Missing Witness (30 page)

“That's exactly why I'm calling. I'm trying to find out whether you have any record of a piracy trial involving a defendant by the name of Isaac Joppa—J-O-P-P-A.”

“Well, that's fine, Mr. Chambers,” the man countered, “but that's not entirely critical information at this point. You have to understand a little about how the system works. Not all trials have been captured.”

“What do you mean? How far do you go back?”

“Well, let me explain. The first thing that was done is that the original transcripts were microfilmed. As you know, microfilm is a very slow and cumbersome process. Furthermore, viewing is limited to on-site evaluation. You have to be physically seated in front of the microfilm…for instance, here at the university…and scan it.”

“And that's why I have a problem,” Will explained. “I have a trial coming up very shortly. I don't have the time to fly to England and go page by page through transcripts.”

“Well, Mr. Chambers, that's where you're in very good luck,” the man said cheerfully.

“Oh? How so?”

“Because, understanding the limitation of microfilm, we decided to transfer the proceedings to a digitized process. That was done in cooperation with the University of Herefordshire—”

“Yes, and that's very interesting,” Will said impatiently, “but let's get back to the part where you said I'm in luck…”

“Well, that's exactly what I'm explaining to you. The files were created specifically for the purpose of transmitting the trial transcripts over the Internet. That means if someone—well, where are you right now?”

“Down in the Cape Hatteras area of North Carolina. Along the seacoast of the United States.”

“All right, there you are. If you have a computer handy…and I'm sure even there along the seacoast they have computer terminals. You may even have a laptop with you. You could access the Web site we've created. But what you have to understand is the limitations—”

“What kinds of limitations?”

“Well, there are chronological limitations,” the Englishman replied. “We've been able to reconstruct more than twenty-two thousand trial proceedings from the Old Bailey. But that's just a small portion of them. There are large blocks of time…certain years we simply have not had the time to get to yet.”

“Well, I'm dealing with a trial that would have taken place—if it took place at all—probably some time during the year 1719.”

“Then you're most fortunate, Mr. Chambers. Because the trial proceedings from December 1714 through December 1759 have already been recovered and posted. But there are some other limitations—”

“You mean to say I can go to the Web site right now and access a trial from 1719—if it was tried in the Old Bailey in London?”

“Most certainly.” But then he added with a note of caution in his voice, “What I was explaining to you is that there are other limitations—”

“Others?”

“Yes. Some of the transcripts—in terms of their original integrity—were not capable of being recovered. There was a certain amount of bleed-through. You have to recall that in the eighteenth-century they printed the proceedings on those old printing presses, with heavy ink…It would bleed through sometimes from one side of the page to the other, and the text would be either partially or totally obscured.”

Will ended the call elated at the possibility that he might be able to locate a trial at the Old Bailey with Isaac Joppa as defendant. It was a long shot—but he knew he had to check immediately.

But when he plugged in his laptop and tried to access the Internet, he was unable to log on.

For an hour he tried in vain.

Then he felt Fiona's hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you,” Fiona said, purse in one hand and car keys in the other, “but we've got to leave now for my exam. You promised you'd come with me.”

“Absolutely. I'm going to be there. Just give me one second…” Will now heard the connection being made. “Honey, I think I'm getting connected. This may be the biggest break of all in this case.”

“Okay. I am going out to the car. I am going to start the car. And then I am going to honk the horn. And I expect you to be with me in the car within ten seconds after I honk—or else we're going to be late. Please,
Will—when I honk, you come on out, and let's take off. This is important.”

Will frantically typed in the Web site address. He waited.

The retrieval indicator at the bottom of his screen was slowly inching from ten, to twenty, to forty percent. In a moment, Will scrolled down the introductory page, speeding through the instructions as fast as he could.

Then he clicked onto the search and typed in the year 1719.

Outside a car honked.

Will then typed in the name Isaac Joppa.

Again the car honked—this time twice.

The retrieval indicator slowly edged from one, to five, to ten percent.

Will threw up his hands and got up. He walked backward, looking at the blank screen, until he got to the door.

Then he darted through it and sprinted to the car.

Fiona was in the passenger seat, wearing an expression of almost exhausted patience.

Will said, as he pulled away in the car, “All right. Let's focus on your pregnancy. Let's focus on the baby…okay? I wonder what Dr. Joppa will say.”

Fiona was half-smiling. “Yes. It's good to see you have your mind off the case…”

As Will made his way down the ocean road and onto the main highway, back at the cottage, the screen of his laptop finally lit up.

The rough characters of old type, printed nearly three hundred years before, appeared on the screen. They read,

THE PROCEEDINGS ON THE KING'S COMMISSION OF THE PEACE

AND

Oyer and Terminer, and Gaol-Delivery of Newgate held for the CITY of London, and COUNTY of Middlesex, at Justice Hall in the Old Bayly

ON

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, being the 10
^th
, 11
^th
and 12
^th
of this Instant, May, 1719, in the fifth year of His Majesty's reign.

