Five Miles to Paradise

31

Life in LayfayettahCounty crept on at its usual slow-to-middling pace. The upcoming trial was the talk of the town.

Clancy Threckenstall's two nephews were arrested.

Wicker Leland, prosecutor, and defense attorney, Olley Stokes, were set to try the case. 

George Hankins had come forward claiming the Key and Lakin Crandell had boasted about their joyride in a fancy Cadillac convertible. A pocketknife with markings that looked like 'LC' had been found under the seat of the passenger's seat.

"It's not a mountain of evidence, Heck," Leland said. "And if it were up to me to prosecute, I'd pass on this one. I honestly don't think there's enough here.

You and I know that Clancy will have thirty witnesses stating the boys were with them hunting or fishing or something. And a dozen more stating that knife is not Lakin's. 

Hell, suddenly we'll have six or eight pocketknives 'miraculously' appear with the initials LC, and the absolute only pocketknife Lakin's carried around since he was in diapers will be in that bunch. 

Besides, the marks on the knife are questionable. I think my five year old could do better. It could be LC or 11 or who knows?

Olley's bound to admit the car was stolen. He can't get around that fact. But he's going to say it was found undamaged. And nobody saw either of the boys behind the wheel. No harm done. That's surely the track I'd take if I was defending those two."

"That's ridiculous," said Heck. "A woman almost died!"

"You're right," said Leland. "But a woman of color. And for most of the population, the white population, at least, that doesn't amount to a hill of beans. So, the assault angle's out. You said it yourself, Heck, the negress never saw who hit her."

Leland looked out his office window.

"You know Clancy's clout in this county, Heck."

"You're afraid," said Heck.

"I'm a sane man," said Leland. "I'll admit this thing has got my ulcers turning somersaults. Every peckerwood within a hundred miles will be there, rooting for the boys. It's gonna be a circus. A goddam circus. 

And don't get your hopes up now that Miss Nell's appearance will change anything. Granted, I might get a few sympathy votes from the women in the audience who see her, but that cripple angle won't wash with the twelve men on the jury. Clancy's presence will be enough to intimidate them."

"What about Able Powell?" Heck asked. "Able says he picked the boys up and gave them a lift that night. They drove by the Cadillac. But Able didn't see the maid lying on the side of the road."

"Exactly. Able did not see the supposed victim. Able Powell runs moonshine. He always been too sorry to hold a real job. And shine is what's kept food in his kids' bellies for years. 

Everyone within six counties knows that. He's lacking in the credibility department. 

Olley would only have to say that the maid made up the story about being dragged from the car. He could claim she was lying. Suggest she was beaten by a jealous lover. Just a sliver doubt is all it takes.

 Why I wouldn't give you a snowflake's chance in hell of convicting either one of those boys if I could put them behind the wheel of that Cadillac with Saint Peter's testimony, Heck! Not in this county."

"But, you're going ahead with this," Heck said.

"I have to. Apparently that maid's friend has friends in very high places. This wagon's already left the barn on this one. But I don't like it," said Leland. "Not one bit.

***

"I can honestly say that I have never been more nervous in my whole life.

Morning came. The sun rose bright and fierce in the sky. I could not decide which of my three Sunday dresses to wear. In the end, I chose the black one. It seemed appropriate. Somber. Not showy.

The small black hat I wore did little to instill me with any sense of confidence. I really liked that hat, and usually, whenever I wore it, I was filled with pride. I always thought it looked very good on me.

But, not today.

Nothing could quell the butterflies that fluttered inside my stomach.

I arrived at the courthouse an hour early. Already, a large crowd milled outside. I could only imagine what it looked like inside.

I headed around the side of the courthouse, to the entrance marked 'For Coloreds Only.' My mouth felt like cotton, but I did not linger to take a sip from the 'Blacks Only' water fountain. There were too many people standing around even this side of the building.

Had they arrested the FBI's most wanted gangster and put him on trial here in little Lafayettah County, I would not have imagined there could be more bystanders in the town square or outside the courthouse. A murderer. A villain of the first degree could not have demanded any more attention than seemed to be focused here today.

Lafayettah County Courthouse is a simple affair, when judged by more prosperous county courthouses. It is a plain brick, two-story affair, a box with a few windows and four wooden columns painted white, atop of which rested a small triangular porch. There were no elaborate decorations on the buildings exterior, not even the words 'Lafayettah County Courthouse,' but it did not matter. Everyone knew what the building was. It was the courthouse, as solid and as unpretentious as the county folks, themselves.

The interior walls of the main courtroom were painted a medium gray-blue. Two plain wooden tables for the defense and prosecution were positioned before the judge's seat, a small boxed in affair painted black. The judge's chair was elevated a few feet above the main floor. A balcony was attached to the back wall for colored people, and underneath the balcony, a few benches for the white public and any white witnesses who were to be called to take the stand. A wooden banister with a gate separated the public seating from the lawyers' tables. A wooden chair sat on the floor, left of the presiding judge, for anyone called to testify. Twelve wooden chairs sat to the judge's right.

An overhead tin ceiling provided the room's only decoration. There were no pictures, paintings, or clocks on the walls. They were as bare as a baby's behind. The windows were several feet high, screened and operational, to be opened on the hottest of days or closed when rain or coolness necessitated. Heavy blinds could be pulled down if the sun attempted to blind the proceedings with its intense rays.

The room smelled of sweat and fear, furniture polish and floor wax. It was ninety degrees in the room, and the humidity was in overdrive. I took my seat in the back of the room, in the special section marked 'Blacks Only.'

***

She came in her wheelchair, but at the front door, Miss Nell stood up, and the man who was with her handed her the crutches. She wore a light green dress, the silver of the braces showing below the hem. The braces looked heavier than the ones she wore when I had worked for her. 

Had she been doing her exercises properly? 

For a minute, I felt a pang of tremendous guilt. 

Had the polio come back on her?

An audible gasp filled the packed room. Leland glanced at the twelve men sitting on the jury. For the first time, he saw their stoic faces of the jury drop their masks of sober superiority.

What if this was your daughter? Leland thought.

How proud she looked. How proud of her I was at that moment.

Miss Nell testified that the car was hers, that she had fallen ill, that I had been ordered to drive the vehicle home that afternoon. That she woke up in a hospital bed.

And then, it happened.

Olley Stokes called me to the stand.