Between Black and White (26 page)

69

Darla Ford did not look like a stripper when she took the stand as the first witness for the defense on Thursday afternoon. On the contrary, in her navy suit and medium-length brown hair, she gave the appearance of an affluent businesswoman. Over the course of an hour, Darla took the jury through a quick summary of her life story. From high school in Pulaski to not having enough money for college, to taking a job first as a waitress and then a dancer at the Sundowners. Rick covered it all. The money she made and saved up as a stripper, her relationship with Andy Walton, and Andy’s bequeathment to her of a hundred thousand dollars upon his death. He ended this line of questioning with Darla’s current quest to be a restaurant entrepreneur in Destin.

While Darla testified, Tom couldn’t help but glance at Maggie Walton, sitting as stoic as ever in the row behind the prosecution table. If Darla’s testimony bothered her, it didn’t show. She held her Bible and stared straight ahead, not even looking at the witness stand. He wondered if Maggie knew about Andy and Darla, and he guessed that she probably did. Tom took Maggie for the kind of woman who would look the other way if her man decided to stray, just as long as he continued to provide her with the kind of life to which she was accustomed.

Through the entire direct examination, Darla came across calm, confident, and likeable. Best of all, Rick thought, she was believable. It was Darla who had called what she did at the Sundowners “stripping,” making no bones about her role. “My job was to take my clothes off for money, and I was very good at it. I had a regular client list of at least fifteen men . . . and two women.”

Rick concluded his direct examination by covering Darla’s interactions with Andy Walton during the last two weeks of his life.

“Ms. Ford, did Andy Walton ever tell you that he killed Roosevelt Haynes?” Rick asked.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Helen said. “Hearsay.”

Connelly moved her eyes to Rick, and he did not hesitate with his response. “Your Honor, a witness’s statements against interest are an exception to hearsay.”

“Overruled,” Connelly said. “The witness may answer the question.”

“Yes,” Darla said, speaking to the jury and not Rick. “He said he was responsible for the killing, and he was worried that the truth wasn’t ever going to come out.”

“Did he tell you why he was worried about that?”

Helen was on her feet. “Again, Your Honor, the question calls for rank hearsay.”

This time Rick responded before Connelly could even call for a response. “Your Honor, this entire line of questioning will ask Ms. Ford to recall statements made by Mr. Walton against his own interest. Also, we are not offering Mr. Walton’s statements for the truth of the matter asserted, but rather for the state of mind of Ms. Ford.”

Connelly pondered for a few seconds and then nodded at Rick. “I’m going to allow it.”

“Ms. Ford?” Rick prompted.

Again, Darla turned her eyes to the jury. “He had pancreatic cancer. It was terminal. He wasn’t sure how long he had left, and he was afraid the truth was going to die with him. He said he wanted to make things right.”

“And did he ever say what he meant by ‘making things right’?”

Darla nodded. “He was going to confess.”

“When did this conversation with Mr. Walton take place?”

“In early August, about two weeks before he died.”

“Ms. Ford, did you tell anyone about Mr. Walton’s intention to confess to the murder of Roosevelt Haynes?”

“Yes,” Darla said.

“Who?” Rick asked.

“My boss,” Darla said, sweeping her eyes over the jury. “Larry Tucker.”

“And when did you tell Mr. Tucker about it?”

“The same night that Mr. Walton told me.”

“Which was two weeks before Andy Walton’s murder?”

Darla nodded. “Correct.”

“Ms. Ford,” Rick began, moving his own eyes over the jury. “Was Larry Tucker in the Ku Klux Klan with Andy Walton?”

“I don’t know,” Darla said.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Rick said.

Given the circumstances, Rick knew it was the best he could do. He turned to his partner for approval, but the Professor was not looking at Rick. Instead, he was focused on the double doors to the courtroom, which had just opened behind the defense table. Rick followed the Professor’s gaze and felt a wave of relief at what he saw.

Ray Ray Pickalew, sporting a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, and crimson tie, was standing in the opening.

Helen’s cross-examination focused on the things that Darla Ford did not know. Though she was with Andy Walton an hour before he died, she did not witness his murder. She did not see who killed him. At the time she left the Sundowners that night, Larry Tucker had long since gone for the evening.

The last thing she remembered was Andy Walton walking slowly to his pickup truck in the parking lot of the Sundowners Club.

