was behind his square oak desk. Neat piles of papers covered its surface and gave the impression that, as disorganized as things appeared, he could locate any document in an instant.
“Come in, Jake,” he said with a smile but without getting to his feet. An ashtray big enough for pasta held half a dozen pipes, and the air was thick with their stale aroma. Two massive windows were each cracked about eight inches.
“Good afternoon, Judge,” Jake said as he made his way over, stepping around a coffee table, a magazine rack stuffed with old editions, stacks of lawbooks that belonged on shelves and not the floor, and two yellow Labs that were almost as old as their owner. Jake was certain that they had been puppies when he first visited Noose, over ten years ago. The dogs and His Honor had certainly aged, but everything else was timeless.
“Thanks for driving over, Jake. As you know, I had back surgery two months ago and I’m still recuperating. Pretty stiff down there, you know?”
Because of his gawky frame and long sloping nose, Noose had been tagged early on with the nickname of Ichabod. It seemed to fit, and when Jake started lawyering the nickname was so popular that everyone used it, behind his back, of course. But over time “Ichabod” had lost its popularity. At the moment, though, Jake remembered something Harry Rex had said years ago: “No one loves bad health like Ichabod Noose.”
“No problem, Judge,” Jake said.
“There are some issues we need to discuss,” Noose said as he took a pipe, banged it on the edge of the ashtray, then hit it with a small flamethrower that almost singed his craggy eyebrows.
Oh really? Jake thought. Why else would you send for me? “Yes sir, a number of issues.”
Noose sucked on the stem and filled his jaws. As he exhaled he said, “First of all, how’s Lucien? We go way back, you know?”
“Yes sir. Lucien is, well, he’s Lucien. Hasn’t changed much but is hanging around the office more.”
“Tell him I asked about him.”
“I will.” Lucien loathed Omar Noose, and Jake would never pass along the greeting.
“How’s that kid doing, Mr. Gamble? Still at Whitfield?”
“Yes sir. I speak with his counselor almost every day and she says he’s definitely dealing with trauma issues. She says he’s improving a little, but the kid has a lot of damage, and not just because of the shooting. It’ll take some time.” It would take an hour to fully brief the judge on everything Dr. Sadie Weaver had told Jake, and they didn’t have an hour. They would have the conversation later when a written report was received.
“I’d like to get him back in the jail in Clanton,” Noose said, puffing.
Jake shrugged because he had no control over Drew’s incarceration. However, he had said to Dr. Weaver that his client was much better off in a juvenile wing than in a county jail. “You can talk to them, Judge. You sent him down there and I’m sure his doctors would talk to you.”
“I might do that.” He put the pipe down and clasped his hands behind his head. “I gotta tell you, Jake, I can’t get anyone else to take the case. God knows I’ve tried.” He suddenly reached over, picked up a legal pad, and tossed it to the front of his desk as if Jake was supposed to have a look. “I’ve called seventeen lawyers, names are all right there, hell, you know most of them, seventeen lawyers with capital experience, from all over the state. I’ve talked to all of them on the phone, Jake, and some more than others. I’ve begged, pleaded, cajoled, and I would have threatened but I have no jurisdiction outside the Twenty-second. You know that. And nothing. Not a one. Nobody is willing to step up. I’ve called all the nonprofits—the Children’s Capital Defense Fund, the Juvenile Justice Initiative, the ACLU, and others. The names are all right there. They are very sympathetic and would like to help, and may indeed help, but right now nobody can spare a trial lawyer to defend this kid. You have any ideas?”
“No, but you promised, Judge.”
“I know that, and I meant it, but at the time I was desperate. I’m in charge of the judicial system in these parts, Jake, and it all fell on me to make sure this kid was taken care of, legally. You know what I went through. I had no choice. You were