A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,26

Carl Lee Hailey, and had stunned the jury by admitting he admired the man who blew off his leg. Mick Swayze had a crazy cousin that Jake had successfully shipped off to the state mental hospital, at no charge.

Granted, the legal work wasn’t much—wills and deeds and small stuff that Jake charged little for. Pro bono work was not unusual.

As he studied the ceiling fan, he had to admit that not a single law enforcement officer had ever brought him a decent case. And wouldn’t they understand if he represented Drew? Sure they were in shock at the murder of a colleague, but they realized that someone, some lawyer, had to represent the accused. Might they feel better if the lawyer was Jake, a friend they trusted?

Was he about to make a courageous decision, or the biggest mistake of his career?

He finally walked to his desk, picked up the phone, and called Carla.

Then he called Judge Noose.

6

It was dark when he left the office and even darker as he walked around the deserted square. It was almost eight on a Sunday night and not a single store or café was open. The jail, however, was bristling with activity. As he turned down the street and saw the fleet of patrol cars parked haphazardly around the buildings, and the news trucks—one from Tupelo, one from Jackson—and the crowd of men loitering outside smoking and talking quietly, a sharp pain hit low in his stomach. He felt as though he was walking directly into enemy territory.

He knew the layout well and decided to duck down a side street and enter the sprawling office complex through a rear door. The buildings had been enlarged and renovated over time and with no clear plan as to what might be constructed next. Along with the twenty or so cells and holding rooms and reception areas and cramped hallways, the complex housed the sheriff’s department on one end and the Clanton City Police on the other. For the sake of simplicity, all of it was simply referred to as the “jail.”

And on that dark night the jail was packed with every person even remotely connected to law enforcement. It was indeed a brotherhood; the comfort in being with others who wore the badge.

A jailer told Jake that Ozzie was in his office with the door locked. Jake asked him to inform the sheriff that he needed to speak with him and would wait outside near the yard, a fenced area where the inmates often played basketball and checkers. In good weather, Jake and the other lawyers in town would sit on an old picnic table under a tree and chat with their clients through the chain-link fence. At night, though, the yard was dark as all prisoners were locked away. Their small cell windows were secured by rows of thick bars.

At that moment, Jake had no clients serving time in the jail, other than his latest one. He had two boys at the state penitentiary at Parchman, both for selling drugs. One had a mother with a big mouth and was blaming Jake for their family’s demise.

A door opened and Ozzie appeared, alone. He strolled over, in no hurry, as if his shoulders were weighted, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Instead of extending a hand, he cracked his knuckles and gazed across the yard.

“Rough day,” Jake said.

Ozzie grunted and said, “The worst one yet. Got the call at three this mornin’ and haven’t slowed down since. It’s tough losin’ a deputy, Jake.”

“I’m sorry, Ozzie. I knew Stu and liked him. I can’t imagine what you guys are going through.”

“He was a great guy, kept us all in stitches. Maybe a darker side, but we can’t talk about that.”

“And you’ve met with his family?”

Ozzie took a deep breath and shook his head. “I drove out, paid my respects. They’re not the most stable people I’ve met. They’ve called here this afternoon askin’ about the boy. Two of them showed up at the hospital, said they wanted to talk to the boy’s mother. Crazy stuff like that. So now I’ve got a deputy parked outside her room. You better watch these guys, Jake.”

Just what the little Brigance family needed. More crazies to worry about.

Ozzie cleared his throat and spat on the ground. “I just talked to Noose.”

“So did I,” Jake said. “He wouldn’t take no.”

“He told me he leaned on you, said you didn’t want to get involved.”

“Who would, Ozzie? Certainly nobody from around here.