Darla actually teared up during this part of the questioning, clearly upset at the image of Mr. Walton alone in the moments before he was killed.

When Helen finished, Rick said he had no further questions for Ms. Ford.

As she descended the witness chair, Darla gave Rick a quick wink and walked out of the courtroom.

“The defense may call its next witness.”

Tom turned to Ray Ray. “Is your witness out in the lobby?” he asked, his voice a scratchy whisper. Other than nodding when Tom had asked if the witness was at the courthouse and ready to testify, Ray Ray had yet to utter a word. Of course, there was no way they could really talk during Helen’s cross-examination of Ford.

Ray Ray shook his head. “No, Tommy boy.”

“What?” Tom felt his stomach turn. “You said he was here.”

“Mr. McMurtrie,” Judge Connelly said, her voice rising, the annoyance in it clear, “call your next witness. We have a jury waiting.”

“Ray Ray, go get the witness,” Tom said, grabbing him hard by the shoulder. “Rick just set it up with Ford on the stand. If you have someone that puts Tucker and Curtis at that clearing when Roosevelt Haynes was lynched, we need to call him now.”

“He’s here,” Ray Ray said.

“Then go get him, for God’s sake.”
Tom’s voice rose well above a whisper. He was breaking one of his long-standing rules for behavior in a courtroom. He was losing his cool.

“I can’t,” Ray Ray said, standing from the table.

Tom also stood, forgetting the pain in his knee and putting both hands on Ray Ray’s arms, shaking his old friend. Had he lost his mind?
“What do you mean you can’t? What are you talking about? Why?”

Connelly banged her gavel on the table. “Mr. McMurtrie, what is going on . . . ?” Connelly said more, but Tom didn’t hear it.

“Because
I’m the witness
,” Ray Ray said. “Me. Raymond . . . James . . . Pickalew.”

Tom staggered back away from him. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Connelly banged her gavel again, and then Tom heard his partner speak from just to the side of him.

“Your Honor, the defendant calls Raymond James Pickalew.”

Helen Lewis literally jumped to her feet as she saw Ray Ray swagger toward the witness stand. “Objection, Your Honor. May we approach?”

Her words were barely heard as the courtroom stirred to life.

Connelly banged her gavel and glared at Rick. “I want all counsel in my chambers this instant. You too, Mr. Pickalew.” She turned to the jury. “Members of the jury, we are going to take a fifteen-minute break.”

Connelly strode off the bench toward the door that would take her to her chambers, her black robe flowing behind her.

Tom felt a rough hand on his shoulder and heard a ragged voice. “What’s going on?” Bo asked.

Tom turned to his client, his mind and body still in shock.

“Professor, what’s happening here?” Bo asked again.

“I don’t know,” Tom said, forcing his lips to move. Then his feet. “Come on, let’s go.”

“She only said counsel,” Bo said.

“You should be in on this, Bo,” Tom said, having fully gained his composure. “Whatever this is”—he looked to the witness stand, but Ray Ray was gone, having followed Connelly to her chambers—“you need to hear it.”

70

Once they were all in the judge’s chambers, Helen did not waste any time.

“Your Honor, Raymond Pickalew is of record as counsel for Mr. Haynes. A lawyer cannot testify in a case he is trying.”

Tom cleared his throat, shooting a glance at Ray Ray. The Joker grin covered Ray Ray’s broad face.

“All I did was help pick the jury, Your Honor,” Ray Ray said. “I haven’t examined a single witness, and I haven’t even sat at the table for all of it. Me testifying will be no different to that jury than when Ennis testified, and Ennis has sat at the prosecution table the entire case.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Pickalew was not included on the defendant’s witness list. This is an outrage. An ambush.” Helen’s fists were clinched at her sides. “And it should not be allowed. I move for sanctions against Mr. McMurtrie, Mr. Drake, and Mr. Pickalew for this outrage on our court.”

“Your Honor, we had no idea that Mr. Pickalew would be a witness for the defense,” Tom said, thinking as fast as he could as he went through what Ray Ray had indicated “his witness” would say. “Based on what this witness will reveal, it is our position that justice demands that Mr. Pickalew be heard.”

“And just what is this witness going to reveal?” Connelly asked, her voice awash with frustration and annoyance. “Really, Mr. McMurtrie, I agree with the General. I cannot imagine how Mr. Pickalew can testify in this case.”

