Home > The Last Juror(9)

The Last Juror(9)
Author: John Grisham

There was a commotion up behind the bench and a bailiff opened a door. "Everyone rise," he announced. Judge Loopus crept through it and shuffled to his seat, his faded black robe trailing behind him. Once situated, he surveyed the crowd, and said, "Good morning. A rather nice turnout for a bail hearing." Such routine matters generally attracted no one, except for the accused, his lawyer, and perhaps his mother. There were three hundred people watching this one.

It wasn't just a bail hearing. It was round one of a rape/murder trial, and few people in Clanton wanted to miss it. As I was keenly aware, most folks would not be able to attend the proceedings. They would rely on the Times, and I was determined to give them the details.

Every time I looked at Lucien Wilbanks, I thought about the lawsuit for a million dollars. Surely he wasn't going to sue my paper, was he? For what? There had been no libel, no defamation.

Judge Loopus nodded at another bailiff and a side door opened. Danny Padgitt was escorted in, his hands cuffed at his waist. He was wearing a neatly pressed white shirt, khaki pants, and loafers. His face was clean shaven and free of any apparent injuries. He was twenty-four, a year older than me, but he looked much younger. He was clean cut, handsome, and I couldn't help but think he ought to be in college somewhere. He managed a slow strut, then the sneer as the bailiff removed the handcuffs. He looked around at the crowd, and for a moment seemed to enjoy the attention. He showed all the confidence of someone whose family had unlimited cash, which it would use to get him out of his little jam.

Seated directly in back of him, behind the bar in the first row, were his parents and various other Padgitts. His father Gill, grandson of the infamous Clovis Padgitt, had a college degree and was rumored to be the chief money launderer in the gang. His mother was well dressed and somewhat attractive, which I found unusual for someone dimwitted enough to marry into the Padgitt clan and spend the rest of her life secluded on the island.

"I've never seen her before," Baggy whispered to me.

"How often have you seen Gill?" I asked.

"Maybe twice, in the last twenty years."

The State was represented by the county prosecutor, a part-timer named Rocky Childers. Judge Loopus addressed him: "Mr. Childers, I assume the State is opposed to bail."

Childers stood and said, "Yes sir."

"On what grounds?"

"The horrific nature of the crimes, Your Honor. A vicious rape, in the victim's own bed, in front of her small children. A simultaneous murder caused by at least two knife wounds. The attempted flight of the accused, Mr. Padgitt." Childers's words cut through the hushed courtroom. "The great likelihood that if Mr. Padgitt leaves jail we will never see him again."

Lucien Wilbanks couldn't wait to stand up and start bickering. He was on his feet immediately. "We object to that, Your Honor. My client has no criminal record whatsoever, never been arrested before."

Judge Loopus looked calmly over his reading glasses and said, "Mr. Wilbanks, I do hope that is the first and last time you interrupt anyone in this proceeding. I suggest you sit down, and when the Court is ready to hear from you, then you will be so advised." His words were icy, almost bitter, and I wondered how many times these two had tangled in this very courtroom.

Nothing bothered Lucien Wilbanks; his skin was as thick as rawhide.

Childers then gave us a bit of history. Eleven years earlier, in 1959, a certain Gerald Padgitt had been indicted for stealing cars over in Tupelo. It took a year to find a couple of deputies willing to enter Padgitt Island to serve a warrant, and though they survived, they were unsuccessful. Gerald Padgitt either fled the country or secluded himself somewhere on the island. "Wherever he is," Childers said, "he's never been arrested, never been found."

"You ever hear of Gerald Padgitt?" I whispered to Baggy.

"Nope."

"If this defendant is released on bail, Your Honor, we'll never see him again. It's that simple." Childers sat down.

"Mr. Wilbanks," His Honor said.

Lucien stood slowly and waved a hand at Childers. "As usual, the prosecutor is confused," he began pleasantly. "Gerald Padgitt is not charged with these crimes. I don't represent him and really don't give a damn what happened to him."

"Watch your language," Loopus said.

"He's not on trial here. This is about Danny Padgitt, a young man with no criminal record whatsoever."

"Does your client own real estate in this county?" Loopus asked.

"No, he does not. He's only twenty-four."

"Let's get to the bottom line, Mr. Wilbanks. I know his family owns considerable acreage. The only way I'll grant bail is if it's all pledged to secure his appearance for trial."

"That's outrageous," Lucien growled.

"So are his alleged crimes."

Lucien flung his legal pad onto the table. "Give me a minute to consult with the family."

This caused quite a stir among the Padgitts. They huddled behind the defense table with Wilbanks and there was disagreement from the very start. It was almost funny watching these very wealthy crooks shake their heads and get mad at each other. Family fights are quick and bitter, especially when money is at stake, and every Padgitt present seemed to have a different opinion about which course to take. One could only imagine what it was like when they were dividing their loot.

Lucien sensed that an agreement was unlikely, and to avoid embarrassment he turned and addressed the Court. "That's impossible, Your Honor," he announced. "The Padgitt land is owned by at least forty people, most of them absent from this courtroom. What the Court is requiring is arbitrary and overly burdensome."

"I'll give you a few days to put it together," Loopus said, obviously enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

"No sir. It's just not fair. My client is entitled to a reasonable bail, same as any other defendant."

"Then bail is denied until the preliminary hearing."

"We waive the preliminary."

"As you wish," Loopus said, taking notes.

"And we request that the case be presented to the grand jury as soon as possible."

"In due course, Mr. Wilbanks, same as all other cases."

"Because we will move for a change of venue as soon as possible." Lucien said this boldly, as if an important proclamation was needed.

"It's a bit early for that, don't you think?" Loopus said.

"It will be impossible for my client to get a fair trial in this county." Wilbanks was gazing around the courtroom as he continued, almost ignoring the Judge, who, for the moment, seemed curious.

"An effort is already under way to indict, try, and convict my client before he has the chance to defend himself, and I think the Court should intervene immediately with a gag order."

Lucien Wilbanks was the only one who needed gagging.

"Where are you going with this, Mr. Wilbanks?" Loopus asked.

"Have you seen the local paper, Your Honor?"

"Not lately."

All eyes seemed to settle upon me, and once again my heart stopped dead still.

Wilbanks glared at me as he continued. "Front page stories, bloody photographs, unnamed sources, enough half-truths and innuendos to convict any innocent man!"

Baggy was inching away again, and I was very much alone.

Lucien stomped across the courtroom and tossed a copy up to the bench. "Take a look at this," he growled. Loopus adjusted his reading glasses, pulled the Times up high, and sank back into his fine leather chair. He began reading, apparently in no particular hurry.

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