A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,155

population of any of the five in the Twenty-second Judicial District, and in his twelve years as a lawyer Jake had spent almost no time there. There had been no reason to. Not for the first time, he asked himself if he had made a mistake in insisting on a change of venue. At least in Ford County he would recognize a few of the names. Harry Rex would know even more.

Portia made ten copies, took one with her, said goodbye, and headed for the courthouse in Chester where she would spend the next three days poring over the public records for land transactions, divorces, wills, vehicle loans, and criminal charges. Jake faxed one copy to Harry Rex and one to Hal Fremont, a lawyer buddy across the square who had moved to Clanton a few years back when his practice in Chester dried up. He faxed another copy to Morris Finley, the only lawyer he knew in Van Buren County.

At ten, he met with Darrel and Rusty, two brothers who worked as Clanton city policemen and moonlit as private investigators. As was typical in small jurisdictions, the city police played second fiddle to the county sheriff’s department and there was no love lost between the two forces. Darrel knew Stuart Kofer in passing; Rusty did not. It didn’t matter—for $50 an hour each, they were happy to get the work. Jake gave them the list and firm instructions not to get noticed as they snooped around Van Buren County. They were expected to find and photograph, if possible, the homes, vehicles, and neighborhoods of the potential jurors. When they left, Jake mumbled to himself, “They’ll probably make more off this case than me.”

The Smallwood war room downstairs had been converted to the makeshift headquarters for the Gamble jury. On one wall there was a large map of the county, and on it Jake and Portia had marked every church, school, highway, county road, and country store. Another large map laid out the city streets of Chester. Working from the list, Jake began locating as many of the addresses as possible and memorizing names.

He could almost envision the jury. White with maybe two or three blacks. Hopefully more women than men. Average age of fifty-five. Rural, conservative, religious.

Booze could be a big factor in the trial. Van Buren was still a dry county, and fiercely so. Its last liquor vote was in 1947 and the drinkers lost in a landslide. Since then the Baptists had squelched any efforts to have another election. Each county controlled its liquor laws and half the state was still dry. As always, the bootleggers did a brisk business in the parched areas, but Van Buren had a reputation as the home of serious teetotalers.

How would these sober folks react to the testimony that Stuart Kofer was a raging drunk the night he died? That there was enough alcohol in his blood to practically kill him? That he’d spent the afternoon drinking beer and then topped it off with illegal moonshine as he and his friends blacked out?

The jurors would certainly be shocked and disapproving, but they would also be conservative enough to love the men in uniform. Killing an officer called for the death penalty, a punishment revered in those parts.

At noon, Jake left town and drove twenty minutes to a lumber mill deep in the county. He saw Carl Lee Hailey eating a sandwich with his men in the shade of a small pavilion and waited in his new car, which was not recognizable. When they finished lunch, Jake walked over and said hello. Carl Lee was surprised to see him and at first thought there might be some trouble. Jake explained what he was after. He gave Carl Lee a list of the jurors and asked him and Gwen to study the names and quietly ask around. Most of her large family still lived in Van Buren County and not far from Chester.

“This ain’t illegal, is it?” he asked, flipping a page.

“Would I ask you to do something illegal, Carl Lee?”

“Probably not.”

“This is pretty typical stuff in a jury trial. You sure can believe we did it for yours.”

“Something worked,” Carl Lee said with a laugh. He flipped another page and stopped laughing. “Jake, this guy here is married to Gwen’s cousin on her daddy’s side.”

“His name?”

“Rodney Cote. Know him pretty well. He was in the courtroom for my trial.”

Jake was thrilled but tried not to show it. “Is he a