“This witness”—Ray Ray began, and everyone else in the room stopped talking. Ray Ray, who had been standing near the back of the office, took a step forward. He did not look at Judge Connelly. Instead, he focused his eyes on Bo—“is going to reveal the names of the men who were present at the clearing at Walton Farm when Roosevelt Haynes was murdered.”

The room remained utterly silent as Ray Ray took another step into the room. He was now standing right in front of Bo, his side to the judge.

Bocephus Haynes rose to his full height of six feet four inches tall.

“And just how in the hell are you going to do that, Pickalew?” Helen asked, her voice a high-pitched whine. “Good grief, how much have you had to drink today?”

But no one else in the room moved or spoke. All eyes were on Ray Ray and Bo.

“I’m stone sober,” Ray Ray said.

“How?” Bo asked, his voice an anguished crackle. “How can you name those men?”

Tom rose and stepped between his two friends.

“How?” Bo repeated, looking over Tom’s shoulder and into the eyes of Ray Ray Pickalew.
“How?”

“Because I was one of them,” Ray Ray said.

71

Seconds after Ray Ray’s pronouncement, Sheriff Ennis Petrie and two deputies burst into the judge’s chambers. When Ray Ray had begun talking only to Bo, Judge Connelly had pressed the security button. Everyone in the room turned to Ennis, who was looking at Connelly.

“Sheriff, please take Mr. Pickalew into custody and hold him in my clerk’s office across the hall.”

The sheriff did as he was told, taking Ray Ray by the arm.

“I’m sorry, Bo,” Ray Ray said. “I’m so sorry.”

As Ray Ray was led out of Connelly’s chambers, Bo slowly sank to his seat, his legs wobbly.

“Judge, it would be highly prejudicial and improper to allow Mr. Pickalew to testify in this case,” Helen began. “This case is about Andy Walton’s murder. Not Roosevelt Haynes. Besides, Mr. Pickalew has rights. He will be confessing to murder.”

Connelly leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with her hands. “Son of a . . .
bitch
,” she said, shaking her head as if to rid it of the memory of what she had just seen. Her eyes shifted to Tom for a response.

Tom glanced down at Bo, who was clearly in shock. “It is very
ironic
,” Tom began, “for General Lewis to be concerned about Mr. Pickalew’s
rights.
Based on what Mr. Pickalew has already admitted to all of us here, I do not think he will have any hesitation to testifying on the stand to what he saw . . . and what he did. It is our expectation that such testimony will place Larry Tucker and Dr. George Curtis as participants in the lynching of Roosevelt Haynes. We have already heard testimony from Darla Ford that she informed Larry Tucker that Andy Walton intended to confess to this murder in the two weeks or so before Andy was killed. Mr. Tucker’s phone records from the Sundowners show multiple calls to Dr. Curtis in the fourteen days prior to Mr. Walton’s murder. Combined with Darla Ford’s testimony, Mr. Pickalew’s expected testimony will provide a strong motive for either Curtis or Tucker to have committed the murder of Andy Walton.”

“Judge, there is not a shred of physical evidence linking Dr. Curtis or Mr. Tucker to this crime. No evidence was found at the scene of the crime implicating either man.”

“Your Honor, Larry Tucker’s strip club
is the
scene of the crime.
How big of a physical link does General Lewis need? Mr. Haynes is on trial for his life. He should be allowed to show an alternative theory for this crime.”

Judge Connelly slammed both hands on her desk and abruptly rose to her feet. “I’m going to allow it. The defense is entitled to show evidence of other suspects’ motive.”

“Your Honor, this witness wasn’t disclosed. You should not allow this ambush.”

“Mr. McMurtrie, when did you know that Mr. Pickalew would be a witness for the defense?” Connelly asked, turning to Tom.

“A few seconds before my partner called his name. Ray Ray hadn’t told us anything.”

“Ray Ray is one of Mr. Haynes’s lawyers,”
Helen said, clearly exasperated by this turn of events. “A lawyer should not be allowed to testify in a case where he is also appearing as counsel.”

Connelly waved her hand at Helen as if to swat the argument down. “I’m going to allow it. It’s relevant to motive, and”—she paused, gazing down at Bo, who still sat shell-shocked in the chair before her—“it’s the right thing to do.”