A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,166

gained. Age, physical limits, medications, doctors’ orders, dietary restrictions, addictions. After half an hour of this, Noose had managed not only to not raise a single hand, but he was boring them to death.

As the jurors watched and listened to the judge, the lawyers studied the jurors. On the front row there were nine whites and one black woman, May Taggart. On the second row there were seven white women, including Della Fancher at number fifteen, and three black men. Four blacks in the first twenty, not a bad percentage, and Jake asked himself for the hundredth time if he was correct in his assumption that blacks would be more sympathetic. Lucien thought so because a white cop was involved. Harry Rex had his doubts because the crime was white on white and race was not a factor. Jake had argued that in Mississippi race was always a factor. Looking at the faces, he still preferred younger female jurors of any color. And, he was assuming that Lowell Dyer wanted older white men.

On the third row there was one black, Mr. Rodney Cote, at number twenty-seven.

As Noose plodded on, Jake occasionally glanced at the spectators. His lovely wife was by far the most attractive person in the room. Harry Rex, in a plaid shirt, sat low in the back. For a second, his eyes met those of Cecil Kofer, who couldn’t help himself and offered a smirk behind his scraggly red beard. As if to say, “I kicked your ass once and I’d love to do it again.” Jake shook it off and returned to his notes.

When His Honor finished with the required questions, he shuffled papers and readjusted his posture. “Now, the deceased, the victim in this case, was a county deputy named Stuart Kofer, age thirty-three at the time of his death. He was born in Ford County and still has family there. Did any of you know him?”

No volunteers.

“Do any of you know anyone in his family?”

A hand went up on the fourth row. Finally, after an hour, a response from the pool. Number thirty-eight was Mr. Kenny Banahand.

“Yes sir, please stand, give us your name, and explain your relationship with the family.”

Banahand stood slowly, somewhat embarrassed, and said, “Well, Judge, I don’t really know the family, but my son once worked with Barry Kofer at the distribution plant near Karaway.” Jake looked at Barry, who was seated next to his mother.

“Thank you, Mr. Banahand. Did you ever meet Barry Kofer?”

“No sir.”

“Thank you. Please be seated. Anyone else?”

“Okay. Now, you’ve already been introduced to the defendant, Mr. Drew Allen Gamble. Has anyone ever met him?”

Of course not. The trip from the jail was Drew’s first excursion into Van Buren County.

“His mother is Josie Gamble and his sister is Kiera. Anyone ever met them?”

No one.

Noose waited for a moment, then continued. “There are four lawyers involved in this trial and you’ve already met them. I’ll start with Mr. Jake Brigance. Has anyone ever met him?”

No volunteers. Jake had memorized the list and knew the sad truth that his struggling practice and meager reputation had not stretched far beyond Ford County. There was a chance that a few in the pool might recognize his name from the Hailey trial, but the question was: Had they ever met Jake? No they had not. That trial had been five years ago.

“Have you or anyone in your immediate family ever been involved in a case in which Mr. Brigance was one of the lawyers?”

No hands. Rodney Cote sat motionless, even stoic, with no expression whatsoever. If quizzed later, he could claim that the word “immediate” confused him. Gwen Hailey, Carl Lee’s wife, was a distant cousin, one of many Rodney didn’t consider to be “immediate.” He looked directly at Jake and their eyes met.

Noose moved on to Libby Provine, a Scottish woman from D.C. who had first traveled to their county that very morning. Not surprisingly, no one in the pool had ever heard of her.

Lowell Dyer was an elected official who lived in Gretna, up in Tyler County. Noose was saying, “Now, I’m sure many of you folks met Mr. Dyer when he was campaigning here three years ago, probably at a rally or a barbecue. He received sixty percent of the vote in this county, but let’s assume for right now he got most of your votes.”

“A hundred percent, Judge,” Lowell said with perfect timing and everyone laughed. Humor was desperately needed.

“Let’s go with a hundred percent. Now,