And below that, after a listing of the names of the jurors:

Isaac Joppa, late of Bath, North Carolina, of the English colonies in the Americas, mariner; stands indicted, for that he, not having God
before his eyes, but being moved and seduced by the Instigation of the Devil, on the fifth day of December in the third year of His Majesty's reign, the said Isaac Joppa, in a certain ship called Queen Anne's Revenge, of which the captain was one Edward Teach, a pirate by common knowledge, and within the jurisdiction of the admiralty of England, in parts beyond the seas, did engage in acts of piracy and robbery committed against a sloop, Marguerite, for which offense, if found guilty, he shall be hanged by the neck until dead. On this indictment said prisoner has been arraigned, and on his arraignment has pleaded not guilty; and for trial, and has placed himself upon God and his country, whose country, as jurors, you are. Your charge is to inquire of him if he be guilty, or be not guilty…

44

T
HE PARKING LOT OF
M
ELVIN
'
S
C
AFÉ
was empty except for Melvin Hooper's own vehicle. He had positioned himself in front of the door, still wearing his cook's hat, T-shirt, and white apron.

His arms were crossed over his chest. A few minutes later, a sheriff's deputy's vehicle pulled into the parking lot and two deputies exited.

There followed a Department of Transportation car and a truck from the Municipal Department of Public Works.

The driver of the public works truck pulled into the driveway and quickly scrambled around to the back of his pickup, where he retrieved several sawhorses and arranged them across the entrance to the driveway.

One of the deputies approached Hooper with a piece of paper in his hand.

“Come on, Melvin, don't make this any harder than it has to be.”

“I'm not the one making this hard,” he snapped back.

“Look…I've got a piece of paper that says we're shutting you down today. It's noon. That's what the court order says. Now a court of law says we've got to demolish this place and run a new highway through here. This same piece of paper also says you are going to receive a fair price from the county for the value of your property—”

“Fair price?” Melvin yelled, nearly in tears. “You want to know how long it took me to build up my restaurant so that tourists and locals knew where to come for the best food on Cape Hatteras? It's not just brick and wood and kitchen equipment—it's my life here you're talking about…my blood and my sweat that went into this place!”

“And I understand that,” the deputy said. “But there's nothing I can do about this. I've got a court order. I've got a job to do. And you've got to obey this order. Now move out of the way…so we can board up this building. They've got to start breaking up the asphalt. They've got a job to do too.”

“And what if I were to tell you that you're going to get to this restaurant and board it up only over my dead body—”

By now the two deputies were standing shoulder to shoulder. One had a hand on his pistol.

“Melvin…the last thing in the world I want to do is have to use force. But we've got a job to do, and we're going to do it. If we need to use force, we're going to use it. Now, for the last time, remove yourself from the front of this door!”

That was when Jonathan Joppa pulled up. He had planned on getting lunch from Melvin's on this, the last day of the restaurant's operation, not aware that Melvin had to shut down by noon. He swung his vehicle into the shopping center next door and sprinted over to the parking lot of the café.

“Melvin, what's going on?”

“Reverend Joppa, you stay out of this.” the deputy said. “You stay away.”

“They're taking my restaurant away!” Melvin's voice was now choked with sobs. “This is just the last straw for me…the last straw.”

“That's where you're wrong!” Jonathan said as he walked slowly and carefully around the deputies and closer to Melvin.

“Reverend Joppa!” shouted the deputy with his hand still on his pistol. “I'm warning you—move back!”

“Easy, Deputy. Melvin and I are old friends. And I'm going to walk him away from this front door—and over to his car. He's going to get into his car, and he's going to drive away.”

“Jonathan, you've got to stay out of this,” Melvin said. “You have no idea…I know you mean well…but this is it. I've really been pushed too far. This is the last straw.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Jonathan said in a firm voice. “This is nowhere near the last straw—”

“How would you know?” Melvin yelled, his voice filled with rage and grief.

“Because I know…I know what it's like to lose something,” Jonathan said, taking a few steps closer to Melvin. “To feel like there's nowhere to turn. And the things that mean the most to you are slipping right through your fingers. I know what it feels like—but I'm here to tell you it's not the last straw. Not by a long stretch. Now, why don't you come along…let me walk you over to your car. Let's go pick up your wife, and then head over to my place. You can fix dinner…one of your great meals…for the three of us. And then we'll talk about your future. Where you can go from here.”

Melvin's large, broad face showed the signs of a great internal struggle.

“Do you have your car keys in your pocket?” Jonathan asked calmly.

Melvin nodded silently.

Jonathan took a few more steps. He was now within arm's reach of the older man. He put his hand on his shoulder and slowly guided him down the steps, past the deputies, and over to his car.

He told Melvin to follow him. They would drive to Melvin's house to pick up his wife.

The deputy with his hand on his pistol finally relaxed his grip.

“Look…I appreciate the help, Reverend. You have no idea how this started. First thing this morning Melvin called in a threat to the public works department. We didn't know what to expect…”

“Sure, I understand,” Jonathan replied with a smile. “You fellows did a fine job. I don't think you're going to have any more trouble from Melvin. I'll stay with him tonight.”

Melvin slowly moved his car out of the parking lot and pulled behind Jonathan's.

Jonathan walked around to Melvin, now behind the wheel.

“Hey, Melvin—in all of the excitement I forgot which road you live on. You're over on Sandy Point Lane, aren't you?”

Melvin nodded.

As Jonathan turned away from his car, he reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Look…I appreciate all you've done…and for being a friend in need…”