. “In spite of what you heard today, there will be a lot of sympathy for the deceased, and