Grass Roots (8 page)

“I want you to represent me.”

“I appreciate that, Larry, but you have to understand that another lawyer might do a better job for you in the present circumstances. At the very least, there are going to be delays associated with my situation, and that might mean taking longer to come to trial. If we can’t get you out on bail, you’d have to wait in jail all that time.”

Will took a deep breath and played his last card in getting out of the case.

“Now, if you tell the Judge this morning that you want another lawyer, well, he’ll have to grant your request. And I have to tell you, I think you’d be better off with somebody else. What do you say?”

“No, sir, I want you,” Moody said emphatically.

“I think you’re smart, and you’ll do a good job. Charlene thinks so, too.”

Will glanced over his shoulder to Charlene, who looked back at him and smiled slightly.

“Larry, this morning, somebody left twenty-five thousand dollars in cash at my office for your defense. With that sort of money available, I might even be able to get a top Atlanta criminal lawyer to take your case—somebody who’s got a real track record in murder trials.”

Larry shook his head.

“No, sir, I want you. So does Charlene,” he repeated.

Will was stuck now, and he knew it.

“All right, then, I guess I’m your lawyer,” he said.

“By the way, do you have any idea who might have put up the money for your defense?”

Larry shook his head.

“No.” “All rise!” the bailiff said loudly.

Judge Boggs walked briskly into the courtroom, robes flowing, sat down, and called his court to order.

“Mr. Hunter?” he said, looking at the prosecutor.

Elton Hunter rose.

“Your Honor, this is a preliminary hearing in the matter of the State of Georgia versus Larry Eugene Moody, on a charge of murder in the first degree.

I will call only one witness.”

“Call your witness.”

“The state calls Sheriff Clan Cox.” The sheriff rose from his seat, took the stand, and was sworn.

Will leaned over and whispered to Larry Moody, “The prosecution is playing it cagey by calling just the sheriff.

They don’t want us to know any more than we have to.”

Elton Hunter addressed his witness.

“Mr. Cox, you are the Sheriff of Meriwether County, are you not?”

“I am.”

“And you arrested the accused, Larry Eugene Moody, on Thursday last?”

“I did.”

“What cause did you have to request a warrant for his arrest?”

“I have a witness who can place the accused at the scene of the crime.

The witness has identified the accused at a properly constituted lineup. I have physical evidence of the crime found in a van belonging to the accused. I have interviewed the accused and am not satisfied with his account of his whereabouts between eight and ten p.m. on the night of the murder.” “Your witness, Mr. Lee,” Hunter said, returning to his seat.

Will rose.

“Good morning. Sheriff. Did your witness see the crime occur?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how do you know the witness saw my client at the scene of the crime?”

The sheriff reddened.

“I stand corrected,” he drawled.

“My witness observed the accused disposing of the body of the victim. I believe the scene of the crime to be in the van belonging to the accused. The van may have been moved after the murder.”

“I see. Then your witness did not see my client commit murder?”

“No, sir.”

“Did your witness see the face of the person who disposed of the victim’s body?”

The sheriff reddened further.

“Not exactly, but he is sure of his identification.”

“The witness did not see the face of the person, but he is certain it is my client. I see.” Will shot a glance of disbelief at the Judge, who remained expressionless.

“Now, Sheriff, you say you have physical evidence from Mr. Moody’s van. Is that evidence found by the State Crime Lab?”

“It is.”

“May I see a copy of the lab’s report, please?”

“Uh, I don’t have it yet. I’ve had a telephone report from the lab saying the fibers found on the victim’s body came from the van.”

“Now, Sheriff, the report didn’t say exactly that, did it?

Didn’t it say that the fibers were the same as some found in the van?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, that means only that the fibers are similar or the same, not that they came from the same source; am I right?”

“I guess so.”

“Good. Now, you say you aren’t satisfied with the accused’s account of his whereabouts at the time of the murder.

Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“In what respect are you not satisfied?”

“I didn’t believe him.”

