reasonable man?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means—can you talk to him? On the sly, you know, off the record, over a beer.”
Carl Lee smiled and said, “I get it.”
They were walking to Jake’s car. “What’s this?” Carl Lee asked.
“A new set of wheels.”
“What happened to that funky little red thang?”
“It quit.”
“About time.”
* * *
—
JAKE WAS ELATED as he drove back to town. With luck, and perhaps a bit of coaching from Carl Lee, Rodney Cote could survive the barrage of qualifying questions to be thrown at the pool during selection. Was he related to Drew Gamble? Obviously not. Did he know anyone in the defendant’s family? No. No one knew the Gambles. Did he know the deceased? No. Did he know any of the lawyers for either the prosecution or defense? Here, Rodney would have to be careful. Though he’d never met Jake, he certainly knew who he was, which in itself would not disqualify him. In small towns it was inevitable that potential jurors knew some of the lawyers. Rodney should remain silent here. Mr. Brigance over there is involved in the private practice of law: He ever do any business for you or anyone in your family? Again, Rodney should not raise his hand. Jake had represented Carl Lee, not Gwen. Being married to a non-blood relative was not close enough to warrant further examination, at least not in Jake’s opinion.
Jake was suddenly obsessed with getting Rodney Cote on the jury, but he would need some luck. Next Monday, when they first arrived in the courtroom, the jurors would be seated at random, not alphabetically. Each would get a number pulled from a hat. If Rodney was in the first forty or so, he stood a good chance of making the final twelve, with some skillful manipulation by Jake. A high number meant he would not make it.
The problem would be Willie Hastings, Gwen’s cousin, on her mother’s side, and the first black deputy hired by Sheriff Walls. Ozzie was undoubtedly already working for the prosecution, polling his deputies, and if Willie spoke up about Rodney Cote, then he would be struck for good cause.
Perhaps Ozzie might not quiz Hastings. Perhaps Hastings didn’t know Cote, but that was unlikely.
Jake almost turned around for another chat with Carl Lee, but decided to do it later. Soon, though.
* * *
—
BY WEDNESDAY, THE walls of the jury room were covered with more maps and more names stuck to the maps with colored push-pins. Dozens of enlarged photos were tacked to the maps, photos of cars and old pickups, tidy homes in towns and trailers in the country, farmhouses, churches, gravel driveways with no homes in sight, small stores where people worked, and low-wage factories that produced shoes and lamps. The average household in the county earned $31,000 a year, barely enough to survive, and the photos told the tale. Prosperity had bypassed Van Buren County and its population was declining, a sad trend that was not unusual in rural Mississippi.
Harry Rex had tracked down seven names. Morris Finley added another ten. Hal Fremont recognized only a few names on the list. As small as the county was, trying to pinpoint ninety-seven names out of 17,000 was still an uphill battle. Darrel and Rusty had managed to procure eleven church directories, and these revealed the names of twenty-one prospective jurors. There were at least a hundred churches, though, and most were too small to print the names of their members. Portia was still digging through the public records but had found little of value. Four of the prospects had divorced in the last ten years. One bought a 200-acre tract of land the year before. Two had been arrested for drunk driving. How this gossip was supposed to help was lost on the team.
By Thursday, Jake and Portia were playing the name game as they worked. He picked a name from the list, announced it, and from memory she either rattled off what little info they had or admitted they had nothing. Then she picked a name and from memory he spouted the person’s age, race, gender, and anything else they had learned. They worked late into the nights, combing their data, nicknaming the jurors, and memorizing everything. The selection process could be slow and tedious, but there would also be moments when Jake would need to react quickly, saying yes or no after only a moment’s reflection, before moving on to the next prospect. Because it was a capital case, Noose