"I wasn't there."
"And Rhoda did what any mother would do - she yelled for them to run, didn't she, Mr. Padgitt?"
"I wasn't there."
"You weren't there!" Ernie bellowed, and the walls seemed to shake. "Your shirt was there, your footprints were there, you left your semen there! You think this jury is stupid, Mr. Padgitt?"
The witness kept shaking his head. Ernie walked slowly to his chair and pulled it from under the table. As he was about to sit, he said, "You're a rapist. You're a murderer. And you're a liar, aren't you, Mr. Padgitt?"
Lucien was up and yelling. "Objection, Your Honor. This is enough."
"Sustained. Any further questions, Mr. Gaddis?"
"No, Your Honor, the State is finished with this witness."
"Any redirect, Mr. Wilbanks?"
"No, Your Honor."
"The witness may step down." Danny slowly got to his feet. Long gone was the smirk, the swagger. His face was red with anger and wet with sweat.
As he was about to step out of the witness box and return to the defense table, he suddenly turned to the jury and said something that stunned the courtroom. His face wrinkled into pure hatred, and he jabbed his right index finger into the air. "You convict me," he said, "and I'll get every damned one of you."
"Bailiff!" Judge Loopus said as he grabbed for his gavel. "That's enough, Mr. Padgitt."
"Every damned one of you!" Danny repeated, louder. Ernie jumped to his feet, but could think of nothing to say. And why should he? The defendant was strangling himself. Lucien was on his feet, equally uncertain about what to do. Two deputies raced forward and shoved Padgitt toward the defense table. As he walked away he glared at the jurors as if he might just throw a grenade right then.
When things settled, I realized my heart was pounding with excitement. Even Baggy was too stunned to speak.
"Let's break for lunch," His Honor said, and we fled the courtroom. I was no longer hungry. I felt like racing to my apartment and taking a shower.
Chapter 18
The trial resumed at 3 P.M. All the jurors were present; the Padgitts hadn't knocked one off during lunch. Miss Callie gave me a grin, but her heart was not in it.
Judge Loopus explained to the jury that it was now time for the closing arguments, after which he would read to them his formal instructions, and they should have the case to decide in a couple of hours or so. They listened carefully, but I'm sure they were still reeling from the shock of being so flagrantly intimidated. The entire town was reeling. The jurors were a sampling of us, the rest of the community, and to threaten them was to do the same to everyone.
Ernie went first, and within minutes the bloody shirt was back in play. He was careful, though, not to overdo it. The jurors understood. They knew the evidence well.
The District Attorney was thorough but surprisingly brief. As he made his last appeal for a verdict of guilty, we watched the faces of the jurors. I saw no sympathy for the defendant. Fargarson, the crippled boy, was actually nodding as he followed along with Ernie. Mr. John Deere had uncrossed his arms and was listening to every word.
Lucien was even briefer, but then he had far less to work with. He began by addressing his client's final words to the jury. He apologized for his behavior. He blamed it on the pressure of the moment. Imagine, he asked the jurors, being twenty-four years old and facing either life in prison or, worse, the gas chamber. The stress on his young client - he always referred to him as "Danny" as if he was an innocent little boy - was so enormous that he was concerned about his mental stability.
Since he could not pursue the goofy conspiracy theory advanced by his client, and since he knew better than to dwell on the evidence, he spent half an hour or so praising the heroes who'd written our Constitution and the Bill of Rights. The way Lucien interpreted the presumption of innocence and the requirement that the State prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt made me wonder how any criminal ever got convicted.
The State had the chance for a rebuttal; the defense did not. So Ernie got the last word. He ignored the evidence and did not mention the defendant, but chose instead to talk about Rhoda. Her youth and beauty, her simple life out in Beech Hill, the death of her husband, and the challenge of raising two small children alone.
This was very effective, and the jurors were absorbing every word. "Let's not forget about her," was Ernie's refrain. A polished orator, he saved the best for last.
"And let's not forget about her children," he said as he looked into the eyes of the jurors. "They were there when she died. What they saw was so horrible that they will be forever scarred. They have a voice here in this courtroom, and their voice belongs to you."
Judge Loopus read his instructions to the jury, then sent them back to begin their deliberations. It was after 5 P.M., a time when the shops around the square were closed and the merchants and their customers were long gone. Traffic was normally light, parking was easy.
But not when a jury is out!
Much of the crowd lingered on the courthouse lawn, smoking, gossiping, predicting how long a verdict would take. Others crowded into the cafes for a late coffee or an early dinner. Ginger followed me to my office where we sat on the balcony and watched the activity around the courthouse. She was emotionally wasted and wanted to do nothing but get out of Ford County.
"How well do you know Hank Hooten?" she asked at one point.
"Never met him. Why?"
"He caught me during lunch, said he knew Rhoda well, said he knew for a fact that she was not sleeping around, especially not with Danny Padgitt. I told him I did not believe for an instant that she was seeing that scumbag."
"Did he say he dated her?" I asked.
"He wouldn't say, but I got the impression he did. When we were going through her things, a week or so after the funeral, I found his name and phone number in her address book."
"You've met Baggy," I said.
"Yes."
"Well, Baggy's been around forever, thinks he knows it all. He told me Monday when the trial started that Rhoda and Hank were seeing each other. He said Hank's been through a couple of wives, likes to be known as a ladies' man."
"So he's not married?"
"I don't think so. I'll ask Baggy."
"I guess I should feel better knowing my sister was sleeping with a lawyer."
"Why would that make you feel better?"
"I don't know."
She'd kicked off her heels and her short skirt was even higher up her thighs. I began to rub them, and my thoughts drifted away from the trial.
But only for a moment. There was a commotion around the front door of the courthouse, and I heard someone yell something about a "verdict."
* * *
After deliberating for less than one hour, the jury was ready. When the lawyers and spectators were in place, Judge Loopus told a bailiff, "Bring 'em in."
"Guilty as hell," Baggy whispered to me as the door opened and Fargarson came limping out first. "Quick verdicts are always guilty."
For the record, Baggy had predicted a hung jury, but I didn't remind him of that, not then anyway.
The foreman handed a folded sheet of paper to the bailiff, who then gave it to the Judge. Loopus examined it for a long time, then leaned down close to his microphone. "Would the defendant please rise," he said. Both Padgitt and Lucien stood, slowly and awkwardly, as if the firing squad was taking aim.