“That’s all? No evidence that he was lying—just that you didn’t believe him?”

“I’ve got my witness.”

“What you mean, then, is that you prefer to believe your witness—who admits he didn’t see my client’s face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My client had an alibi, didn’t he?” “Yes, sir. He said he was home with his girlfriend.”

“That would be Miss. Charlene Joiner. Did you question her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did she corroborate his story?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you didn’t believe her, either.”

“No, sir.”

“Why not? Any evidence to the contrary?”

“Just what I’ve told you already.”

“So you preferred to believe your witness rather than Miss. Joiner, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.” The sheriff was becoming annoyed now.

“Sheriff, was an autopsy performed on the body of the deceased?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did the autopsy show that the deceased was raped before she was murdered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why is my client not charged with rape?”

“You’ll have to ask the prosecutor about that. It wasn’t my decision.”

“Very well; I’ll excuse you, Sheriff, and we’ll hear directly from Miss. Joiner herself. Your Honor, the defense calls Miss. Charlene Joiner.”

The sheriff and Charlene changed places, and she was sworn. She was composed and seemed almost demure.

“Miss. Joiner, where were you on last Thursday night?”

“I got home from work a little after six.”

“Were you home all evening?”

“Yes.”

“Where was Larry Moody during that time?”

“At home with me.”

“Did he leave the house after you came home from work?”

“No.”

“Not at all? He didn’t go to the grocery store? He didn’t go out for a beer?”

“No, he was at home with me until he went to work at eight o’clock the next morning.”

“Did you leave the house at all during that time?”

“No.”

“Miss. Joiner, do you understand that you are under oath, and that, if you lie to this court, you are liable not only for a charge of perjury, but one of being an accessory to murder?”

“Yes, I understand that, but I’m not lying. Larry was home with me from just after six that evening until eight the next morning.”

“I have no further questions for this witness. Your Honor.”

The Judge looked at Elton Hunter, and Hunter shook his head.

“You have any other witnesses, Mr. Lee?” the Judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor, one more. I call Mr. John Morgan.”

Morgan took the stand and was sworn.

“Mr. Morgan, how long have you known Larry Moody?”

“Well, since he was in high school, I guess. He played football, and I was a member of the Quarterback Club. I got to know him then.”

“And when did he come to work for you?”

“Right after he got out of high school. Larry was a little light for college ball, and he wanted to go to work.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I guess it was nearly seven years ago. He came to work in our La Grange store. We trained him, and eventually, two years ago, we sent him over here to Greenville. We have a lot of accounts here, and it seemed like a good idea to have a service office here.”

“Why did you choose him to come to Greenville?”

“Because he was real good at his work excellent, you might say and because he was always absolutely reliable.”

“Do you pay him well?”

“He’s the best-paid employee we’ve got.”

“Mr. Morgan, you told me you were willing to put up substantial bail for Larry Moody. Why are you willing to do that?”

“Because I believe in Larry. He’s a fine young man, and I’d trust him with my life.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. No further questions.”

Again the Judge looked at Elton Hunter, and he declined to question the witness.

“All right, Mr. Hunter,” the Judge said.

“Sum up for me.”

Elton Hunter rose.

“Your Honor, you’ve heard the testimony of the sheriff, an experienced law-enforcement officer who has explained his case. The prosecution wishes the accused bound over for the grand jury.” Hunter sat down.

“Mr. Lee?” the judge said.

Will stood.

“Your Honor, you have heard the sheriff say that his witness did not actually see my client’s face, and that his physical evidence has not been exclusively connected to Mr. Moody’s van. You’ve heard a reliable witness say that Mr. Moody was at home with her for the entire evening. You’ve also noted that, even though this was clearly a rape and murder, my client has not been charged with rape, which indicates to me a shaky case for the prosecution. Your Honor, I move that, in view of lack of substantive evidence, the charge against Larry Eugene Moody be dismissed.” This was form; Will had no expectation that the charge would be dismissed.

“Denied,” the Judge said.

“Do you have a request for bail?”

“Yes, Your Honor. I would ask you to consider that the evidence against my client so far presented here is, to put it politely, inconclusive. My client has corroboration of his whereabouts at the time of the crime; he has shown himself to be a stable person with roots in the community;

he is gainfully employed and has an excellent employment record, as you have heard. Although employed, he has no savings and has many financial obligations to meet, so it is important to him that he resume work immediately.

There is no reason whatever to fear that he might flee the jurisdiction. I request that bail be set in the amount of ten thousand dollars.”

The Judge looked at Elton Hunter and raised his eye brows.

Hunter half-stood.

“Your Honor, the prosecution opposes bail” “Oh, come on!” Will said, standing up.

“We’re willing to offer substantial bond, if necessary, but surely there is no reason to deny bail in this case.”

The Judge looked at Will.

“Sit, Mr. Lee,” he commanded

“You’ve had your say.”

Reluctantly, Will sat down.

“Your Honor,” Elton Hunter continued, “Mr. Moody is charged with a capital crime the brutal murder of an outstanding citizen that has shocked this community. He cannot be let loose on the streets.”

The Judge hardly paused.

“Bail is denied. The accused is bound over for the grand jury, which” he looked inquiringly at Hunter “is in session this week?”

“Correct, Your Honor,” Hunter replied.

“I intend to present the case on Thursday, when copies of the autopsy and lab reports are available.” “Good,” the Judge said.

“Mr. Lee, if the prosecution’s case is so shaky, I’m sure the grand jury will decline to indict, and your client will be free before the week is out.” The Judge stood.

“This hearing is concluded.”

“All rise!”

When the Judge had gone, Will sat down next to his client again.

“I’m sorry, Larry, but our chances were never good for bail—not in a case like this.”

“But you heard the Judge say that the grand jury might not indict me,” Moody said hopefully.

Will shook his head.

“I won’t be able to plead for you there. A prosecution can get just about anything he wants from a grand jury. I’m afraid you’re going to be in jail until your trial. We’ll see that you’re made as comfortable as possible. Charlene can bring you food, so you won’t have to eat the jailhouse stuff.”

Moody nodded sadly.

“Well, thanks for doing such a good job, anyway. You really gave that sheriff hell.”

Will grinned.

“Just wait until I get him on the stand at the trial.”

While Moody was allowed to kiss Charlene and speak to his boss again, Will glanced around and saw a number of people he had not noticed in the courtroom earlier. An elderly black couple, both light of complexion, stood talking to a very tall, very black man. Will recognized him as Martin Washington, head of a lawyers’ group called Attorneys for Racial Equality, or ARE, as it was known.

That meant publicity, maybe even demonstrations. Bad news.

Another man, white, whom he did not recognize, was talking with Elton Hunter at the back of the courtroom.

As Will watched, the two concluded their discussion, and the man walked toward him.

“Mr. Lee,” the man said, extending his hand, “I’m flick Donner, Southern Bureau of the New York Times.

Will shook the man’s hand. Oh, Christ, he was thinking, this is all I need.

Will leaned over the bed and looked into Benjamin Carr’s eyes. They shone brightly back at him. The Senator’s face was expressionless, and it occurred to Will that he had never before seen Carr’s face without expression. Even the poker face for which he was famous was different from this. His features had relaxed into a visage that was soft and childlike, and his mouth seemed to smile slightly.

WE The doctor had told Will that Carr might be able to understand him there was no way of knowing but that even if he could comprehend, he would be unable to respond by speaking, writing, or signaling. That was the meaning of “aphasic.”

Will pulled a chair up to the bed and took Carr’s limp hand.

“Senator,” he said, “it’s Will. I know you can’t talk, but I hope you can understand me. I just want you to know that you’ve had a stroke, but now you’re stable.

The doctor doesn’t know much more than that. He doesn’t know… when you’ll regain your speech.” He had almost said “whether.” Will paused and tried to think what else the Senator might want to know.